Page 71 of Constantly Cotton
“He’s a civilian.” Jason’s voice rang hard and cold from behind him. “This is between you and me. You need to let him go.”
“This isnotbetween you and me!” she declared passionately. “It wasneverbetween you and me! It was between my husband and the guy with the guns. Why you had to get in the way of that payment of children, I willneverunderstand. Now put your weapon down, or I will shoot him. I’ve got the clean shot here. I know you don’t!”
Signs
OH GOD.Of all the stupid things. While part of Jason knew they would have been trapped in the cabin, as he sighted down his shaking hands to where Karina stood, he was still blaming himself for being trappedhere.
Dammit, he couldn’t get a clean shot! Cotton was standing directly in front of him, Karina slightly to Cotton’s right. He needed Cotton to shift—God, just a little. A step or two.
C’mon, Cotton, please read my mind. Please please please please….
Jason’s heart was beating so loud he almost couldn’t hear his own voice. “Cotton,” he said through a dry throat, “it’s all going to be okay.”
“Of course it is,” Cotton said, sounding as serene and as trusting as Jason had ever heard him. “You’d never lie to me.”
Cotton hit the wordlie, inflected it, and that quickly, Jason knew exactly what he was planning. Jason didn’t even have time to scream, “Baby, duck!” before his angel’s feet made their telltale shuffle to the left.
And Jason had a clean shot.
He barely registered the kickback, the report, before Karina Schroeder dropped into the dusty leaf mold at her feet, and another bulletthunked into the tree to his right. He swung smoothly, sighting the target, also in black, and pulled the trigger of the Glock semiauto twice in quick succession.
The target staggered back and Jason swung to his left, finger poised on the trigger once again, only to see that the target was being thrust toward him, chest first, hands tied behind the back, by a skinny asshole in cargo shorts and tennis shoes who was holding a tire iron in his left hand while he held the secured prisoner with the right.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Jackson Rivers cried out. “Hold on there, chief, I’m a good guy!”
Jason swallowed, his adrenaline ebbing enough for him to take stock. “Is that all?” he said. “Are we clear?”
Before Jackson could answer, Cotton said, “Jason, Trina’s down. I need to go check on her. Help me check!”
“Stay put,” Trina moaned, and the rush of relief he felt almost sent him staggering to the ground.
Jason looked hard at Rivers. “Are we clear?”
“As far as we know,” Jackson said. “You three made a lot of noise crashing through the brush. I watched this guy talk to his buddies and turn from his assault to the front of the house.”
“Jason!” Cotton called, anguish in his voice.
“You’re clear,” Jason said, holstering his gun and leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. “Go check on her, angel. I’m gonna stay here for a moment, and Rivers here is going to call Burton to come take care of the bad guys.”
He took stock of the guy to his right, whom he’d hit center mass, and at Karina Schroeder, still and dead from a shot right between the eyes. “And get rid of the deceased too,” he muttered.
Jackson grunted. “I can do that,” he said. “But how about you deal with this guy and talk to Burton instead, and I’ll get Henry to come help me move the bodies closer to the house.” He grimaced. “God, what a shitty job.”
Jason had to laugh. “Bailing my ass out of the fire or what you do for Cramer?”
“I meant yours,” Jackson said sincerely. “I couldn’t do what you did, but I sure am glad you did it.”
Jason nodded wearily and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. As he did so, the guy in Jackson’s grip struggled hard enough that Jackson kicked him from behind with enough force to send him to his knees.
“Before you start moving bodies,” Jason said, the adrenaline leaving him in a rush, “do you think you could tie that guy to a chair? We need to have a few words.”
“Your operation,” Rivers told him, which considering how much of it was random and how much was a clusterfuck, was not exactly a sign of respect.
Exfil
AN HOURlater, Cotton was tending to Trina, who had a through-and-through bullet wound in her shoulder, and Jason was wondering how to tell him it was time for him to go.
He’d been so competent: bathing the wound in antiseptic, using every trick he’d learned watching Lance tend Jason, making sure she had some painkillers first. Cotton had carried her into the cabin by himself, proving all those muscles reallyweren’tfor show, and then quietly set about dressing the arm and making his friend feel better, speaking only to give terse orders to Rivers, which Jason and Henry heard from the other room.
