Free In Her Sights by Robin Perini Page B

Sarge. She recognized the SUV immediately. Luke.
    “Great. Just what we need. Michaels, set up a perimeter. Keep the press away from here.”
    A couple of uniforms manned their positions, and even from her vantage she recognized Luke arguing with them. His tall, muscular frame towered over the men. He was a lethal weapon. He could’ve thrown the cops aside with a few quick moves, but he didn’t. She shook her head to regain her focus. He wasn’t here because of her. He was here because of the story.
    “Secure, sir.” Michaels’ voice crackled through the intercom.
    “Let’s make it happen, children.”
    The team deployed, following Sarge’s attack plan. They were good. Gabe and his entry team moved into position to storm the building; the perimeter guards strategically positioned themselves to shoot tear gas or lob a flashbang into the farmhouse. She prayed they wouldn’t need either distraction. She didn’t want to have to take another shot. Some snipers went years without neutralizing a target. Jazz had taken down more than her share.
    As the team moved in perfect precision around the farmhouse, she surveyed the movements from above. It was like watching a ballet. Pure art.
    The negotiator’s calming voice as he tried to talk the gangbangers down echoed through her earpiece.
    “Get the pigs out of here, or the woman’s dead. I ain’t kidding!”
    The kid was strung out. That made him dangerous. Jazz caught a rustle in the window visible from her vantage point.
    “Movement at the window, Blue Leader.”
    “Hold position, Blue One.”
    A shot fired inside the house. The window shattered. One of the gang members—he looked to be almost thirty—brandished his weapon. Jazz stared through her scope. The perp’s eyes were wild, his pupils dilated, and his hand was shaking around the butt of the gun. He dragged the woman out of the corner, shoving her husband to the floor. Not good.
    “Adult female. Guy’s got a .357, Blue Leader. Itchy trigger finger. He looks strung out.”
    The guy whispered something into the woman’s ear. She tried to shake her head, and he dragged the barrel down her cheek. “Gun moved. He’s got the barrel under her jaw.”
    A sharp curse echoed through the microphone. “Look for a shot, Blue One. We may have to move in. Get ready, but watch that weapon.”
    Blocking out the woman’s tears and fear, Jazz lasered her focus on the kidnapper through the scope. She needed that shot. Her muscles tensed, waiting for his mistake.
    The perp didn’t disappoint.
    “Blue One to Blue Leader. Subject One is not moving. I can eliminate him, but Subject Two is three meters to the east. Too high of a risk to take them both.”
    Silence bellowed through her earpiece until Sarge’s voice cut through the quiet.
    “We have a go, people. We’ll take out Subject Two once we’re in. Make the timing work. Blue One, you terminate Subject One. I want a flashbang at the same moment as the entry team batters the door. Eliminate Subject Two. Everyone got it?”
    The team members checked in. Jazz breathed in and out slowly, focusing, waiting for the order. Once she downed Subject One, the woman would be in less danger, and the team could safely restrain Subject Two. The strategy would work if he’d just stay in her sights. Don’t move, don’t move.
    “Stand by, Blue One.” Sarge’s voice had gone clipped and tense.
    “Ready, Blue Leader.” Jazz willed the man not to blow the woman’s head apart before she received her orders.
    She heard a slow inhale over the microphone. “Fire.”
    Jazz exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The flashbang exploded. The entry team burst in.
    Her target didn’t drop.
    She went numb. Impossible. He should’ve gone down.
    One second lasted forever. When the team realized the plan had gone south, curses erupted in her ear.
    “Move, move, move. Get that woman safe.”
    All hell broke loose, and Jazz could do nothing but watch the green-tinted images through her scope.