I took off with Napoleon at my side. We wore full tactical gear, carrying heavy weapons. I felt insulated and safe in my gear. It was similar enough to the protection I’d worn in the Middle East when we conducted operations. Only armor piercing bullets could get through our Kevlar, although a stray bullet to an area not covered by it, could prove deadly. My safety and that of everyone else on my team, was utterly dependent upon us working in sync and watching each other’s backs while we carried out field assignments. Nothing could protect one ofus from a high-powered rifle bullet, but there were no snipers where we were going and we were all aware that our training was our most powerful weapon at all times.
We jogged down the sidewalk and took up breach positions when we got to the house. As we fanned out, Napoleon and I crossed the grass on the left-hand side of the one-story ranch house. We walked silently to the gate where I reached up, slowly raising the latch. I winced at the rusty scrape it made as my brothers approached the front of the house. Making quick work of slipping into the backyard with Napoleon close at my heels, we met Milky and Twizz in the back after they’d taken a similar route down the right side.
The plan called for Twizz, Milky, Snickers, and me to cover the back while Candy and the rest of the team breached the front door and took down whoever was inside. We’d use smoke grenades and flash bangs to disorient the occupants when we took the house, since it was the most efficient way of safely making entry. It would flush anyone in the back part of the house toward us. We’d be ready.
“Breach in ten…nine…eight…” The sound of Candy quietly counting down in our coms sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through me while focusing me at the same time. I’d first recognized the Viking’s cool, calm demeanor when we’d readied ourselves to go out on missions during my deployment in Afghanistan. Ever since joining the team, my trust of his leadership had only grown with every Op. I trusted the men at my side. They’d seen me through the aftermath of my capture and eventually the path I’d taken to sobriety after coming home.
To a man, they’d stood by my side, lifting me up when my demons took over, threatening to drag me down and drown me. Jay…sus, there’d been nights when I would have taken my own life. But they’d seen the signs, sometimes lecturing, sometimescommiserating, crying with me, but always being brothers if it had just meant staying up and talking into the wee hours of the morning.
“Four…three…two…Go! Go! Go!”
A great crash sounded from inside the house and I tensed as flashbangs went off followed by alarmed shouting, then automatic gunfire. Somewhere in the bowels of the house, a scream pierced my head, then the pounding of feet as they rushed toward the back door where we waited. Seconds later, it wrenched inward and a handgun appeared followed by the diminutive figure of Helena Havrel as she crashed through the doorway. Twizz grabbed the gun, using her momentum to pull her down the three cement steps into the yard as he disarmed her. She crashed to the ground, rolling head over heels before landing on the grass. She was up within seconds and I looked away just as Milky tackled her.
She let out a startled oomph as Snickers and I charged into the room, guns at the ready, tactical shields held high. Thankfully, they took the frontal assault of the automatic gunfire coming from the man who rushed into the room. Bullets zinging off metal was loud. I dropped to a knee, leaned around the shield, and squeezed off several rounds, taking the attacker I now recognized as John Tomasi to the ground.
Before Tomasi even hit the carpet, Harrison Davis charged into the room. Shockingly unconcerned about his own welfare, he rushed in shirtless, wearing only low-slung denim shorts, carrying an automatic rifle. His face was a mask of rage. I watched with rapt attention as the suspect flung both arms wide and let out a banshee wail as he suddenly pointed the gun right at my best mate. Though Snickers shield probably would have protected him, I squeezed the trigger and put three in the center of the suspect’s bare chest.
Blood sprayed from Davis’ open mouth as he turned his head to look at me in shock. He instantly dropped to his knees, hovering only a moment…before his eyes rolled back in his head. As if in slow motion, he crumpled and collapsed face-first to the carpet. He didn’t stir after that.
When Candy and the others burst into the room after him, I righted myself and stood, glancing at Snickers, checking him over as I squeezed his arm. “Ya all good, brother?”
He nodded. “Thanks to you, Patsy.”
I heard the relief in those words but turned my attention to Candy who’d lowered his weapon and was assessing the scene. He raised his face shield at the same time I did. “You took him down, Patsy?”
I nodded as I walked over. “Without prejudice, Captain. The moment he swung his weapon toward Smith, I fired.”
Candy looked back at the bleeding bodies on the floor before turning his attention back to me. “And Tomasi?”
“Also me, sir.”
He gave a sharp nod, opening his mouth to say something, but thought better of it when SAC Bradley strode into the room. He looked odd and out of place wearing a suit with a tactical vest over his bulk.
“Fucking hell. What happened here?”
“My men did their job, sir,” Candy said. “It’ll all come out in the briefing.”
Bradley seemed to examine him for any trace of a lie and satisfied there was none to be found, he nodded, reaching out a hand. The two men shook and Bradley visibly adjusted his suit as he stood a little straighter. “Time to face the reporters.”
Only then did I notice the sound of choppers hovering almost immediately over the house. I had no doubt some news station had been alerted to the raid and took to the air to capture what they could for the five o’clock news. It was times like these that I was happiest knowing it was hard to make out who we were with face shields in matching tactical armor.
Candy turned back to Snickers and me after SAC Bradley made his exit. “I’ll need you to meet with the bureau psychologist once you finish your statement back at the office, Patsy. You were the shooter, soyouget the sit down. You know the drill.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that of course I knew I’d have to be cleared when my mind flashed back to Afghanistan, recalling a similar operation where post-incident counseling wasn’t the norm.
That day, we’d been clearing structures and searching for insurgents when O’Malley and I had been confronted by a female covered head to toe in a black burka, holding an AK-47. Though I’d couldn’t decipher much of her expression, the brief flash of searing hate in the eyes, and the body language accompanying it, had been the same sort of rage Davis had been wearing moments ago. That kind of thing wasn’t hard to recognize. That day it’d been Tommy who’d had the clarity of mind to put a bullet in her head before I’d thought to blink.
Mars walking into the room carrying several evidence bags, snapped me back to the present. He glanced at the bleeding bodies before looking at Napoleon and me, giving us both a lopsided grin as he walked over. “Bloody mess.” I chuckled as he held open one of the evidence bags. “Weapon, Patsy.”
I nodded, obediently dropping it in the bag and watching him seal it up. The gun and remaining ammunition would be matched to the slugs they dug out of Davis and Tomasi’s bodies.
“Thanks, Pats. I’ll collect your clothes and boots inside the BearCat,” Mars said. With that, he slid me a grin and walked over to Napoleon, repeating the process with him.
I took one last look at the bleeding bodies and grabbed Napoleon’s arm. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get naked.”
Smith let out a snort of laughter and followed me out into the backyard where Candy was standing next to Nash and Mickey. The handcuffed suspect, Helena Havrel, was being led away by two uniformed LAPD officers as she cursed and sobbed. I dropped my face shield and looked up at the hovering helo.
“Feckin’ vultures,” I muttered under my breath.
