Page 23 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
"Limited and getting more limited by the minute." He studied her face, noting the way pain tightened the skin around her eyes despite her efforts to conceal it. "How mobile are you? Because we’re going to need to move fast over shit terrain."
Pride hardened her expression as she stood taller. "Don’t you worry about me, I can keep up."
The lie was obvious, but he respected the effort. Admitting weakness wasn’t easy for people like them.
"Good." He activated his comm. "Skinny, we’re going to need pickup. We’re about to go loud."
“Got it, boss,” Skinny’s deep voice filled his ear. “On our way.”
T'Raal turned his attention back to Payne.
"Ready?" he asked, noting the way she automatically checked her weapon placement. The sound of approaching footsteps brought her head up, and she glanced at him.
The net was closing.
“As I’ll ever be,” she gave him something that might have been a smile. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
The first shotcracked past Reese's ear as they broke cover, close enough to feel the heat displacement against her cheek. She hissed and threw herself sideways behind a rusted loader.
"Multiple shooters, elevated positions," T'Raal's deep voice was calm. She watched as he moved like liquid violence, flowing from cover to cover with the kind of grace a man that big shouldn’t possess. She felt clumsy by comparison, especially with her exo-legs.
"Four confirmed positions, probably more. Shit. They've got overlapping fields of fire, boss." Tank yelled over the noise, braced against a shipping container, and already returning fire. Her rifle spat controlled bursts toward the rooftops where muzzle flashes bloomed like deadly flowers.
Reese drew her pistols. Smaller than the rifles the other two were using, but easier to conceal and perfect for close-quarters work.
A figure moved between shipping containers fifty meters ahead, trying to flank their position. On instinct, she turned and fired in one movement. The figure dropped with the boneless finality that marked a perfect headshot.
"Nice work," T'Raal called out, though his attention remained fixed on the tactical situation developing around them. "How many rounds?"
"One." She turned the pistol, checking the count. "How far to the extraction point?"
"Four minutes if we move fast." His rifle barked three times in rapid succession, each shot perfectly placed. A frown creasedher brow as, behind him, a figure fell from a rooftop. None of them had fired that way.
T’Raal spotted the direction of her gaze and grinned. "Red's got overwatch, picking off the roof teams. We run hard, stay low, don't stop for anything."
The plan sounded simple enough. Run four minutes through hostile territory while being shot at.
Reese checked the exo-legs charge readout panel at her waist. Not fully charged, but it would be enough. It would have to be.
"Moving on three," he said, and she felt rather than saw his attention focus on her. She refused to look his way. He was probably calculating how much she'd slow them down.
Fair enough. She'd be making the same calculations in his position.
"Three." Tank shifted position, rifle trained on the most obvious ambush point ahead.
"Two." T'Raal's stance changed subtly, coiled tension that she tried hard not to watch in fascination.
"One."
They moved as a unit. Even though she’d never worked with T’Raal and it had been years since she and Tank had been in combat together, that didn’t matter. Between them, they had decades of combined combat experience, and that translated into coordinated action that didn’t need any discussion.
T'Raal took point. She watched him from the corner of her eye, trying hard not to notice how nice his ass looked in those tight combat pants. Definitely not looking at his ass… she was watching how he moved. It was just professional assessment, she told herself, though the way her pulse spiked had nothing to do with tactical appreciation.
He was beautiful. Not pretty-boy handsome, but beautiful in the way that predators were beautiful… all controlled power andlethal efficiency. The kind of man who made smart women make stupid decisions.
Tank moved up to cover their left flank, her rifle barking whenever targets presented themselves. Reese held the center, tucked in behind T’Raal with her pistols ready for any threat that made it past the other two.
The first hundred meters went smoothly. Too smoothly. She was almost beginning to think they’d make it, that the tide and her luck had turned.
