When she’d come to TCD, she’d needed a refresher in fieldwork. Right now, as the only agent not hunkered down in the SUV, it didn’t feel like even close to enough.
She had no backup out here. Not unless one of the other agents could get clear long enough to rush through the shot-to-pieces windshield. And that was a death wish only one agent was likely to try.
Thinking of Kane made Melinda move faster. She sucked in her breath and turned her head sideways, shoving herself the rest of the way through the SUV’s open door. The helmet barely cleared, but she felt Kane’s fingers peel away. Her shirt tore, but she kept going, worming her way toward the rear of the vehicle and praying the whole thing didn’t crash down on top of her.
Her submachine gun wouldn’t have been an easy fit through the door, so she’d left it in the SUV. Right now, she longed for the comforting feel of the big gun. Sucking in dirt and dust, Melinda angled her pistol awkwardly, praying no one saw her before she was ready. Body armor and a helmet wouldn’t be enough if they saw her while she was still trying to squeeze out of here.
When she’d realized the SUV wasn’t flat on the ground, that the back door would open just enough, she’d known what she had to do. Yes, the agents inside had covered themselves well with strong ballistic shields. But eventually, the BECA members would either get lucky or simply force their way inside. With no option of retreat, her teammates would be in serious trouble. Especially if the BECA members had other weapons, like grenades—which wouldn’t surprise her.
The thought put a heavy weight on her chest, like the SUV really had sunk down on her. She was the agent least prepared for this. But failure meant they would probably all die here today.
She’d get one chance. One chance to take out as many of them as possible, provide a distraction that would give her team time to rush through the front windshield. If she did this right, together, they could eliminate the threat.
Boots came into view and Melinda froze, afraid to even breathe. Then, another pair joined them, and another.
She was trapped. No way to slip out from underneath the vehicle, dart behind the cover of trees like she’d planned. If she fired from here, they’d know exactly where she was, be able to hit her while she had limited visibility and few ways out.
“Climb up,” one of them whispered. “You two hit them from the side, and we’ll hit them from the back. Tell Don to stand near the front and pick off anyone who tries to escape that way.”
Melinda’s gut clenched, her breathing came faster, and her vision and hearing narrowed. Tunnel vision. Knowing it was happening—that her fear was overriding her senses—didn’t make it easier to fix.
BECA had a good plan. The agents inside were still firing periodically, but only out the front windshield. A distraction, hoping to give her a chance. Not knowing what she’d planned to do, since she hadn’t told them, since she hadn’t fully known when she’d slipped out that door.
She was a pretty good shot. But there were at least four BECA members near the side and back of the vehicle, at least one up front. Even if she could hit the four closest to her, she had an angle only on their feet and calves. Enough to bring them to the ground, sure, but to take them out of the fight entirely? Unlikely.
All that mattered was taking them down long enough for the other agents to get out the front, not getting shot herself before she could yell a warning about Don’s position.
If she was going to die today, she prayed she’d be able to do it giving the rest of her team a fighting chance.
Not daring to move her hand up to touch the ring dangling under her T-shirt, she focused on the feel of it. The simple gold band she’d picked out for her late husband. It always gave her strength. Thinking of it made her breathing even out, her senses sharpen.
Just as one of the BECA members started to clamber up the side of the SUV to get a shot through the window, Melinda lined up her first shot. Then, she said one more prayer, fired two shots in rapid succession. Someone—maybe two someones—dropped to the ground, screaming in pain, but moving around. Probably aiming their own weapons, a new target in sight now that they were lying in the dirt.
Melinda didn’t waste time. She screamed a warning to her team as she pivoted toward the side of the SUV, toward the guy dropping off the vehicle, making it bounce up and down, too close to her. Then more shots joined her own and Melinda kept firing, wondering if the adrenaline was preventing her from feeling the bullets that had to be hitting her by now.
The two guys on the side of the SUV both dropped, and Melinda hit them again, not waiting to see if they were dead before she swiveled once more toward the two she’d hit first. The two who had to be recovered enough to shoot her fatally by now.
But as she turned, a new pair of boots slammed down to the ground and someone else fired, taking out those BECA members. One of them had his gun up, pointed directly at her head, and Melinda squeezed her eyes shut, expecting it to fire anyway. But instead of a bullet, she felt a hand on her leg.
She jerked, opened her eyes. And there was Kane, kneeling down, pulling her out from under the SUV.
“Nice job,” Evan told her as he ran around from the
