“Where’s Kasra Jazani?” Range demanded, looking to Pike, who shouted at someone in the tunnel. “Where is she, Osuli? Where’s Kasra?”
Hands over his head, the man didn’t move. Didn’t answer.
“He won’t give her up,” Pike muttered as he dragged two girls from the tunnel.
“Squirters! Headed east!” Brick shouted as he gave chase, followed by Tariq.
Turning to eyeball the action, Range spotted the squirters emerging from tunnels at the gate door. Dark hair. “Jazani,” he whispered.
“Go,” Pike barked, apparently having seen the same thing. “Don’t let her escape.”
“Landry, on me!” Weapon in hand, Range sprinted back into the compound. Wove left, down the alley. Past one building. This was getting crazy tight with time, but he wasn’t leaving or letting her escape.
C’mon, c’mon.Where was she?Let me do justice …
Ahead, a shape vanished back into the building where they’d started this game. He sprinted after her.
Dark hair, hijab sliding free as she leapt for the door.
“Stop!” He fired, hoping to tag her leg. It splintered the door. He moved after her, heartrate jacked. Saw shadows shifting at the far end of the hall. “Target contact. Sector Blue Two. Moving to second level.” As he reached the door, he slowed. Felt the breath of Death skate down his neck. Braced, then did a quick look—
Crack!
Splinters spat at his face.
Range jerked back with a curse. Knew Death had a thing for him. “Contact, last door.”
From another juncture came Landry, who negotiated the stairs with him. Nodded.
Holding up three fingers, Range started the countdown: three … two …
Tink-tink. Tink. Thunk.
“Grenade!” Range pitched himself away from the explosive. He’d no sooner dived for cover than the blast punched his spine. Felt fiery heat scrape the back of his legs and neck. The concussion rang his bell and sucked out his hearing. He shook his head. Shrugged it off. Knew she’d come on its heels. As he whipped over, he felt the air stir.
Jazani.
He snapped out a hand. Met bone, the impact vibrating down his forearm, and flipped her.
She thudded onto the floor. Not willing to lose this target, he grabbed through the haze at the dark blur. Found a leg. Clamped onto it.
A grunt issued from the woman.
He saw her heel a second too late. It connected with his jaw. Whipped his head backward. But he had the wherewithal to know if he lost his grip, he’d lose her. She knew this compound and no doubt they had hidey holes. And fighters.
With a growl, he hoisted himself toward her at the same time he yanked her leg to himself. They collided in the chaos. Her limbs flailed as he anchored her with his own body, positioning himself to lock her legs in his own and coldcock her as he had two months ago when he’d come looking for Aqbari.
She did her best to scissor her legs to free herself.
But he’d been prepared after their last CQC.
Her fist found his nose.
Pain wracking his skull, he tasted the blood, but didn’t care.
A burst of shots erupted nearby.
“Keep still or the next one will be in your head,” Landry shouted in Pashto.
