Cold Day in Hell (46 page)

She thought about it. “Ya know, a Burrito Supreme, extra sour cream and some green sauce sounds yummy right about now.” She inhaled and then on her exhale took a shot at the bogie coming around the corner of Big Earl’s.

“Good shot,
chica
,” Berto said. “He was on my tail. Cover me. This seems to be a popular destination. I’m going up to better defend.”

Callie, along with Loren, said, “Roger that.” She kept her eye on the area around Berto. “Loren, is that a bogie by the marina’s gas pump?” Big Earl only had a single diesel pump for the boats.

“Fuck yeah. There’s a wood support in my way. I don’t have a clear shot.” He cursed. “Don’t want to blow the pump.”

She eyed the area. She had a head shot and took it. “Did I get him?” Big Earl let out a rebel yell which reverberated around the marina area. “Damn fine shooting, little girl. Wish I had you covering my ass in the Gulf.”

“Thanks.” She blew out a breath and did a mental count on her ammo in the current mag.
Three more shots in this one
. Loren had done most of the shooting since her last switch out.

She blinked. “Losing my vision here. Damn cold is making my eyes water.”

“Go inside the house, baby,” Risto urged. “Take a short break. Use the restroom.

Pregnant women snipers are allowed breaks. Right, Loren?” Loren chuckled. “Go, Callie. Stay low. I’ve got the guys covered.”

“Thanks. I could use a potty break and a face wash.”

Not to mention washing out the sick taste in her mouth. Scooching backwards, she turned and belly-crawled around the corner of the dormer and toward the door to the attic.

When she was less than a yard away, the door burst open. A man barreled through, a Glock in his hand. He moved first toward Loren’s position.

“Loren! Behind you,” she whispered urgently into the cheek mike.

The fucker had either ignored her as a threat or hadn’t realized there were two snipers on the walkway. He shot at Loren. His sharp gasp of pain made her wince.

Loren’s return shot sent the tango back her way as he took shelter on the other side of the dormer closest to Loren’s position. Loren sent several more shots the bad guy’s way, keeping him pinned down. The man didn’t know it yet, but he was caught between the two of them and wasn’t getting off this roof alive.

Tuning out the background shouts for status on her headset, she rolled and rolled until she could get around the edge of the dormer closer to her gun set up.

“Hold on, Loren,” she spoke in a toneless voice into the headset. She pulled out the Glock from the back holster. Peeking around the corner, she took a shot at the ass of the man still trying to kill Loren. Her shot took him down, but she could tell by his angry bellows he wasn’t mortally wounded and still a danger.

“Loren! He’s down,” she shouted now. The only response over her headset was labored breathing and Risto’s and the other men’s increasingly frantic demands to know what was going on.

She took a look around the corner and found the wounded man crawling toward the attic door. He had no easy shot, his arms fully engaged in pulling himself along the walkway. She came around the corner low and took her shot. The tango was down, his head half blown off.

Carefully, she duck-walked toward the body, keeping below the widow’s walk fencing, then shoved his gun away from his hand and removed a knife from a scabbard on his thigh.

Then and only then did she check on Loren. He smiled at her, but she could tell he was in pain. He held his shoulder, applying pressure, but was bleeding profusely.

“Bad guy’s dead. Loren’s hit. It looks bad. Position is compromised. I need help.”

“Coming, sweetheart. Cover the attic door. We’ll be coming up through the house, clearing it. Any bogies in the house will be shoved ahead of us toward your position.”

“Got it.” She turned worried eyes to Loren. “Loren? The shot went through your vest?”

“Cop-killers. Fucker was too close.” Callie made a move toward him. He would need help in stopping the bleeding. “Stay there, kiddo. I can cover the door.” He released the pressure on his wound long enough to switch his hand gun from his dominant side to the ground on his left side. He grunted. “You get your eyes back on that scope and cover our guys’ asses.”

She nodded, stayed low, and shut the attic door which flapped in the circling winds.

Using her lower body strength, she used a balustrade to brace herself and shoved the dead man’s body with her legs, effectively blocking the door. Anyone trying to come onto the roof would make a lot of noise before they could move the obstruction out of the way.

