Free Shadow Ops: Danger's Desire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 1) by LS Silverii

Hollywood cracked open the box.
    “Not bad,” he said. He held the Remington 700 in both hands and visually inspected the barrel, bolt, and stock. “No bi-pod?”
    “Nope, looks like you gotta steady her on your own knee.” Stone snaked his way through the overgrown grass and onto a wooden bench.
    The base model was reinforced for rugged field use. He brushed dust away from the aircraft-grade aluminum bedding block. Hollywood computed the math in his head. This shot would be tough—maybe his most difficult.
    “Where’s the scope?” Hollywood knelt next to the plastic case. He pulled up the foam inserts and searched.
    “Open sights only—never know when your optics might go out,” T-Boy said, apologetically. Over his shoulder, Cranston Stone bellowed from the wooden stool. Hollywood vowed to kill that man.
    “Can I at least know the wind?” Hollywood began to feel the crush. Not only was his life at risk, but he was literally taking Voodoo’s life into his own hands. One mistake and she was dead.
    “Ten miles per, south by southwest,” Cranston said. “I think.” He grinned with tobacco leaves jutting between empty spaces where teeth had once been.
    “Think, Hollywood,” he whispered to make himself focus. Twenty-six inch barrel, nine pound .308 caliber rifle with a twelve-inch standard twist. Over a half a mile—zero point five-hundred and sixty-eight thousandths of a mile to be exact. Freaking wind at 10 miles per. Drift’s gonna be one hundred and seven inches while the damn drop’s gonna play out at three-hundred and sixteen inches. You can do this—you got no choice, he thought.
    “You finished praying, boy? You gonna need it.” Stone threw an empty casing at him.
    Hollywood ignored him. He squinted downrange to spot the dot that had become Voodoo. He forced his heartbeat to settle—no way would he make the shot with a chest that heaved with dread. He ripped the bolt action to field inspect the weapon and slammed it shut to prevent more debris from gumming up the trigger action.
    “How about a practice round?”
    “Cold bore.”
    Doubt crept inside him. “The paid job doesn’t require this. Why now?”
    “Because I don’t trust you.”
    Hollywood looked back from his prone position. “I get a cartridge?”
    “One. Turn that barrel off range and these boys will fill you with more holes than Bonnie and Clyde.”
    Hollywood dropped his face into the dirt—less than twelve hours earlier he’d been naked in Bonny and Voodoo’s condo. He spit a piece of grass between his smile. Exhaled, and thought about how glad he was for the time connecting with her. It had been more than a fuck—he knew that now.
    A thin metal object struck him on the back of his cap and bounced into the soft earth. The bullet’s casing faced up, so he was able to retrieve the single round of ammo and wipe it off on his pants. He patted his left eye to distill the floaters that danced over his pupil. He’d not slept in the last three days and other than a possible torn retina, he was flat exhausted.
    “What’s taking so long?” cracked the voice over the cheap walkie talkie.
    “I think he’s scared,” someone replied.
    “Tell him to come on. I got this wire wrapped tight around her neck. Shit, she might survive the shot but die from strangulation.”
    The transmission was garbled but Hollywood heard it. He glared at the other guard. “She better be alive after I nail this shot.”
    He zoned out on their silly noise distractions, looked the distance of ten football fields end-to-end and saw her. She was limp, but moving on occasion—probably to threaten the guards. Baby, just stand still, I’m coming, he willed her.
    Suddenly, silence befell everyone. They were as curious about his shot placement as he was. He’d been great in the past, but could he be great again?
    Hollywood’s breathing pounded a thumping sound in his ears. The wind licked the left side of his body. Saw grass tickled his shins where his