Sharpshooter by Cynthia Eden

  I will shoot him. Yes, she’d just bet that he’d shot plenty of men in his time.

  “Please!” The broken cry came from the hostage. “Help me!”

  “We will,” Sydney promised him, but she wasn’t dropping her gun yet.

  Only...a weapon did hit the ground. She turned at the thud. Gunner had tossed away his gun. His hands were up. What was he doing? Surrender wasn’t the way the team operated.

  “Sydney?” It was Cale’s voice in her ear. If she could hear him, Gunner could, too. They were all on the same comm link. “We’re coming for you.”

  But would he come soon enough?

  Gunner walked forward, putting his body before her. Sydney didn’t know if he was protecting her or blocking her shot, but either way, the result was the same.

  “No dispare,” Gunner said, voice loud and carrying easily. With the transmitter so close to his mouth, Cale would hear every word and understand exactly what was happening to them. “Puede tener tres rehenes en lugar de dos.”

  Don’t shoot. You can have three hostages instead of two.

  That was a terrible plan.

  But then she felt the cold metal of a gun being shoved against the base of her neck.

  It looked as though it was their only plan, for the moment.

  Sydney let her weapon drop, and she lifted her hands in surrender.

  Cale, hurry up, she thought.

  Because she wasn’t sure how much time they had.

  * * *

  HE’D MADE A deadly mistake.

  Gunner sat in the old chair, his hands tied behind him, his ankles lashed to the wooden chair legs. A heavy black sack covered his head. When he strained his eyes, he could just make out a form across from him. The shadowy outline of— “Sydney?” he rasped.

  “Yes.”

  He’d been distracted by her in the jungle. Too aware of her every move. He should have been on the lookout for the enemy, but they’d gotten the drop on him.

  On Sydney. As if they were both rookies.

  Now the hostage was gone, taken to another tent, and he and Sydney were about to be interrogated.

  The last time he’d been interrogated in a South American jungle, he’d had to spend six hours getting enough stitches to close all of the wounds in his body.

  Those stitches had been given to him by a relief worker on the edge of a river. There’d been no anesthesia. He’d roared at the pain.

  And called Sydney’s name.

  Something he’d never told her. What would have been the point?

  “It was his voice,” Gunner growled as he yanked against his bonds. “You know it was him.” There were guards right outside their tent. Guards who’d foolishly thought that they’d taken all of his weapons.

  Not that Gunner needed a weapon to kill. He was very good with his hands.

  As his last interrogators had discovered.

  “I—I can’t remember his voice.” Her words were soft. Sad. “It’s been too long for me, Gunner.”

  He stilled. That had been his brother’s voice, hadn’t it? Because if it hadn’t, then he’d dropped his gun for no damn reason.

  I could have taken them out. But he wouldn’t have been able to do it without hurting the hostage. If that had been his brother, then Slade had already been hurt enough. Gunner wasn’t going to add to the man’s pain.

  Gunner cleared his throat. “Are you bound?”

  “Tied like a pig, with a sack over my head.”

  He’d thought so, but they’d been separated on the way to the camp. Then he hadn’t heard her voice for a while, and he’d...worried. “We’re gonna get out of here.” His comm transmitter was gone. Taken and smashed in the jungle, just as hers had been.

  But this camp wasn’t in the location that they’d been told of. Either Logan had been given bad intel or the group had a second and, from the sound of things, much larger base. Because they’d walked east. Been dumped into the back of a vehicle, and they’d zigged and zagged through the jungle before they’d stopped.

  Good thing he and Sydney were both equipped with a special GPS locator, courtesy of Uncle Sam. They both had trackers inserted just beneath their skin. Cale and Logan would be able to find them; it was just a matter of time.

  “We’ll get out of here,” Gunner told her as he twisted his wrists. The ropes were rough, and he could feel them tearing into his skin. So what if he got cut? The blood would just make it easier for him to break loose.