Loren gave her a thumbs-up. He had a field dressing on his shoulder now, he must have had a field med kit in his sniper bag. He seemed to be handling his side arm just fine. “Callie blocked the attic door with the d.b.,” Loren spoke into his headset. “So when you need to come out, let us know.”

“That’s my woman. We’re almost there.”

“Take your time, Marine. We’re fine.” Callie took several calming breaths, gobbled down another cracker, then took up her sniper position once more. She blocked out Loren’s harsh breathing and the noise of the other men working their way through the town. Gradually, her heart rate slowed back to that of a mild jog rather than that of an allout sprint. The sick feeling in her stomach subsided to a manageable ache. Blinking away the wetness in her eyes, she scanned the marina. She spotted several of the locals taking out their targets. As she continued her surveillance, movement by the boats had her narrowing her vision. “Action near berths five and six.” Big Earl swore virulently. “Those are my fucking boats.” Heavy thudding footsteps and harsh breathing indicated Earl and someone else were on the run. Several seconds later, she spotted him and another local. A flurry of shots and the two men approaching the boat docks were down. “Got those assholes. Good eye, Callie. You take care of old Loren and you, ya hear?”

“Roger that. Loren’s taking care of himself.” She shot a glance to her side to make sure that was so. He winked at her. His Glock in his non-dominant hand was aimed at the doorway. His position protected his body from shots from below.

A bullet struck the door to the attic, high and in the middle. The shot came from a similar elevation to theirs. “Loren? Where did that come from?” She’d already begun a search of all the roofs north of their position, keeping in mind Berto had said he was going to the roof on Big Earl’s.

“Trajectory indicates the Bait Shop or the one just west of it.” Loren said. “Berto, what do you see from the diner?”

“Nada, the roof line here blocks the buildings to the west.” Berto’s answer was immediate.

Callie zeroed in on the Bait Shop which was two doors away from Big Earl’s, west along the main drag. Her vision tunneled and she watched for movement. There. The fucker was readying another shot. “I see him.”

She took the shot and the guy jerked, his hand clasping the shoulder of his gun hand.

She shot him again at the same time as Loren. Both shots hit. She peered around the corner at her childhood friend. He’d taken the shot, one-handed, his non-dominant side.

“How can you shoot a Barrett one-handed?”

“Practice, honey. Way too much fucking practice.” He slumped down against the side of his dormer, his sniper rifle lying at his side and his Glock back in his hand. “How many shots left in your mag?”

She thought. “Um, one, I think.”

“Reload, Callie. I’ve got the door.”

“Reloading.” She swiftly took out the partially empty magazine and shoved in a full one.

“How are your back-ups?” Loren asked, his voice shaky.

“I reloaded them. The one I just took out is the only one not full.” She crawled to him. He was really pale. Pain pinched the corners of his mouth and his skin seemed stretched extra-tight over his cheek bones. “Risto, Loren doesn’t look so hot.”

“Paul and I are in the house clearing the floors. Conn’s on the front door. They bring the fight here, they’re dead meat. Hold on.”

“Okay.” Loren’s lips attempted to form a smile but failed abysmally. “Um, Loren said okay too.”

She went back to her sniper rifle, then swept every roof. She couldn’t see Berto but knew he was there because shots were coming from the area. Satisfied no other tango was on a roof that she could see, she began to quarter the area around the marina. As she methodically checked every square yard of the town, something nagged at the back of her mind. Her neck itched and she shivered and knew goose bumps had broken out all over her body. It wasn’t the cold—she’d been beyond cold for quite a while. Something wasn’t right.

“Risto?”

“What is it, baby?”

“Something’s wrong. Not sure what. I need to check the perimeter of the roof. Now.” She peered around her dormer and found Loren’s narrowed gaze on her. He frowned then nodded. He felt it too. He mouthed “go” and indicated he was fine. She nodded and crawled toward the west corner of the house, away from Loren. When she got there, she peered around the corner to the back of the house. Some sixth sense told her to look up.

