Seek and Destroy (41 page)

    Damn his shoulder. It had already started to stiffen in the cold. Switching hands for more mobility, he set out in search of the noise.

    Damn, it was freezing out here. He'd already lost the feeling in his bare feet as he silently moved across the frozen snow. The thin material of his t-shirt did nothing to protect him from the elements. It had to be in the single digits. Maybe less. Whatever. It was fucking cold. The material of his jeans stiffened against the frigid air.

    Wonderful. As if his stiff shoulder wouldn't be enough of a hindrance, now his clothes had to work against him as well.

    He didn't have a breath dissipater with him, so he only let out small breaths as he crouched around. The mist from his breath would give away his position. At least the blackness of the night worked to his advantage.

    He tried to will his body to stop shivering. For the most part, it worked. Every few seconds he felt another shiver wash up his spine, but he ignored it. His heart thudded in his ears and he forced a sense of calm.

    Another noise had him spinning around, gun cocked and ready.

    There was nothing there.

    Son-of-a-bitch. His pulse jumped up as he deftly rounded the house. There, in the frost on the grass, a set of footprints too big to be Charis' marked where someone had walked the perimeter. Maybe they belonged to Chris.

    Maybe not.

    He wasn't going to take any chances. He crept around the house and peeked toward the front. The footprints disappeared into the night. Shit. He'd have to almost be on top of them to see them. The darkness swallowed up everything. No way would he to step out into the open. Might as well have a glow-in-the-dark target painted on his chest.

    He heard a twig snap off towards the woods behind the house. What he wouldn't give for a pair of NVG right now. At least heat-seekers if he couldn't get his hands on night vision. KevSpa would be nice, too. He felt like an open target out here with nothing but a lousy 9mm to ward off whatever asshole had decided to pay them a visit.

    After being cooped up in the house for days, he craved some kind of action. Now that he had it, knowing Charis remained inside, alone and probably freaking out, he regretted it. His shoulder ached. His lungs ached. His body felt numb from the cold.

    Blinking over and over to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and still not able to see shit, he took a step out into the open to follow the footprints.

    A shot came out of the darkness. He heard the report one-half second before the bullet plowed into the ground at his feet, spraying his leg with frozen shards of grass blades and dirt.

    Jesus Christ! He dove for cover behind him into one of the perfectly groomed bushes.

    "David!" Charis cried out from inside the house.

    "Stay inside," he ordered, "and stay clear of the windows." His mind raced at what to do next. They were sitting ducks in the house. She didn't have the firepower he needed to defend the abode.

    But she did have brothers. And they, he wagered, did.

    "Call in the amigos, love."

    Another shot whistled by, narrowly missing his head. He ducked down further. Shit. They were under attack. The report stayed steady at one-half second. So, the sniper remained stationary. Good to know.

    If he could find a way to inch his way back behind the house, he just might be able to get the jump on the shooter. He didn't have a clue how, but he refused to just sit here hiding behind a bush. He slowly rose to his haunches.

    Another gunshot stopped him from going anywhere. He fell back as the bullet narrowly missed his head. It slammed against the house. Little splinters flew off the siding and nicked his cheek. He barely felt it.

    Well, shit. Now what? Either the sniper was a lousy shot or he purposely kept him alive for a reason.

    A cold, harsh realization smacked into his mind. No. The son-of-a-bitch tried to keep him outside, away from Charis. God
damn
it. He jumped out, and then dove back behind the bush when another bullet whistled by, narrowly missing his ear.

    Eventually he'll get lucky and hit David, or grow tired of playing with him like a cat plays with the mouse before it kills it and eats it.

    He shuddered, blaming the cold. Think, damn it. He had to find a way to get out from behind the bush without getting shot. That would be step one. Then he had to find the bastard shooting at him. Step two. He'd get whatever information he had out of him before adding a third eye. Step three.

    One.

    Two.

    Three.

    Easy? Yeah, damn easy. He adjusted to inch up to his haunches again, this time painfully slow. Good, no shots fired. Even slower, he moved toward the side of the house.

    Bam! The bullet whizzed by and slammed into the house, this time on the opposite side of his head. Again the splinters sliced into his cheek and down his neck.

    "Fuck!" He grunted and sank back down. He was going to freeze to death waiting here. And he would not just sit here, leaving Charis completely exposed. Screw it. Without a second thought, he jumped up and dove for the side of the house. The two shots fired narrowly missed him, but they did miss him.

    Step one.
Check
.

    Now to find the asshole shooter. He darted from bush to bush, tree to tree, his weapon at his ready. He slipped behind another tree and started to move to the next one when his neck hairs stood up.

    Oh shit. Now what?

    He heard the distinctive click of a gun being cocked. That didn't sound like a sniper rifle. No, that one was a pistol, and the shooter stood no more than fifty feet away. Glancing in all directions, he fought against the dark to try and find the other shooter.

    "Stay low," he heard a male voice state. "I've got him in my sites. Go around to the other side."

    Oh please. Did they think he didn't hear that? His voice gave up his position. It wouldn't take much effort to find him and his friends, and to let them know how he felt about unexpected visitors.

    He spotted movement off to his left, and then to his right. Shit. They surrounded the house. Who
they
were didn't matter. They shot at him, and they moved dangerously close to Charis.

    Double whammy.

    Another movement to his left. Thanks to the porch light, he just made out their shadows. Two on his left. One on his right.

    Just then another report of a shot rang through the air. He stiffened and waited for the bullet to show itself, but it never did.

    "Got him."

    Who got whom? What the hell was going on?

    "I'll collect Snyder before he shits himself."

    Goddamn it. He knew that voice. Charis' PITA of a brother. "McKoy! What the fuck is going on?"

