Chapter 10

 

Years of training took over. With Blake down, she was the leader. In the four steps it took to reach Ella Wainwright, Ryleigh barked out orders. “Nigel, find the shooter. Less than ten feet inside the woods on the south side.”

“My men are already on it.” Nigel sounded like he was running.

“Garrett, you’ve got Duke.” He was the bigger of the two men and could protect their client with his own body if necessary. “Troy, Blake is hurt.” The young, thin man sprinted past her. She remembered seeing in his file that he’d been a SEAL medic.

Blake was in better hands than hers.

Another bullet swooshed by, followed by a third before Ryleigh dove, covering Ella’s body with her own. She’d already drawn her weapon. Although it was useless against a high-powered sniper rifle, it would be perfect if someone else attacked them, close in. She had no idea how many were after the Wainwrights.

Ryleigh held Ella’s head down in the wet sand and covered her as much as she could with her own body. When Ella tried to look up, Ryleigh warned her to stay down. Several more bullets dug into the sand around them, thankfully missing their target. But who had been the intended victim, Ella or Duke?

Ryleigh looked to the side to see Garrett covering Duke. A quick glance down the beach showed Nigel running full out toward the origin of the shots.

Through Ryleigh’s earpiece, she could hear island security closing in on the shooter.

Voice one, as she’d decided to call the man, announced, “I see him. He’s on the run. In pursuit.”

“I found his shooting position,” voice two said. “I’ve got shells on the ground, still hot. Instructions?”

Nigel replied, “Hold your position, Jeff, and maintain the scene. We’ll need to collect evidence. Glen, I’m moving up along the outer edge of the woods. For Christ sake, don’t shoot me.”

Glen noted, “The little bugger is fast. Agile, too. He all but flew over a downed tree.”

“I don’t care if he’s fucking Peter Pan, don’t lose him,” Nigel warned.

The sound of three shots echoed from the woods. Ryleigh could tell these were from a small caliber weapon, probably a pistol.

Ella screamed and shook underneath Ryleigh. When Garrett told Duke what was happening, she chastised herself for not calming Ella. “Island security is chasing the shooter through the woods. They know this area so much better than we do. They’ll get him.” At least she hoped so.

Glen hissed. “Fuck! I’m hit.”

Nigel sounded stressed. “How bad?”

Ryleigh held her breath. A few seconds later, the man from island security spoke through clenched teeth. “Shot in the leg. I think he may have nicked a bone. Get that little fucker.”

“I can see him,” Nigel said, on the run. “But I can’t get a clear shot. He’s using the trees as cover.”

Glen was obviously talking through a different communication system, but everyone heard him say, “Blue four to base, I’m hit. I’ve activated my rescue unit. I don’t think I can walk.”

“We need that ambulance down here at the beach,” Troy told anyone who was listening. “Blake is bleeding pretty bad.”

Ryleigh’s heart sank. In such a modern place, far removed from so many Third World countries she and Blake had been in, he could still bleed out. He could die before she ever had a chance to tell him how she felt.

She looked down the beach where Troy had taken off Blake’s jacket and laid him on top of it. A red clump, the size of a basketball, lay on the sand next to Blake’s body. That was once the starched white shirt she’d run her palms over before adjusting his tie.

He couldn’t die. She wanted to jump up and run down there and let him know that she loved him. He needed to hang on…for them. She would quit Guardian Security if it came to that, just to be with him.

But she had to stay where she was for the moment. She couldn’t leave Ella until Nigel’s men had captured the shooter.

When she looked down at Ella’s makeup-smeared face, she saw tears dripping into the sand. “I’ll let you up just as soon as I get the all clear.”

The familiar sound of a .45 caliber round exiting the barrel of the pistol filled the air, with a second right behind it.

“Little bastard is down,” Nigel said with pride. “Now, who the fuck are you?”

“Is he dead?” Ryleigh couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know if the threat was over.

“No,” Nigel sighed. “I took out his knees. We need him alive for interrogation, in case he has a partner.”

“Careful,” Garrett warned. “He could be hiding a gun. Approach with extreme caution.”

“Always,” Nigel replied.

All systems were quiet, waiting to hear Nigel’s revelation.

“He’s wearing a goddamn camouflage balaclava,” Nigel declared. “Looks like he’s out.”

It was so quiet they could hear the rustling of leaves.

“Well, ho-ly fuck.”