Minutes ago, Hardy was inches away from a beautiful woman, who smelled wonderful. Now the cold and black eyes of a corpse that reeked of stale cigarettes and coffee looked back at him. He slowly moved a hand and closed the eyelids. Always creeps me out.
Lifting his head to see over the dead body, he got Cruz’s attention. “I hope,” he whispered, “this is the first…and last time…another man comes between us.”
Her mouth agape, she scrunched her eyebrows. “How can you joke at a time like this?”
He grinned. “I’ve learned humor helps in these situations…helps me focus. So much has happened in the last—” he held a finger to his lips before pointing toward the outside of the vehicle. Footfalls moved alongside the SUV and faded away. Someone boarded the boat and got off a few moments later. The footfalls grew louder and stopped near the Land Rover.
… … … … …
Pence had almost made it to the boathouse when a short burst of gunfire erupted behind him. Five-five-six rounds were loud, but were deafening against the backdrop of a silent night. Within seconds, the boathouse emptied. The other men came running from their posts. Standing in wide-open terrain and trapped in an unplanned pincer maneuver, Pence dropped to the ground and army-crawled to the dock, his only cover.
… … … … …
Sensing a presence and hearing short breaths, Hardy clenched the Bushmaster’s handguard. That can’t be Pence. He just left. The blankets ruffled before they were ripped away, exposing the stowaways.
“What the…”
Lifting the rifle, Hardy recognized the voice. Antonio. Hardy and Cruz let out a short string of fire at the same time. If there were an Olympic event for synchronized shooting, they would have taken home gold.
The agents zipped the man with four rounds, starting at the abdomen and finishing between the collarbones before putting two in the nose. The standing dead man jigged and keeled forward. Bringing knees to chest, Hardy caught and drove the body toward the wooden dock. “You go right, Cruz. I got left.” The two scrambled out of the back and knelt at the corner bumper on their respective sides.
Cruz had four men in her field of view. She centered one in the XM15’s rear peep sight, but quickly moved her finger away from the trigger. The man dove to the ground and army-crawled to the edge of the dock. Thank you, Lord. Swinging the rifle left, she opened up on the armed men near the boathouse.
Hardy counted four targets advancing on his position. Not having suppressors on their rifle’s muzzles, the bright flashes of light gave him a point of reference. After emptying a magazine and spending fifteen rounds of a second, he noticed fewer flashes. “I think I got two, Cruz. What about you?”
Cruz slammed her last PMAG into the Bushmaster and ran the bolt forward. Boy, these things go fast. “One down,” she sent a few rounds toward the enemy, “two still standing.” She put her back to the SUV. “On my last mag.”
Hardy pivoted and joined her. “Here,” he plopped his final full magazine onto her lap, “I still have my pistol.” Bullets tore up both sides of the Land Rover, shattering windows and detaching chunks of sheet metal. They dropped to their butts and ducked. Glass shards pelted their backsides.
“I don’t how much longer we can hold out.” Cruz got to her feet and spun away from her partner. “This noise is going to bring the rest of them.”
Hardy peeled away from her and returned fire. When the bolt locked open on the 5.56, he drew his handgun. And we’re low on ammo. He placed careful shots, knowing he only had whatever cartridges the weapon held.
… … … … …
Pence eyed the locked slide and tossed the pistol. He ran through the water, under the dock. When the water was waist high, he dove underneath and emerged at the edge of the Queen Mary a minute later.
Grabbing the side, he pulled, only to drop back into the water a second later. Spasms pulsed through his forearm. Momentary light flashes from the gun battle showed streaks of red in the water. Are you kidding me?
He reached for the boat again, but his hand could not grasp anything. Water splashed his face, as bullets broke the surface. It’s going to take a lot more— he channeled his strength to the uninjured arm, performed a one-handed chin-up and rolled over the side of the QM, gasping for air, than a bullet to stop me.
Lying on his back, Pence saw stars in the gaps among the clouds. His chest rose and fell a few more times, while he caught his breath. “I’m getting,” he muttered, “too old for this sh—” A bullet skipped across the vessel, jarring him back to his senses, and he rolled onto his belly.
… … … … …
Cruz finished her last magazine and inserted the one Hardy had given her. Hearing a noise behind her, she pressed the bolt release, whipped around and leveled the muzzle at an approaching figure.
“Don’t shoot. It’s me.” Crouching and running toward her, Pence held up his good arm, while the other hung at his side. After stopping at Antonio’s body and fetching the dead man’s Makarov pistol, Pence took a knee between Hardy and Cruz.