    Chris stepped into the light of the porch. Dressed in head to toe black KevSpa-typical NASSD field ops attire-he flashed him the biggest annoying grin. David felt like jumping him and physically removing that smile. But, then again, the man, and his friends, did just save his life.

    But it would sure as hell make him feel better.

    "Were you hit?" Chris replaced his pistol in the holster. David shook his head. "I'll explain everything as soon as we get you and my sister out of here. You have ten minutes."

    "What happened to the team NASSD sent?"

    Chris smiled again. "You're looking at them. Snyder, meet my brother Mitch." Another monster-sized man stepped out of the darkness and stood next to Chris. He had the same dark features and blazing blue eyes as the other McKoy's. Another man stepped out of the darkness from the other side and went to stand on the other side of Chris. Again, the same striking features David now understood to be telltale McKoy. And equally as big as the other two. All dressed in head to toe NASSD-issued KevSpa. "And Seth."

    "Well," David scratched his chin with the barrel of his gun. "I never thought I'd say this, but I sure am glad to see you again."

    Chris pushed at his ear, listening. He nodded and motioned for Seth with a nod of his head. "Go help Logan with clean up. Apparently the guy isn't dead."

    "Knowing Logan, he will be by the time I get up there," Seth replied sharply and jogged off toward the direction the shots came from.

    "Keep him breathing," David called after him. "I want some answers."

    "You got it," Seth shouted back and disappeared in the dark.

    "All clear," Chris spoke into another mic. He switched it off and nodded toward the house. "You've got eight minutes left, Snyder. Let's move."

    

    

    "Are you sure you need to do that in here?" Charis paced behind David as he tried to get information out of the stranger Logan and Seth had dragged inside. The gunshot wound on his shoulder caused a bright red puddle to form under the man's left side, a large pool staining her otherwise stainless carpet. "He's getting blood all over my carpet."

    David turned and glared at her. She snapped her mouth shut. Fighting for control over her impatience, she went back to pacing behind them.

    "Who sent you?" David ordered. The man looked up at him and sneered. His mud-colored eyes narrowed up at him. Tied to a chair, it was about all the movement he could do.

    "I tell you nothing, you American Pig!" He spat at David.

    He lowered himself to the man's eye level, not even bothering to wipe the scum's saliva off his face. Full of blood, the spit ran down his cheek and dripped down onto the man's lap. Her stomach turned.

    "You
will
tell me, my friend."

    The man glared at David. "I am no friend of yours! If I don't?"

    "I'll cut out your tongue." As he spoke, evenly and precariously low, she stopped pacing. She'd never seen this side of him before. He'd gone from loving and protecting to dangerous and lethal. She had no doubt he would cut out this man's tongue if he didn't tell him what he knew. The thought made her swallow several times to hold the contents of her stomach in check.

    "Who sent you?"

    "I say nothing!"

    He brought out a knife and, with a quick flick of the wrist, extended the blade with a resounding snap. The reflection of the shiny metal caught in the man's eyes. She saw the fear in them. Hell,
she
was scared.

    Grabbing the man's jaw, David forced his mouth open. He reached in and yanked out the man's tongue. Oh God. He was really going to do it. She turned away.

    "No!"

    "Too late, asshole. Any last words before you lose the ability to speak?"

    "Go to hell!"

    "Wrong answer."

    The man screamed. Despite not wanting to watch, she whipped back around. He had the knife against the man's tongue, the blade ever so slightly slicing into his flesh. Blood started to drip out of his mouth.

    Oh dear God. He was actually cutting out that man's tongue. And she watched, paralyzed by the sight. She covered her mouth with her hand.

    He started to cough and gag on his own blood. "No! No, please! I talk. I tell you!"

    David removed the knife and stepped back, smiling. Oh Jesus. How could he
smile
? He had started to slice out a man's tongue! She started to breathe erratically. Maybe she should have stayed in the bedroom with Seth, like David recommended. But this was her house, damn it. She had every right to be here.

    And now she wanted to be anywhere but standing here, watching this.

    "That's more like it. Now, who sent you?"

    "My name is Ameer."

    "I don't give a shit if you're Santa Claus. Who. Sent. You?"

    "I can not say."

    In an instant, he grabbed this Ameer's mouth and reached in for his tongue. Her hand flew back to her mouth.

    "No!" His head jerked back when David threw his jaw out of his hands. "You do not understand. I can not say because I do not know his name."

    "How did he contact you? And when?"

    "Yesterday. I get contact from him. He give me this address today. Say to watch house. If man from picture in sight, shoot him."

    David grit his teeth, clenched his jaw. She watched it turn white. He labored his breathing as he walked back and forth in front of the man. "Show me."

    The man motioned for his front shirt pocket. David reached in and yanked out a folded up black and white surveillance photo. As he unfolded it, she peeked around him and spotted a photo of him at the baggage claim carousel at SeaTac Airport.

    Only one man could have gotten a hold of that photo. He'd been right. Surreal did ID him. Not only that, he'd sent out a hitter. He screamed out his favorite cuss word. She jumped, as did the man tied to the chair.

    "Hey guys?"

    He swung around as Seth came running into the room. She couldn't draw her eyes away from the man in the chair. He locked his gaze on her and even gave her a bloody smile.

    "Oh God," she muttered.

    David turned, saw the man staring at her, and kicked him. Hard. The man cried out in pain and darted his eyes away from her. "You don't look at her. If you so much as breathe in her direction, it will be your last breath."

    "You won't kill me," he goaded.

    He already turned back toward Seth, but when the man spoke, turned slightly to throw a look over his shoulder. "Do you honestly want to test out that theory?"

    The man kept his head down.

    Seth spoke up. "Take a look at this. Hollow point. Something in the center, but I don't know what. I've sealed it in a biohazard bag, just in case. There are two more still in the rifle."