Hunt’s eyes had turned murderous. “Careful, Hector.”
Suddenly, the pain was gone, leaving behind exhaustion and numbness. His left arm buckled, and Hector slowly slid to the ground, panting.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry. This . . . should have never happened.”
“No, it shouldn’t have,” Hunt confirmed. The last thing Hector saw was a flash of light. He never felt the first bullet enter just below his nose, or the second one, which pierced his heart.
Hunt scanned his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t being flanked. He caught a glimpse of Egan, who had taken position behind what was left of the Land Cruiser. Dante was in a prone position next to Leila. Hunt rushed to Egan’s side just as bullets pinged off the metal behind him. Egan returned fire with his MP5.
“I’m down to one mag,” Egan told him, firing a couple of shots. Then he added, “I had to keep their heads down while you were having your little chat with Hector.”
Hunt gave Egan one of his magazines. “We need to haul ass, Cole. Abigail will pick us up, but we need to take these two bozos out.”
“Agreed,” Egan said. “But these guys aren’t dumb. They know how to shoot, and the angle is all wrong from here. I can’t hit anything.”
“But you can keep their heads down, right?”
Egan frowned. “What are you thinking?”
“Change your mag.”
Egan obeyed and inserted the magazine Hunt had given him into his MP5.
“On three, you pin them down with a full mag. Copy?”
Egan nodded, and Hunt counted, “One, two, three.”
Egan inched out of cover and sent rounds toward the Range Rover at a rapid rate. Hunt waited until Egan had fired a dozen rounds before he sprinted the sixty feet of open ground separating him from the front door. He reached the front door just as Egan fired his last round. Hunt moved inside and to the west side of the house. He hunched over, keeping low to the floor to stay below the windows. There were no blinds on the windows, so Hunt was extra vigilant when he peeked outside, leaving only a tiny part of his head exposed.
From there, he had a nice angle on the two cartel members. Since Egan had returned to his normal rate of fire—one round every ten or fifteen seconds—the two men were taking more chances and were swapping turns at risking a lucky shot. Hunt didn’t dare open the window to engage his targets, so he moved his MP5’s firing selector from single shot to three-round bursts. He aligned his sights on where he thought the closest man would appear—at the front of the Range Rover, just over the engine block. Hunt estimated the distance at two hundred feet. Not impossible, but not an easy shot either, especially as he had to shoot through a window. Hunt would have only one chance to hit his target. If he missed, his target would know exactly where Hunt had fired from, and he would lose the element of surprise.
There! The man appeared, just right of where Hunt had bet he’d be. Hunt adjusted his aim and slowly pulled the trigger. His three-round burst shattered the window, showering the porch with broken glass. Hunt’s target was hit, and he fell forward, out of cover. He tried to get up but only managed to get on one knee before falling again. Hunt was about to send him the gift of another three-round burst, but remembered what Egan had told him.
These guys aren’t dumb. They know how to shoot. Maybe they were ex-military, like their dead boss Hector? If so, the man’s partner would try to bring him back to safety. And three seconds later, that’s exactly what happened.
The second man fired two long bursts toward Egan and then stepped out of cover to help his fallen comrade. Hunt was ready, and he didn’t miss. His three-round burst punched holes in the man’s chest, and he pitched backward. Hunt fired an extra burst into each body to make sure they would pose no further threat.
Hunt hurried outside. Egan was already next to Carter. He saw Abigail’s SUV racing down the driveway and assumed either Egan or Dante had called her in. Leila ran to him, jumped up—almost knocking him over—and wrapped her arms around his neck. His daughter buried her face in his neck, and he felt her warm tears. His own eyes welled up. His mind whirled. So much had happened in the past two days. Hunt was exhausted, but he was afraid to move, unwilling to break the spell; but a second later, she did.
“We need to get Sophia, Dad,” Leila said. “She’s in a big house.”
“I know where she is,” Hunt said, letting his daughter down. “I’ll get her.”
Egan called out for him. “Pierce, get over here.”
Carter had regained consciousness, but he was in pain. Dante gave him a shot of morphine from the trauma kit in Abigail’s car. Abigail whispered in Hunt’s ear, “He can’t feel his legs.”
Oh shit.
Hunt knelt next to Carter and took the man’s hand. “You saved my life, Simon,” he said, his voice breaking. “I . . . I . . .”
Carter smiled. “It’s okay, brother. I’ll be fine. Don’t get that choked up.”