Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(82)
And thank you, Ranger School, he thought as he listened intently to every subtle rustle, every tiny clink that told him his target crept closer and closer.
As it had the tendency to do when a person’s life was nearing its end, time seemed to slow and stretch. Each of Steady’s heartbeats took an infinity, each of his breaths lasted a millennia. And during this strange time without time, he took the opportunity to clear his mind, clear his heart, wipe clean his soul. In an instant, he became nothing but a blank slate. A thing. A machine. A soldier. One without feeling, without regret, and without remorse.
It was a practice he’d learned very early in his stint with the Army when facing an enemy down the length of his sights or head-on in hand-to-hand combat. Because as a doctor, he was trained to protect life, to save life. But as a Ranger and a spec-ops warrior, he was often tasked with just the opposite, dispatching life with swift and oftentimes brutal precision. So in order to do that, in order to keep his true self from hesitating and giving his adversary an opportunity to get the upper hand, he’d learned to turn off, empty out, let go of Steady and simply…act.
The tree against his back was rough. The air in the jungle hung heavy with the scent of wet foliage and exotic flowers. And the sweat slicking his skin ran down his temples and the groove of his spine. But he sensed none of it. His entire being was focused on one and only one thing. His target. And, then, it was time…
The militant crept by him, crouched low and advancing slowing. Steady slid out from his position behind the tree and slunk onto the heels of the terrorist like the dark specter of death he was. One hand grabbed the man’s perspiration-damp forehead as the other expertly pulled his knife across the guy’s throat. Flesh, muscle, tendon, and vein gave way to the impossible sharpness of his blade. And a soft, surprised gurgle was the only sound to breach the silence of the forest.
Steady held the dying terrorist against him for a brief moment as the man’s lifeblood quickly drained from him. Then he carefully, gently lowered the body to the ground. Which is when he spied the man’s small backpack. Quickly unzipping the main pouch, he pulled out an old, plastic satellite phone the relative size and shape—and weight—of two bricks. Punching in the number for BKI headquarters, he crossed his fingers for a connection. But a double beep told him the damn thing’s battery had run out. Hell. Tossing the useless piece of equipment aside, he grabbed the strap of the AK and slung the machine gun over his shoulder—in a situation like this, a man could never have too many weapons.
Without a backward glance, he stalked in the direction of the one he loved, and thought, without guilt or apology, One down. Three to go…
*
Abby was so relieved to see Carlos materialize from the foliage it took everything she had not to run to him. Of course, along with the fact that exposing herself in any way would be beyond stupid, there was the dark, deadly gleam in his eye, the hard clench of his jaw, and the way he wiped his blade against the front of his cargo pants, leaving behind a—holy shitpickle—dark, wet stain that helped to keep her rooted to the spot.
Blood…
She didn’t need to be told what had happened out there in the eerie green screen of the jungle. One look at him and the newly acquired machine gun slung over his shoulder and she knew the whole story. He had killed. For her. And as grateful as she was that he was walking toward her, so big, so tough, so very capable, a part of her couldn’t help but regret the fact that he’d been forced to take a life in her name.
Why did so many have to die? And when will it all stop?
Her treasonous lower lip threatened to tremble, so she clamped it hard between her teeth. And the tears pricking behind her eyes she quickly, angrily blinked away. She couldn’t have him mistaking her expression of sadness for condemnation or disapproval. That was so far from the truth. He was everything fine and good and brave. So when he took a position beside her—his heat radiating out to her like gentle fingers—she didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze straight on. “Is it taken care of?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral.
He dipped his chin once, a muscle tightening in his jaw.
“Good.” She raked in a deep breath. “So what’s next?”
She thought she saw his eyes clear, just a little. And if she wasn’t mistaken his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. But instead of answering her, he turned and yelled in the direction of the logging road, “In case you were wondering, you’re down one man! And if my math is right, now it’s your three guns to my two!”
A muffled bark of rage came from across the road some distance behind them. Further along, Shadow Man hissed something in Malay, obviously a command for whoever was moving in their direction to keep quiet. Abby watched as Carlos glanced quickly around the tree, calculating range and scope and probably a whole slew of other variables she couldn’t possibly comprehend.
After a couple of seconds, Shadow Man called back, “I still like my odds!”
“Which just proves what a f*cking idiot you really are!” It was obvious Carlos was taunting the guy, and Abby could only assume he was trying to force Shadow Man into acting irrationally. Or else he was simply trying to keep track of everyone’s location. She didn’t have time to ask him which one it was because he turned to Yonus, whispering, “They’re trying to get ahead of us, likely to keep us from making a break for the truck. Which is why we need to move. Now!”