Voices.
Mumbled. Low. Barely rising above the patter of rain.
Zain ducked behind a large bush, giving Saylor room to sneak in behind him before slipping out to get a bead on the men.
There.
Off to the right.
Nothing more than shadows amidst the darkness, but he adapted — waited until they shifted enough for him to distinguish their silhouettes.
Four.
Make that five.
All wearing body armor and carrying assault rifles. What looked like frags on their vests. Definitely more than he’d bargained for, and exactly why he preferred to scout alone. When only his life was on the line. Having Saylor with him…
It changed everything.
His tactics. His motivation.
His entire thought process.
What if he made a move, and she got caught in the crossfire? Or he didn’t, and they capped her while he was trying to regroup?
What if he failed the only woman he suspected he’d ever love?
Saylor elbowed him. Not hard, but enough it got his attention. She made a few hand gestures. She’d go rightwhile he flanked left. Exactly what he’d do if Kash or Chase had accompanied him.
He weighed his options. He could drop two before the bastards even knew he was there. And he bet his ass Saylor could down at least one. That would even the playing field, number wise. But with all that firepower…
Chances were, the others would retreat. Live to challenge them another day. Otherwise, they’d be carrying RPGs. Would have launched an attack from the tree line and simply leveled his home. The fact it looked as if they’d circled the property a few times meant this was likely a recon mission. Probably planned to set up some cameras, a mic. Mark his cabin in case they wanted to hit it from a drone, later.
Regardless, he hadn’t ventured this far in to turn around without assessing their skill set. Judged if they were ex-military looking to score some quick cash or just assholes who got off on the kill.
He nodded, mouthing that they’d only engage if provoked before moving off to the left as Saylor paralleled him on the right. Trailing after the men as they wove through the forest, angling a bit west in what he assumed was an attempt to get a better sightline on his house. He stayed low, pausing when any of them checked their six. More of a habit, it appeared, than concern, each guy barely scanning the woods before carrying on.
Zain reached the spot where Jordan had confronted him the first night she’d stayed with Kash — the slight opening giving him a better view of the men — when a low hum vibrated through the air. Barely perceivable.More like the distant growl of an engine than anything else. The men obviously heard it, too, because they stopped — turned.
The guy Zain had pegged as the leader held his hand up to his ear, shushing his crew as he nodded to whoever was talking into his earpiece. Another damn red flag because comm units meant organized. What screamed Spec Op-type mission.
Zain focused on where Saylor had stopped, motioning for her to fall back, when that asshole with the comm unit grunted, then started firing. No warning, just the rifle lifting to his shoulder, then chaos. Bullets cut through the foliage, dropping branches and needles as the bastard sprayed the surrounding area.
Zain popped up — clipped the guy in the shoulder with one shot — before he hoofed it toward Saylor. Zigzagging through the tress. Leaping over a downed log, then sliding on the mud — scrambling to his feet beside her ten seconds later. Just in time to cover her as the other men started shooting.
Bullets ricocheted off rocks and trees, whizzing past his shoulder. Kicking up mud and moss. Drowning out the storm as it raged overhead. Footsteps pounded the ground, twigs and branches snapping as the men raced toward them.
Zain rolled off Saylor and fired half a dozen rounds into the mix. “Get ready to run. And don’t fucking stop unless I yell.”
Saylor waited until he tapped her shoulder, then took off, firing a few shots back at the men — catching one of them in the thigh before disappearing into thebrush. Zain followed suit, going through the rest of his mag before darting behind a tree as the path lit up with more automatic fire.
He changed mags, waited for an opening, then booked it, diving for cover when another asshole appeared off to his right. Bullets preceding every step as the guy closed the distance. Eating up the mud and the ferns. Killing any chance at sourcing more cover until his gun clicked.
Zain didn’t hesitate. Just popped up and caught the guy twice in the chest. He staggered back, bounced off a tree, then recovered, his damn armor keeping him in the game. An oversight Zain wouldn’t make again. Assuming he made it out in one piece.
Avoiding the next round was half-luck, half-fate, Zain’s hits affecting the guy’s aim just enough he missed wide as Zain scrambled behind a tree. Voices sounded around him, all those footsteps closing in.
He readied his gun, his next mag already in his pocket, when Saylor burst out of the underbrush, gun at the ready, dropping two front runners with hits to their vests. Not lethal, but it opened up his left side — gave them an out.