  Then he heard voices outside. The group leader’s voice—that would be the one who’d come for them in the jungle. The one who’d held the hostage and laughed as he stared into Gunner’s eyes.

  “Sounds like the fun is about to start,” Sydney said. There was no fear in her voice. She could have been terrified, and he wouldn’t have known. She was in her mission mode now.

  “We’ll get out of here.” He needed her to understand that.

  He heard the rustle of the tent’s opening. Footsteps came closer. He listened carefully and counted the tread of those footsteps...two men.

  One man went to stand behind him.

  The other— “You shouldn’t have come into my jungle.” Heavily accented English, and Gunner knew it was the leader. The guy was standing right in front of him. He could make out the outline of the man’s body through the fabric of the sack that covered him.

  He could see the guy’s body and see the weapon that the man lifted and pointed toward Sydney. “Coming here was a terrible mistake for you both.”

  “Stop!” Gunner barked, heart racing.

  Laughter. Low. Sinister. From the man with the gun. The rebel behind Gunner didn’t make a sound.

  Rebels...what cause were they fighting for? As far as he could tell, Logan thought this group was little more than drug runners. Weapons dealers.

  “I am not going to shoot the señorita yet. Not just yet.” But he still had the weapon near her head. “First, you talk, sí? You tell me all about your team. About the men who think they can come into my jungle and take what is mine.”

  The rope cut deeper into Gunner’s wrists. “There is no team. Just us.”

  Silence. Then, “I can start by shooting her in the knee, if you want.”

  “There is no team!” Sydney snapped at him.

  But Gunner didn’t speak. The man’s words were replaying in his head. “I can start by shooting her in the knee.”

  “You both wore...what are they? Ah...transmitters of some sort. That means you were talking to someone else.”

  “There is no team,” Gunner said woodenly, because that was the response he had to give. When the enemy caught you, you didn’t turn. You didn’t reveal your intel, and you didn’t jeopardize the others still out in the field.

  “So sad.” Now the man’s voice had deepened. Behind him, Gunner heard the other rebel shifting from foot to foot. “He must not care for you at all, señorita.”

  Gunner yanked on the ropes. They weren’t giving. Not yet.

  “I don’t like hurting women. It’s not in my nature, but...” A regretful sigh drifted in the air. “If I do not learn what I must know, there will be no choice for me.”

  “Let her go!” Gunner demanded as fury swirled inside him. “That’s the only choice you need to make.”

  “No, I need to know about your team. About your...EOD.”

  Gunner’s mind whirled. The rebel—no way should he have known about the Elite Ops Division. They were off the books for a reason.

  Classified cases. Classified kills.

  “How many EOD agents are in Peru?”

  “I don’t know what the EOD is,” Gunner told him.

  A growl broke from the man behind him, and Gunner felt the blade of a knife slice through the sack and press right against his throat.

  “Ah...I’m afraid my companion is more impatient than I am.”

  The companion...he’d moved quickly but wasn’t getting a reprimand of any sort by the guy Gunner had pegged as the leader. Unusual. Very unusual. Leaders did
n’t usually like it when someone jumped the gun.

  Maybe he isn’t the leader.

  Maybe the real leader was the man getting ready to slice open his throat.

  The man with the knife hadn’t said a word, but the other guy kept talking, throwing out, “Her life doesn’t matter to you, but what about your own? Care to tell us about the EOD...now?”

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about!” The angry words came from Sydney. “We can’t tell you when we don’t know!”

  Sydney had been trained not to break, too. They’d both learned how to hold out against torture.

  But would he really be able to sit there, while Syndey was hurting? If he heard Sydney in pain, Gunner was afraid that his control would shatter.

  The ropes began to give way even as the knife blade pressed deeper into his skin.

  “We have intel...that is what you call it, sí? We have intel of our own, and we know who you both are. We lured you to us because we have...interests...who are after the EOD.”

  Interests? Would that be the same interested party who had sent out hits on the EOD agents in the U.S. a while back?

  “You cannot tell, señorita, but your friend’s throat is bleeding. There’s a knife against his jugular, and if I don’t learn what I must know, then I will tell my associate to kill him.”

