Page 34 of Asher

While the others loaded their gear, rifles, and dispersed to their assigned locations, Asher slung his gear bag over his shoulder, the rifle over his other, and followed Alex under the net. They were nearly crawling on their bellies; the net was that low. Wyatt took the rear, protecting their rearward as they followed the yellow dots that led to the mansion wall straight ahead. Once there, they ducked under the net and stopped, their backs to the cool stone.

“How do you want to do this, Boss?” Wyatt asked. “Sneak in the back door like servants or march in the front like the conquering heroes we are?”

Alex grunted. “Waiting on Mark to—”

No sooner said when rapid fire sounded from the silencer attached to an M27 in the distance. Quiet shots, not silent, but loud enough to sound an alarm. At nearly the same time, Tripp reported, “Rear entrance secure.” So much for those guards sounding alarms.

Mark followed with, “Heston located movement upstairs in the room with a view. Be careful. If it’s Jamah, there are shadows moving up there with him. Smells like a trap to me.”

“Copy that,” Alex answered, shifting his rifle strap to his left shoulder, freeing both hands for his SIG pistols. Both military issue and both sporting high-capacity, double-stack magazines, he nodded toward the front of the mansion. “Follow me.”

Like Asher would do anything else? With Wyatt at his side, he activated his helmet cam and light and followed his boss. Proficiently and without hesitation, Alex kicked in the front door and immediately shot the armed guard running at him. The guard behind the first screamed something about dying forAllah, so Asher obliged him, and sent him straight into the land of milk and honey. Or, in that bastard’s case, back into hell. Satan’s accomplices, all of them.

Alex roared into the massive entryway, where the first guard he’d killed was now sprawled on the floor. Wyatt took the hall to their right. Asher took the left. Only two doors, both on the same side of the hall. With extreme caution, he kicked in the first and encountered two armed guards looking up in surprise. The place stunk of foul body odor and something rank he didn’t want to identify. They hesitated. He didn’t. When they fell, their weapons went wild and lead sprayed the ceiling.

Onto door number two. When it yielded nothing and no one, he advised the sniper buddies covering his ass from somewhere outside, “Exiting right hall on the south side. Please don’t shoot me.” Friendly fire was real. He needed Heston and Mark to know precisely where he was.

“Yup, gotcha in my sights,” Heston replied. “Wyatt’s in deep shit though. Four against one. You might want to—”

Gunshots roared from the opposite hallway. Asher rammed a new magazine home and ran to assist. Wyatt was on his back behind a heavy metal desk in the second open doorway, taking some serious heat from four assailants in the crowded room. Asher took two out without blinking, giving Wyatt breathing room to finish the last two.

He swiped the back of his hand over his forehead as he climbed to his feet. “Thanks for the assist.”

Asher shrugged it off. “Thank Heston. I just go where I’m sent.”

“Nothing like having snipers on overwatch in a firefight,” Wyatt huffed, obviously stressed.

“Later,” Asher answered, nodding toward the barrage of gunfire coming from Alex’s last known position.

Together they caught up with their boss, but what a sight. Asher lifted his pistol to intercede, but Alex didn’t need help. He’d danced these steps before. Swiftly and without missing a step. Direct hit every time. It was uncanny how easily and quickly he switched from firing with his right hand, to firing with his left, sometimes firing both SIGs at the same time. The man seemed to know where his targets were without looking for them or at them. His reaction time was incredible—for an older guy.

Asher took out the lone shooter who dashed out of a closet, firing wildly. Then nailed the robed behemoth who came out of nowhere with a freaking sword. Honestly, what kind of idiot brought a knife to a gunfight? Wyatt wasted two morons who charged through the open front door, guns blazing. The noise was horrendous, making Asher wish he’d worn ear protection. An oxygen mask would’ve been nice, too. The air inside was damned rank.

There was no longer any need to worry whether Alex could keep up or see clearly. He proved himself with every shot fired. Asher had never seen such finesse in battle before. Alex was a master craftsman in the delicate but brutal art of war, a whirling devil. Asher was nothing but a clumsy first-year student by comparison. Cautiously, he moved closer, in case his boss might need him. It could happen. When the last guard fell, he tapped Alex’s shoulder to let him know he had his back. Which felt a lot likeSponge BobaskingGandalf the Grayif he needed a hand fighting that army of Orcs.

“Tripp and Cord, you’ve got seven coming your way,” Mark advised through their shared link.

Gunfire erupted from the direction of the kitchen exit as Tripp and Cord engaged the enemy. It was a long two minutes until Cord came back with, “Thanks for the intel, brother. All seven down and we’re still up.” He sounded winded. “Both of us. Tripp’s a damned quick draw.”

“Boss,” Asher growled, “that was a coordinated attack. Jamah’s got to have hidden cameras in this place.” Not that those cameras were keeping Jamah’s men alive, but Asher had no doubt the rat bastard had been watching the whole time. The question was—from where?

Alex backtracked to the staircase. Stretching a hand to Wyatt, he ordered, “You’re up.”

Wyatt tugged two palm-sized devices from his padded bag and removed the protective strips covering their backsides. “You do realize these’ll kill everyone in their line of sight.”

Impatiently, Alex growled. “The only innocents in this hellhole are chained in the cellar, and we’ll take care of them later. Asher, start climbing. I’m right behind you.”

Along with Alex, Asher stopped several steps above Wyatt. They watched while he placed one device in the center of the second riser up from the floor. The other device went on the riser two steps up from the first. Stepping over the second device, he jerked his chin for Alex and Asher to continue ahead of him. Cautiously they climbed the elegant, curved staircase.

Jamah’s mansion was a bizarre mix of the most inhospitable hospitality Asher had ever seen. Thick, plush, scarlet Persian rugs covered cold, black marble floors. Magnificently arranged bouquets of dead flowers in gold vases accented the lacquered tables under each shuttered window. Even the carved sandstoneshutters were works of gory art, each depicting ancient battles. Robed Arabic warriors on small horses battling armored knights. Helmeted European skulls mounted on spikes. Mounds of bodies burning. Mosques and churches on fire. Dragons with human body parts—legs, arms, and torsos—dangling between their teeth.

At last, the stairway ended at a wide landing showcasing the carved, closed wooden door ahead. There they stopped.

“You guys have anything in those bags that’ll let us see inside?” Alex asked quietly.

Asher pulled a miniature under-door camera stick out of the side pocket of his bag and extended it to its maximum length. “This’ll work.”

Crouching to the floor, he slipped the stick under the door and activated the cell-phone-sized screen on the opposite end. Things got a little dicey when what sounded like an army of Jamah’s men stormed the stairs behind them, cursing all infidels. Flexing his jaw to alleviate the pressure of the upcoming explosion, Asher held his position until—

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