Rock Me Deeper (Licks of Leather #5) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,75
Ross and Darren, crouched at each corner of the large plate-glass window, in the front room. Quinn was tucked in tight against the wall beside the screen door.
“I’m working on it, bossy. Dammit…Tony’s not moving.” Al’s voice was rife with worry and frustration for not being able to get the sniper who’d wounded his teammate in his crosshairs.
“We’ll get to him as soon as we can, T. Focus on the sniper,” Cole’s calm voice came through the com.
As Ozzy and I rushed to our designated spots in the kitchen, none of the other women were at their assigned locations. I slid to a stop along the wall framing the sliding glass door and watched over my shoulder as Ozzy sprinted past Burk—stretched out on his stomach atop the marble countertop and weapon aiming out the window above the kitchen sink, past the past the stainless-steel appliances, before skidding to a halt beside another back door in the mudroom.
“Tony got shot?” I asked Burk in a stage whisper.
“Yeah. In the leg, but it knocked him out of the tree stand, and Al said Tony’s not moving.”
“I heard that, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead.”
“I know, but it does mean we have more crazies besides Zattman to deal with.”
“Where’s Sofia, Tori, and Harmony?”
“Ruben took them downstairs. He’s locking them up with Dustin and the grandparents.”
“How’d you talk the girls into doing that?”
“We took a vote,” Burk answered dryly. “They could either go willingly, or…”
I chuckled thinking about all the choice words Sofia probably unloaded on him.
“We’ll be on Social Security before any of us get laid again.”
“Not me, fucker,” I gloated. “Caris is up there counting down the minutes till she’s riding my anaconda again.”
“Found him,” Al barked a split second before another gunshot split the night air.
“Status?” McCoy bellowed.
“Neutralized,” Al answered jubilantly. “I’m heading down to check on T. I’ve got my first-aid field kit and—” A third shot cut the man off in mid-sentence.
Though the mic went silent, Al’s cry of pain seeped through the sturdy log structure of the lodge.
“Goddammit!” McCoy bellowed. “Base to one, report. Repeat, base to one. Report!”
“I’m here, boss,” Al replied, gasping in pain. “Took one to the thigh that took me out of the tree. I’m trying to get back to the stand—”
“Negative. Stay down. I repeat, stay down.”
“Five to base,” Cole interrupted. “Second sniper’s in the trees north of the studio.”
“Ten-four, five. You get a bead on the son of a bitch, you take him out. Copy?”
“Already working on it, boss.”
“McCoy inhaled deeply. “Al, if you can retrieve T, do it. If not, I want you to hunker down and stay undercover until we can pull you both out. Copy?”
“Ten-four,” Al bit out.
McCoy shoved his walkie-talkie into the case on his hip and yanked out his cell phone. After a short but explosive conversation with the FBI, he ended the call and keyed his radio again.
“Five and six, you got a location on the second sniper yet?”
“Negatory,” Cole replied.
Then a few short seconds later, he announced, “We got movement. The Escalade just turned into the driveway, heading toward the lodge, nice and slow.”
“Copy. Do me a favor, Cole.”
“Anything boss.”
“Line that cocksucker’s head in your sights and blow his fucking brains out the first chance you get.”
“Be my pleasure.”
McCoy pressed his lips to a thin, tight line as he strode to the other end of the patio door. Lifting his gun, he slowly inched the edge of the curtain back. As he started to lean forward to get a visual on his men pinned down behind the lodge, another gunshot rent the night, and the patio door exploded, sending shards of glass and curtain fragments into the air.
As McCoy twisted his body away from the carnage, a startled shout tore from my throat. Dropping to my haunches, I tossed my arms over my head as glass and bits of fabric rained down over us.
“Syd!” Burk yelled, his tone dripping in fear.
“I’m good, brother. But Quinn’s gonna have to buy a new patio door.”
“Not a problem,” the man himself replied from somewhere in the living room.
“Base, we got a slight issue out here,” Cole announced with a barely perceptible hitch in his normally placid tone.
“Go ahead.”
“Brad and I just got lit up like a couple kids with the chicken pox. Multiple laser sights locked on us.”
“Yes. And the only thing keeping your men alive, McCoy is me,” Zattman’s voice, gloating in victory, came through the mic.