Rolling over onto his back was impossible in the narrow space between the two crates. Getting his M4 around was even less of an option. But he got flipped over far enough onto his side to reach for the SIG 9mm holstered on his right thigh just as a man carrying an AK-47 came into view, the barrel of the weapon already pointing at Noah’s face.
Knowing he wouldn’t have time to draw his gun, he kicked out with his right leg, catching the man in the knee with the heel of his boot as the guy pulled the trigger.
The man wailed in pain and tumbled forward, a hail of bullets hitting the crates on either side of Noah, one into the floor a mere inch from his right ear, and another into the center of his tactical vest. Even with the ceramic plate to protect him, at this range, the heavy 7.62mm round impacted with the force of a mule kick and it felt like something had stomped his chest flat.
He was still wondering if his lungs would ever work again when the man landed on top of him. Noah decided that breathing could wait.
As they fought over control of the assault rifle, Noah tried to reach down with one hand for his SIG. That nearly got his face shot off as the damn AK-47 went off twice scant inches from his head. Ears ringing like crazy, he gave up going for his pistol and instead focused on getting a hand around the still warm barrel of the man’s weapon. Getting a good grip, he slammed it into the guy’s face half a down times, breaking his nose.
He’d hoped the blows would knock the man senseless—or at least rattle him enough so that Noah could end the fight—but the asshole kept fighting. They were both kicking and punching so hard that the crates to either side almost toppled over on them. The man simply wouldn’t go down.
A vicious punch in the throat had Noah reeling back, choking and fighting once again for air. The man slammed into Noah, driving him back toward the railing overlooking the lower level, going for the SIG holstered on Noah’s thigh at the same time.
Shit.
Knowing he had about half a second before the guy put holes through all his important parts, Noah did the only thing he could. He latched onto the other man’s shoulders, dragging the guy with him as he felt himself go over the railing.
Noah twisted his body as he fell, hoping he’d be able to use the other man’s body to absorb the impact. The bad guy’s back slammed into the top of a metal shelf, but the relief was short lived as they both bounced off and started to tumble again. For a moment, Noah was sure he was going to hit the floor head first, but somehow, he landed on his feet. He had a split second to silently cheer before the man landed on his left leg. Pain spiked through the side of Noah’s knee like a red-hot poker and he immediately went down, biting his tongue to keep from screaming in agony.
Gritting his teeth, he drew his pistol and rolled over, expecting to see the guy who’d fallen on him climbing to his feet, ready to charge at him again. But one look confirmed that wasn’t going to be a problem. Somehow, the man ended up in even worse shape than Noah. He was lying on the floor unmoving, his head bent sideways at a weird angle, blood coming out of his ears and nose.
Noah winced as he clambered to his feet, forcing himself to ignore the throbbing in his leg as he stumbled through the aisle between the other shelving units, looking for the next threat.
He reached the center of the big warehouse and the long lines of tables when he realized the shooting had stopped. A few seconds later, Chasen calling out, All Clear over the radio. Noah’s earpiece immediately filled with chatter as the Interpol and Treasury agents moved in. Leaning against one of the shelves, he took the weight off his left leg and breathed in one long sigh of relief as the throbbing eased a little. The loose, floppy feeling in the knee joint was even worse than the pain. He’d torn the ligaments for sure.
The thought of what that might mean for him and his future in the SEALs made his head spin so much he almost didn’t hear Chasen asking over the radio if he was okay. It took a moment to figure out what to say.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he finally replied. “No problem at all.”
* * * * *
Agent Woods didn’t even try to hide how excited he was as he moved around the long row of tables, going through all the crap they’d confiscated in the raid. Noah had to admit, he was pretty stoked as well. While the boxes stuffed with knock-off Air Jordans, Jimmy Choo heels, and Hermes handbags were one thing, it was the computer servers full of bootlegs books and music that was where the real money was at.
“Combine this stuff with what the other teams took in around the world tonight and in one fell swoop, we’ve yanked a billion dollar’s worth of funding out of terrorist hands,” Wood said. “This is going to bring their current operations to its knees.”
“I’d be a lot happier if one of the teams managed to capture Magpie,” Chasen muttered, brushing Noah’s shoulder slightly as he stepped between him and Wes to stand near the table. His blue eyes narrowed. “With him still around, they’ll almost certainly find a way to recoup their losses. Probably a lot sooner than we’d like.”
Noah would have agreed
