Page 3 of Ricochet

The man at dinner drove his knife into his own chest. An agonizing cry gurgled into a drowning cough.

Colin gasped. “What the—”

“Hell!” Grayson shouted.

The two men reached for their weapons, and Delta fired. Blood splattered. Heavy thuds of guns hit the ground before the men toppled, dead.

Colin’s lungs raced.“What just happened?”

“Report,” Brock snapped.

Colin took his finger off the trigger and glanced at his sides. Grayson and Javier stared, as dumbfounded as he was.

“Yeah.” Colin cleared his throat. “Clear.”

“I asked for a report, damn it.”

He ran a hand over his face and let his weapon hang. “Three tangoes down. One suicide. Delta accounted for.”

Both team leaders cursed. Orders had beento take anyone of value alive, if possible.

“Brock,” Colin asked quietly. The two men had been outmaneuvered and outgunned. Why had they reached after the first one killed himself? Made zero sense.

His team leader groused. “Yeah?”

“We’d tear apart this room, but—” Colin circled. “It’s barren. You want us to start searching now?”

“Yeah,” Brock muttered. “Let’s get a move on. Time is of theessence.”

All right. That wasn’t much to go on.Maybe something with a timer or a detonator.“What are we looking for?”

Brock’s long breath carried through the earpieces, as though he, too, were tired of their fight tonight. “Containers.”

“Got about a thousand of those,” Javier added. “Anything more specific when we look inside?”

“You’ll see people.”

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