Hardy thumbed his weapon, and a magazine fell into his palm. One in the tube makes six. He smiled at the newcomer. “I thought you’d finally come to your senses and joined the other team.”
Cruz tipped her head. “You’ve been shot. You all right?”
The man glanced at his bleeding arm. “As long as I can,” he twisted the Makarov in his uninjured hand, “shoot with this one, I’m good.” He looked at Hardy and winked. “I’ve always picked the underdogs to win. I’m not about to stop now.” He pushed his chin toward the action. “Bring me up to speed.”
“By my estimate,” Hardy motioned toward the body in the SUV and the one lying on the dock, “counting these two, we’ve taken down five.”
Cruz tilted her head. “Two are still upright over here.”
“At least two hostiles on this side.” Hardy rammed the magazine into the weapon. “I have six pills left to dish out.”
Pence faced Cruz.
The woman tapped her Bushmaster. “Thirty.”
“Okay, so we’re not officially screwed just yet.” The one time drill sergeant rose up and peered through the damaged Land Rover. He spotted approaching headlights, “But we’re not far off,” and ducked back down. “Their reinforcements are arriving…maybe a minute out. Whatever the play is, it’s now or never.”
Hardy eyed the speedboat. “Didn’t you say boats…plural? Where’s the other one?”
Pence pointed at the boathouse. “It’s probably in there.”
“With the keys?”
Pence nodded.
Hardy got into a crouched position, leaned out from the SUV and surveyed the scenario. He saw the oncoming headlights. Thirty seconds. “Cruz, concentrate your firepower on the men at the boathouse.” He gave Pence his gun and gestured at the armed men on his side of the vehicle. “Keep them busy.”
Cruz’s stomach churned and a shiver went up her spine. “What about you?”
“I’m making a run for the building, and the second speeder. When I get there, I’ll lay down cover fire for you two…we find the keys and get out of here.”
Cruz shook her head. “I don’t like this plan.”
“No time to argue.” He kissed the top of her head. “Try to take them out before I get there. Ready Pence?”
Cruz: “Hardy…”
Pence: “Ready.”
Cruz: “…please don’t—”
“Now!” Hardy took off running down the dock.
“You bullheaded jackass.” Cruz put her shoulder to the vehicle, Sorry Lord, and lined up her rifle. She used Hardy’s trick of aiming for the flashes. Each time one appeared, she squeezed off a controlled shot. A flash…a trigger press. A flash…a trigger press. Behind her, Pence’s nine played a similar tune. After ten shots, Cruz saw only single bursts, and put the XM15’s front sight on the intermittent blinking.
… … … … …
Reaching the end of the dock, Hardy leapt, landed on the ground and sprinted forward. He could make out two figures on the left side of the boathouse door. Success of his flawed plan hinged on Cruz killing at least one of them. He would have to improvise from there. He glanced right. Two Land Rovers had joined the fight. Men were pouring out and shouldering rifles.
He shifted his gaze back to the two, armed men in his path. One was sprawled on the deck. That’s my girl. He pumped his arms and prepared to launch himself at the door, hoping to find a weapon inside. Sand clumps flew up around his feet. The last gunman had turned his weapon on Hardy.
… … … … …
Closing her left eye, Cruz took a breath, let out half and aimed at the last beacon. She eased off five precise shots, but the man was still firing.
Pence: “Two rounds left…that’s all I have left.”
Cruz glanced over the Bushmaster’s sights. Left. “Of course…” Eye closed, breath held, she shifted her point of aim to the left and gently touched the trigger. A second later, the boathouse was dark, except for the faint light coming through the windows. Two seconds…darkness. Three seconds…darkness.
Once the gunman had turned his rifle—and body—toward Hardy, Cruz had to adjust her aim for the shooter, instead of the light source.
… … … … …
With all three targets neutralized, Hardy gathered their weapons and laid down cover fire for Cruz and Pence. After they ran past him, Hardy backed into the boathouse strafing the enemy combatants. He tossed the rifle to Pence, grabbed sets of keys from a rack and jumped into the second speedboat. “Shoot anyone who comes through that door. We’ll get this thing running.”
“Copy that.”
Cruz examined the keys, searching for identifiers. “Try this one.”
Hardy inserted the key, but could not twist it.
She fumbled with the rings.
He jammed another key into the ignition. A twisting motion produced the same fruitless result. “Come on.”
Pence stood at the back of the boat, holding the rifle to his shoulder with one arm. “Let’s go people. I have a feeling we’re about to have company. It’s awfully quiet out there.”
