Free Storm Warning (Security Specialists International Book 4) by Monette Michaels Page A

Stuart didn’t seem right either, but it was better than a cartoon character name.
    The crunch of snow indicated movement on the ground.
    “They’re on the move.” DJ angled herself so she had a view of the front corner of the gas station. Since she had no wall to hide behind, she had to be careful not to skyline herself.
    “Ready.” The response was so soft and low it could’ve been either Callie or Keely speaking.
    The first man around the corner led with his rifle. He moved along the front of the gas station. Just before she was about to lose sight of him, one shot rang out. He was down, hit in the hip.
    “He’s down. Still armed and dangerous,” DJ said. “Good shot.”
    “Thanks. I love Keely’s Lapua. I’ll keep him and the others pinned down,” Callie said. “They’re not leaving this parking lot.” Two shots rang out. “Took off some brick, right above another guy’s head. Just keeping them honest.” She sounded amused.
    It wasn’t a surprise that no one else attempted to come around the front corner.
    DJ strained to hear the men’s conversation, but the wind had whipped around and was now blowing snow and sound in the other direction. But they only had one move—
    “They’ll head around back,” DJ muttered just as Keely said, “I’ll cover the back.”
    Keely laughed. “It’s their only other choice with Callie covering the front so well.”
    “Exactly.” DJ belly-crawled toward the back of the gas station roof and positioned herself so she had a view of the back corner.
    “I’m in position,” Keely said. “Be prepared for anything. They’re stranded and desperate.”
    “In place.” DJ muttered, “Let’s hope they make stupid moves and make it easier for us to take them down.”
    “I love mean women,” Vanko muttered.
    DJ heard Keely’s brother snort and mutter, “Yeah. I practically raised one of them.”
    “You did good, big brother,” Keely replied.
    There was a lot of affection in the siblings’ voices. A pang of envy cut through DJ like a knife. Her brothers despised her and would pimp her out in an instant.
    “DJ…”
    Head in the now, Dahlia Jane.
    “…don’t make your move until at least one more of them is down,” Keely said. “Then you can get off the roof to cover the others.”
    “Am I that easy to read?” DJ asked.
    “It’s what I’d want to do,” Keely said. “I frick-fracking hate waiting around, especially in the snow and the cold.”
    “But I’d beat your sweet ass if you did, sprite. DJ…” This was a new male voice. His tone was rougher, more of a low growl. “Wait for Tweeter and Vanko to arrive. Let them handle it.”
    “Ren…” Keely spoke.
    DJ cut her off. “No time. They’re on the move again. I hear them.” She placed her eye on her scope and zeroed in on the corner of the building about where an average height man’s hip would be. “They’ll shoot at the chopper. Why take that chance? Keep the Hawk back until we secure the scene.”
    Just as she finished countermanding her boss’s order —I am so fired —the barrel of a gun peeked around the corner.
    “Wait for it,” whispered DJ.
    “Oh heck yeah,” Keely muttered back.
    When no shots rang out, the gun’s owner followed.
    DJ aimed lower, going for the man’s legs. Just as she took her shot, Keely’s rang out from behind her. Both shots hit—hers in a thigh; Keely’s low on the man’s torso as he went down.
    “Another one down.” Keely’s voice was eerily atonal. There wasn’t even a hint of emotion to indicate she’d just shot a man. “Two more to go.”
    Another shot rang out from the front of the building. It was the Lapua. “Nicked one on the arm. He’s still mobile. Sorry, girls,” Callie said.
    “No worries,” said DJ. “Once I get off this roof, consider the rest of the assholes immobilized.”
    She chanced a bigger look over the edge of the roof, exposing her upper torso for a few seconds. No one shot at her, so she took her time and