  Gunner heard the sound of Sydney’s sharply indrawn breath. Then... “Gunner?”

  “It’s a scratch,” he told her, keeping his voice flat. “I do worse than this when I shave in the morning.”

  The knife pressed harder.

  Gunner laughed. “You think this is torture? You boys need to up your game.”

  “Perhaps we will,” the man said, voice snarling. “But I do not think that we need to keep both of you. We already have one hostage, why keep two more?”

  Hell. He’d been afraid of this.

  Logan and Cale need to hurry the hell up.

  “So, which will we eliminate? The lovely lady or the man who thinks he can laugh at death?”

  Gunner knew exactly what choice they needed to make. So he laughed again, mocking them, wanting to draw their attention and do anything necessary to ensure Sydney’s survival. “You aren’t killing us. You’re all talk and—”

  Blood slid down his neck.

  “—and when I get out of here,” Gunner continued, voice roughening, “you’ll be the ones to die.” The words were a promise. “So, what you need to be doing is running, while you still can.”

  Was the gun still pressed to Sydney’s head? He hoped not. He wanted that gun—and the attention of the two men—focused just on him.

  He’d buy Sydney as much survival time as he could. Cale and Logan would come, sooner or later. She just had to live until then.

  My fault. I dropped my guard in the jungle. I got distracted by her. She won’t be dying for my mistake.

  “Who is your hostage?” Sydney’s voice came, louder and sharper than he’d expected. She should have stayed quiet. Didn’t she realize what he was trying to do?

  “You come into my jungle,” their captor said, “trying to rescue a man you don’t even know?”

  “It’s my job,” Sydney snapped.

  “You shouldn’t have done this job. You should have just left him to die.” There was the rustle of clothing, and Gunner saw the shadow of their captor’s body shift. He thought the man was coming toward him, but—no. He heard the man step closer to Sydney.

  And the knife was suddenly gone from Gunner’s throat. The guard’s footsteps shuffled behind Gunner as the man moved back.

  They were told, “It’s time to lose a hostage. Do you want a moment to say your goodbyes?”

  Both men were near Sydney now. He could see the dark outlines of their bodies through his mask. “Don’t you even think of killing her!”

  “As if you could stop us...”

  “It’s all right, Gunner,” Sydney said at the same time. “It’s all right.”

  No, it wasn’t. They should be turning their attention on him. Not her. “What kind of coward holds a woman prisoner like this?”

  The men didn’t speak.

  Sydney did. “Gunner, can you close your eyes?”

  Because she must have on a covering just like his. She’d be able to see a little bit, just as he could. And Sydney didn’t want him seeing her die.

  “Yes,” he said, even as he kept his eyes wide open. This wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t let it happen. Not to her.

  He yanked on the rope that bound his wrists. Felt it give way. Just. In. Time.

  “Thank you,” Sydney said softly. “And, Gunner, I—”

  An explosion rocked the tent, and Gunner’s chair fell to the side. He yanked out with his hands, shattering the chair legs and pulling free from the ropes that bound his legs.

  Voices were crying out. Yelling. And more explosions—they sounded like thunder, but he could feel the heat from the blasts—blasted through the camp. Footsteps pounded out of the room. More shouts.

  More fire. He could smell the acrid scent.

  “Sydney!”

  He yanked the sack off his head and rushed to her. She’d fallen back, too, and, at first, he didn’t think she was moving at all. Had they killed her before the explosion? Had that sick jerk with the knife hurt her?

  But then she groaned, and he saw her hands come up. She’d worked her wrists free, too. Of course she had. That was his Sydney.

  He clawed away the ropes that bound her feet and jerked that sack from over her eyes. With his breath heaving, he stared down at her, desperately looking for blood.

  Her eyes were wide and bright. As always, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to kiss her so badly that he ached.

  Slade’s alive.

  He swallowed and pulled Sydney to her feet. “What the hell were you doing?” Gunner demanded. “I wanted their attention on me.”