Hardy cursed when another key failed to start the engine. He turned around when the boathouse door opened and a figure appeared. He flicked his eyes toward Pence; the man’s body was tensing. Hardy ran, lowered his upper body and plowed into the man. A single shot fired, and a bullet sailed over the camouflaged person’s head, lodging in the wall above the door.
Hardy and Pence toppled over the back of the boat. Ten seconds passed before they surfaced. Spewing water from his mouth, Pence raised the rifle. He had never let go of the weapon.
“Don’t shoot.” Hardy grabbed the barrel and sent it skyward. “Don’t shoot. She’s one of mine.” The face paint had thrown off his recognition, but the bleached blonde hair sticking out from under the boonie registered immediately. He wrapped an arm around Pence and helped the man find the waiting hands of Dahlia and a Navy Seal, who lifted Pence out of the water.
Taking Cruz’s hand, Hardy dragged himself into the boat before both of them hopped onto the dock. After watching his women finish a hug, he beamed at his rescuer. “Nice makeup. I don’t think you’ll get too many dates wearing that though.”
She eyed his dripping clothes. “I’d hug you, too, but someone decided to go for a swim instead.”
Hardy closed the distance between them.
“Don’t you dare.” Dahlia backed up. “I’m just starting to dry out again. Hardy, I swear—” She bumped into a Seal, and the large body cut off her retreat.
Hardy wrapped his arms around her and hugged and squeezed, making sure she got as wet as possible. “I’m glad to see you…and your friends.” He held her at arm’s length. “So you figured out our hidden message?”
“Eventually.” Dahlia wiped a hand over her face. “We initially thought you were somewhere near the northeast part of Nassau. Then Cherry did some digging and discovered an island fifty miles northeast of Nassau that was purchased by an Isaac Wells. Apparently, he’s on the CIA’s watch list for running guns—”
“And drugs…I know.” Hardy glimpsed Cruz and, “We’ve met the chap,” clenched his fists. “I’ll be seeing him again real soon.”
“We’ll all be seeing him again. Jameson received intel from his counterpart at the CIA. There’s a private contractor down here working to bring down this Isaac Wells. He might be able…” Hardy took her by the elbow, “to…”
Hardy held out an open hand toward the man having his wounds attended to by a Seal. “This is the private contractor.” He looked at Pence and put a hand on her shoulder. “This is Dahlia. As I said, she’s a member of my team. Dahlia, meet Tom Pence. Without his help, Cruz and I might very well be dead right now.”
Dahlia stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. “Last name’s St. James…Dahlia St. James. Thank you. I owe you one.”
Pence nodded. “Consider the debt,” he twirled a finger and glanced at the Seals around him, “already paid.”
Dahlia smiled. “Thank you anyway, sir.” She rocked her head backward toward Hardy and Cruz. “These two mean a great deal to me.”
Hardy grinned from ear to ear. “Be careful, Dahlia. This Tom Pence is a real,” he waited a beat, “heartbreaker, I hear.” Heartbreaker was the hit song that catapulted the rock and roller Tom Pence to stardom three decades ago.
Frowning, Dahlia’s gaze went back and forth between the two men.
After accepting a Seal’s outstretched hand and getting to his feet, Pence shook his head and chuckled. “I feel sorry for you, man. You’ve had all this time, and that’s the best you could come up with?”
Smiling, Hardy tipped his head and shrugged.
“You know what,” Pence put a hand on his male counterpart’s shoulder, “since I like you…but mostly because I feel sorry for you…”
Hardy sniggered.
“…I’m going to give you one more free shot.”
Laughing, Hardy overheard one of the Seals.
“This is Warner. Objectives are secured. We’re moving out.” The Chief Petty Officer spied his watch. “We’ll rendezvous with the sub in…”
Hardy turned around. “Question for you, Cruz…” He took a step toward her. “When I took off running for the boathouse, I could’ve sworn I heard you call me a name.”
“Oh?” said Cruz, arching her eyebrows and cocking her head.
“Yeah,” he scratched the side of his neck and frowned, “something about a…strong-willed donkey, I believe.”
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”
“That’s exactly what I thought too.”
The two stared at each other for a few moments until Warner got their attention. “You four stay behind me.” He motioned. “Zeke, you take point. Charlie, Pops, cover our retreat.” He received confirmation from the men, spun around and twirled a finger in the air. “Let’s move out.”
Falling in behind Dalia, Cruz shrugged and said to Hardy, “Well, you know what they say about battle stress.”
Hardy nodded, “I do.” They both said, “It can make you,” before he ended with “say things,” and she finished with, “hear things.” The couple shared a look and a smile before she leaned closer and pushed him with her shoulder.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
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