Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2)(70)

It’s the guy I tussled with outside my motel room and then talked to at the gate to McCormack’s property.

I know I told Ariana to shoot for the ATV, but I figure the ATV will be useless if there’s no one alive to drive it. I put my crosshairs on the driver, lead him in relation to his speed, and squeeze the trigger as I keep my rifle moving.

The bullet smashes through his skull. The ATV runs directly into a rock the size of a microwave, and the passenger and dead driver fly headfirst over the vehicle. As Mr. Broken Nose rises, I put the crosshairs on him. He climbs aboard the ATV and tries to start it again. I could have killed him already, but I’m hesitating. It’s not panic. Not like in my dream. It’s something else. Just a feeling.

He pauses what he’s doing, as if he can sense he’s in my sights, and he looks my way. Even though we’re separated by a good two hundred yards and there’s no way he can see me with any clarity, I feel like we’re staring eye to eye.

I line the crosshairs directly over the splint on his nose. One squeeze of the trigger and I would spray his brains over ten feet of sagebrush and rocks.

When I confronted him at the gate and encouraged him to do the right thing, he didn’t say anything to suggest I made a dent in his armor. But I can’t help but hope I made some kind of impression. Maybe he’s not completely lost.

I lower my rifle, and instead of killing him, I put two rounds into the engine block of the ATV. Mr. Broken Nose darts for cover behind a cluster of boulders.

His retreat breaks me from my trance. I hope my mercy doesn’t come back to haunt us.

Ariana fires on her side.

“One ATV down,” she shouts. “The men are taking cover.”

“I took out one ATV, too,” I say, my voice hoarse and rough.

That leaves one more ATV. From where we are, we can’t see it. We can only hear it. The motor has slowed, and it sounds like it’s taking its time descending the hill. The two that were flanking us were easy targets, so whoever is driving this one has moved into a more direct line. That means if we step out to shoot at it, we’ll be exposed to Gareth on the hill with his sniper rifle.

“When he gets down here,” I say, “it’s going to be a close-quarters gun battle. Get ready.”

But the ATV doesn’t come. Instead, when it’s closer, within a hundred yards or so, it sits and idles. There is no talking among the soldiers, but I get an idea of what they’re doing. The men on foot are making their way down the hill following a more direct line between the tanker and the sniper, gaining some cover.

“Can you get a shot on anyone?” I ask.

“No.”

I peek my head out to try to find Mr. Broken Nose, but a bullet zings past me from the idling ATV. I lean back to a safer position.

We have slowed their descent, but we haven’t stopped it. They’re on a path we can’t get to without exposing ourselves. When they get to the bottom of the hill, they’ll try to rush us.

It will be two against five.

Semiautomatic weapons versus automatic weapons.

And those odds don’t take into account Gareth, looming a thousand yards away with a gun so powerful and accurate that he can reach across that space with a high-velocity bullet and kill us before we even hear the report of the rifle.

Bullets start flying into the dirt in automatic bursts, creating dust clouds around us.

They’re not trying to hit us—they just want to keep us pinned down. I huddle under the tank and try to breathe. I need to calm my frayed nerves. Ariana crawls over and we crouch back to back.

“Should we surrender?” Ariana asks, her voice full of fear.

“They won’t let us live,” I say. “We know too much.”

I glance over at Kyle and Dale lying dead and bloody in the dirt. We will be joining them in another minute or two.

Something catches my eye.

When Kyle was running toward us, he was carrying the gun and the ammo can, but there was something else, a satchel of some sort. I squint through the dust cloud and realize what it is.

“Thank you, Kyle,” I say aloud, slinging my rifle over my shoulder and preparing to run. “You’re not only a hero—you’re a goddamn genius.”





Chapter 88



AS SOON AS there’s a lull in the AR-15s firing, I sprint from my hiding spot. I don’t even take the time to explain to Ariana what I’m doing. I’m just up and gone.

I snag the satchel without breaking stride. Bullets strafe the dirt behind me as I dive behind Kyle’s F-150. They fire into the truck, and a metallic symphony fills the air. Jewels of glass explode from the windshield.

I make myself as small as possible, curled up and head down like I’m in elementary school during a tornado drill. Hollywood will have you believe a bullet can’t pass through a vehicle, but that’s far from true. A round from an AR-15 could enter a driver-side door and fly right through and out the passenger door on the other side. Fortunately, I’m at the front of the truck and they’re shooting from the back, at a slightly downward angle from the hill, so there’s a whole lot of metal to go through to get to me. They have to practically shoot through the whole truck lengthwise.

Finally, the firing stops. The silence in its aftermath is overwhelming.

I dig into the satchel, trying to be quiet so they’ll think I’m dead. I glance over at Ariana. She has a terrified, confused expression on her face, but when I pull out a bundle of road flares from the bag, a different look comes over her features.