Page 52 of The Soldier

Then I press—

A boot connects with my leg. “Hey, piece of shit, did you punch me?”

My bullet goes wide. My target leaps to his feet as the bodies around him fall and flesh splatters on the walls behind him.

“Fuck.” I curse and reload, the metal of my weapon slamming against metal.

“Miller!” Rodriques is on his knees and tackling the guy. “The hell do you think you’re doing.”

Jesus.

Where are you Ahmad Al-Kharafi?

Looking through my scope, I scan the area anxiously ignoring the scuffle behind me. I go left. I go right. I lift my head.

Shit.

If I’ve lost him, I’ll shoot Roger fucking Miller.

A second later, lights turn on in the compound as people go running. I can see the bodies on the ground and quickly count.

Three down.

“Get him out of here.” Rodriques hisses.

I continue seeking out Ahmad Al-Kharafi. He’s there but there’s a high chance he’s disappeared out back or worse, into an underground tunnel.

“Shit.” I get up on my knees and then duck back down as the first bullets fire our way.

I lie down on my back.

Goddamn it.

Looks like I need a new plan.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ROGER

––––––––

That motherfucker.

I don’t need to be stone cold sober to know this will fuck up my chances of being promoted.

He will pay.

Marshall fucking Adams will pay for this.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MARSHALL

––––––––

“Looks like I lied,” I say to Rodriques as he turns his head.

No surprises, Adams. He’d asked me, and I’d said this would be a clean job.

---