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Kendra ducked and scrambled for the safety of the closest car.
Gasping, panting, she crouched right behind the engine block, knowing that this was the most solid part of the vehicle, offering the best protection.
Two more rounds ricocheted off the car’s hood, drawing sparks from the bodywork.
Huddling against the car’s tyre, Kendra reached behind her and unzipped the top of the backpack. She pulled the ballistic vest down over her head and secured it around her front. Then, drawing her pistol, she snapped the suppressor on.
Despite the adrenaline, she forced herself to take measured breaths and slow her racing heartbeat. She didn’t want to get anxious and over-pressurise her blood with stress. She couldn’t afford fidgety muscles and frantic thoughts.
Breathe. Focus. Stay calm.
Kendra peered under the car, trying to locate the tango, but the view was too limited, and she couldn’t see a damn thing. However, she didn’t want to raise her head above the hood either, nor did she want to make herself visible through the car’s windows. That’s exactly what the tango would be expecting.
So Kendra crab-walked to the rear of the car instead, taking up a new position right beside the trunk. Of course, this was a risk. The trunk was the weakest part of any vehicle, its hollow construction making it easy for bullets to pass through. But she was counting on her vest to protect her, and besides, she didn’t plan on sticking here for too long.
Kendra inched sideways, curving herself around the rear bumper, tracking her gun this way and that way. The fact that the tango was using a suppressed weapon made it difficult to determine where he was, but she figured that he had descended from the staircase, so she aimed in that general direction—
That’s when another two rounds drummed into the front of the car, this time shattering one of the headlights, sending fragments of plastic and glass tinkling.
Kendra inhaled.
He still thinks I’m right beside the engine block. He’s trying to keep me pinned down so he can outflank me.
Kendra exhaled, feeling her confidence rise.
He didn’t have an exact fix on her position, and that was good.
She heard footsteps echoing, and she craned her neck. She caught a glimpse of the tango. He was threading his way between the vehicles up ahead, his pistol raised in a two-handed grip, his body held sideways in a Centre Axis Relock stance, minimising his profile.
He had broad shoulders that tapered down to slim hips. And, yeah, he wore an untucked shirt with cargo trousers.
He’s part of the surveillance team. The fourth member. Delta.
That realisation didn’t give Kendra much comfort.
Somehow she had missed him earlier, and the only way that could have happened was if he was on overwatch duty, perched high on a rooftop, helping his team at street level with optics.
But she decided not to agonise over it.
Doesn’t matter. All that counts is right here, right now.
Kendra leaned out, taking aim at Delta, acquiring a sight picture.
She knew her posture wasn’t great and the angle was poor, but she fired a cluster of shots anyway, puncturing the windows of one car, then another.
Their alarms went off, wailing in a shrill tempo, and Delta reacted by zigzagging backwards and dropping out of sight.
Kendra knew she hadn’t hit him, but that wasn’t the point. She only needed to halt his forward momentum so that she could make a move.
Rising to one knee, she fired several more shots, then she turned and launched herself into a dash, keeping her head down, reaching the row of vehicles just opposite.
She slid into cover behind the closest car, flattening herself behind the engine block just as Delta fired on her once more. Bullets thwacked into the car’s front grill and ripped into the tyres. Air whispered from the shredded rubber as the car sagged.
Sweating, Kendra sucked in breaths through her clenched teeth. She performed a tactical reload, swapping her half-empty magazine for a full one.
She wondered if anyone would respond to the alarms.
Maybe the police?
Maybe private security?
Hell, no...
Everyone was too preoccupied with the blast at Farmers.
Who would care about a little ruckus happening in a parking garage?
Shaking her head, swallowing, Kendra made a quick assessment of her situation. Delta was blocking her path to the stairs, so that route was definitely out of the question. However, there was a ramp right behind her. It led up to the next level.
If only I can get to it...
Kendra decided that some dialogue with Delta was in order, if only to buy herself some time. So she cleared her throat and raised her voice over the sound of the alarms, ‘Hey! Listen! I didn’t kill your team down at Farmers. I had nothing to do with that.’
She waited.
She counted down the seconds.
Eventually Delta spoke, his voice angry, his accent local, ‘You’re lying. I saw you frisking Cronin. That’s how you got the keys to the car. You’re working with Onyx.’
Kendra used the distraction to peel away from the car she was using as cover, and she carefully inched her way around the next car behind her. ‘Onyx? Is that the code name you’ve assigned to Ryan Hosseini?’
‘Don’t fuck with me. You know exactly who Onyx is.’
Kendra inched past yet another car. ‘No, I don’t know. I was only trying to help your friend. He was hurt real bad—’
‘Shut up! Just shut up!’
Kendra heard running footsteps, followed by Delta firing his weapon in a wild barrage. He was striking the car that he thought she was still hiding behind. Then Kendra heard the metallic echo of his pistol’s slide locking back on empty.
That surprised her.
Delta had given in to emotion, and now he had left himself exposed, running dry on ammo at the worst possible moment.
Exploit it. Now.
Kendra abandoned her plan to go for the ramp. Instead she went on the offensive. She button-hooked out of cover, bringing her pistol up to bear, sidestepping, and she caught Delta leaning against a minivan.
He was dropping his spent magazine and about to slot a fresh one in.
She jerked her chin, closing the distance. ‘Drop it. Drop it.’
Delta’s face was contorted in rage, and he slapped his magazine in anyway, releasing his gun’s slide and chambering a round.
Kendra double-tapped him in the chest.
He staggered back, grunting, bumping against the minivan’s side mirror. He fell to one knee, but he still managed to raise his weapon, his aim wobbling. He was obviously wearing a ballistic vest under his shirt.
Kendra had no choice.
So she double-tapped Delta in the forehead, and he went down for good.