  She blinked, and some of the brightness seemed to leave her gaze. “Sorry, I was just doing my part to keep you breathing.” She bent down and picked up a sharp chunk of wood, one of the remnants from her chair’s legs. “You’re welcome.”

  His hold on her left wrist tightened. “Next time, try to keep yourself alive instead.” Because to him, she was the priority.

  Gunfire burst out into the night then, firing with a rat-a-tat that was too familiar to him. “Our backup is here.” Just in time. He’d have to thank Cale and Logan with a round of beer later.

  After they all got out of that jungle.

  First order of business...get better weapons. That wood of Sydney’s wouldn’t last long. They’d get weapons, then hurry out there to provide support to the other EOD agents.

  Moving like shadows, he and Sydney slid to the front of their tent. Their guards were gone. From what Gunner could see, chaos had taken over the camp. Men were running everywhere, shooting wildly.

  Cale wouldn’t be positioned close, and those shots being fired so wildly from the rebels wouldn’t hit him. The guy was a sniper, too. Not ex-SEAL like Gunner, but a Ranger sniper who’d survived some of the deadliest places on earth.

  Cale’s shots were deliberate, timed perfectly. Gunner realized that the explosions had been his handiwork, too. Cale knew far too much about demolitions.

  Gunner scanned the area and found his target. Fifteen feet away. The man who was holding up his gun and staring into the jungle, not even glancing around to cover his back.

  “I’ve got you,” Sydney said. “Go ahead.”

  She’d be covering Gunner’s back. He knew he could count on her.

  He might be a sniper, but he could still handle up close combat just fine. He’d learned those fighting techniques long before he’d let Uncle Sam talk him into being all he could be.

  Gunner rushed silently forward. His target never had a chance to fight him, much less to fire his weapon. Gunner swiped out with his hands, an attack designed to take out his opponent, and before the man’s body fell, Gunner had the fellow’s gun in hi
s hand.

  One weapon down.

  He looked up, saw that Sydney was close. She gave him a grim nod.

  Just then one of the guards ran out of another tent, screaming and aiming his gun at her head.

  No. Gunner lifted his gun instantly. Sydney must have read the danger in his eyes because she dropped to the ground, giving him the perfect shot.

  But as he fired, another blast thundered.

  Two bullets hit the guard, stopping his attack.

  Cale? Probably. The other sniper was doing his job and making sure they got out of there alive.

  Sydney didn’t stand. Instead, she crawled quickly toward the downed man and took his weapon.

  Now that they were both better armed, it was time to search. Because they weren’t running out of that camp, weren’t fleeing. They’d come there for a reason.

  Find the hostage. They’d complete their mission.

  We’re coming, Slade.

  Most of the rebels were fleeing. Some jumped into old trucks; others just ran into the jungle. The explosions had scared them. It looked as though they weren’t quite up for trading their lives for their cause.

  The more of them that left, well, the easier the EOD’s mission became. He and Sydney searched the tents, one after the other. Deserted. Burning. No sign of Slade.

  But he had to be there.

  Or...maybe he was close by. Just through the patch of jungle on the right, Gunner could see the outline of old stones. Big, sprawling, the structure looked like some kind of deserted temple.

  Sydney was already nodding, because she’d spotted the structure, too. Gunfire erupted behind Gunner, and he turned, firing back. “Go!” he ordered Sydney. If Slade was out there, they had to get to him. He could be hurt, dying...

  Gunner saw Logan appear, and the team leader joined the firefight. Sydney rushed toward the temple.

  The bullets kept coming. A lucky shot grazed Gunner’s left arm, and he clenched his teeth at the flash of pain.

  Then he took aim at the men coming for him.

  Chapter Four

  Sydney’s heartbeat echoed in her ears as she ran toward the narrow entrance to what she could only guess was some kind of crumbling temple. Giant slabs of white rock were turned, forming the sloping entrance. But...there was light coming from inside that temple. And where there was light...