Two men were coming down the side of the crag. She hissed into her mike. “Two men rappelling into the backyard from the cliff.”

“I see them out the kitchen window.” Paul’s voice was calm. Two shots rang out and the men fell to the ground. “Two men down.”

“There could be more. Get back to Loren, baby.”

Two sharp gasps came over the headset.
Loren.
Something was wrong.

She crawled back to the front corner. “Loren, you hurting?” she called out, not bothering with the mike. “I’m coming.”

“Please do,
puta
. I have my knife at your friend’s throat.” Cruz’s voice came over the headset loud and clear. Either he hadn’t seen Loren’s cheek mike or didn’t care. The others would have heard Cruz’s words. Risto and Paul would be coming, but they might not make it in time.

She couldn’t assume Cruz didn’t have Loren’s headset, so she switched to the private channel which would take her to Risto and only Risto. Always have a Plan B, her dad had said. Risto was trained the same way and made this arrangement in case the plan went tits up. “Cruz has Loren,” she murmured into the mike. “He wants me to come to him.”

“Don’t do it. Paul and I will get onto the widow’s walk from the rear of the house.”

“Calista,” Cruz shouted. “I will kill this man if you do not appear in the next twenty seconds.” The damn Colombian sounded way too smug.

“I don’t think Loren has that long.” She flipped off her headset. She needed to calm down and plan her move. The men’s voices, Risto’s voice, wouldn’t aid that goal.

“I’m coming. Don’t hurt him.” She stood up and hoped the other bad guys would be too busy running from her guys to worry about what was happening on the widow’s walk.

Shots from Berto’s position on Earl’s diner’s roof made her smile. Her guys on the ground began to yell and shoot, making a lot of noise and confusion. All of them were harrying the bogies, giving her the room to figure out how to take out Cruz.

“I’m waiting, Calista.” His sneering voice made her skin crawl.

“Don’t come, Calista Jean!” Loren’s shout was cut off.

She clicked her headset back on and hit the variable frequency the men would have switched to when it was obvious Loren’s position and communications might have been compromised. “Berto?” she whispered. “Do you have a shot?”

“No—the
pendejo
is too close to Loren. He has his arm around Loren’s neck and a knife in his other hand, near the carotid. Only a head shot will save Loren, maybe—and I do not have that.” The “without taking off Loren’s head” also went unspoken.

“Callie, wait on us.” Risto’s voice was calm, but authoritative. That tone, she would have to tell him, only worked in the bedroom. This was her decision to make and she would make it.

“Sorry, can’t do that.” She shut her headset off on Risto’s anguished roar.

She would only have one chance. She hid her Glock along her side and walked around the corner. “I’m coming. Loren, you okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was raspy, but he was alive.

“God, this reminds me so much of when we were kids.” She rambled, hoping Cruz would take her mutterings as a sign of fear. “Remember that time I played the hostage?

Keely saved me?”

They’d used laser-guns and worn suits and headgear which would register the lethality of the hits. Keely had taken out Paul who had held Callie in a similar hold by shooting him in the forehead, the suit signaling a kill shot with a high whine.

“Yeah, you were always the hostage.” Loren choked as his voice was cut off.

“Enough talking. Come now. This man can’t afford to lose any more blood.”

“I’m almost there. I have to step over this body.” She lied, she was already at the second dormer, using it to hide her presence. She visualized Loren’s last position and imagined how Cruz might be holding him. They would be down and to her right when she came around the dormer. She would only have a split second to adjust her aim.

“I’m…” she swept around the corner, her gun in a two-handed grip, “…here.” She had guessed the two men’s positions almost perfectly. She adjusted her aim to her left and up and took the shot faster than she could even think about it. The Glock had a stronger recoil than the Ruger she was used to, but she managed to take the shot and made the adjustment to take another shot, following Cruz to the floor of the walkway.

Loren had moved to the right as soon as she had spoken and had gotten cut for his efforts to give her the best head shot. He was covered in so much blood and brain matter she wasn’t sure how badly he was hurt.

She moved to him, her gaze passing over Cruz. Since there wasn’t much left of his head after two shots, she could turn all her attention to Loren.