Page 21 of Heat Force

He lay on his stomach and took aim. The rebels approached, cautiously at first, then speeding up as they grew in confidence. He had the benefit of the well-lit clearing behind them that silhouetted their forms. When they reached the treeline, he pulled the trigger and the first man went down, screaming and clutching his shoulder. It wasn’t a fatal shot, but it would render his shooting arm useless.

The others unleashed a hail of bullets into the undergrowth, but as he’d expected, they went high. Problem was, it drew the attention of the other two rebels inside the clinic. They came charging out, guns raised. He half expected to see more emerge from the jungle, but none did. Perhaps this was just one band on a rampage.

Hawk stayed down, poised for another shot. As they raced forward, he unleashed a shitstorm of his own, spraying up dustin front of them. He could have killed them outright, but he didn’t need the complication.

They skidded to a halt, then scrambled backwards. He was the unseen enemy, and there was nothing more fearsome than that. They scrambled for cover, hiding behind the golf cart.

He was waiting for them to emerge, when he heard a familiar sound. Low at first, almost imperceptible against the hum of the jungle, but growing steadily louder—a rhythmicwhump-whump-whumpthat sent a rush of relief through him.

A helicopter.

The rebels heard it too. Their movements faltered, their heads snapping toward the sound. One of them barked an order, his voice tinged with urgency. They broke cover, disappearing into the thick underbrush, shadows dissolving into the jungle, leaving their three wounded colleagues bleeding in the clearing.

For a few tense moments, Hawk stayed rooted in place, his rifle tracking the bushes, ready for one of them to make a last-ditch attempt. His breathing was steady, his mind clear, but his muscles were taut, every nerve on edge.

Thewhump-whump-whumpgrew deafening now as the helicopter came into land. Hawk emerged from the jungle and trained his weapon on the three injured rebels. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, as one eyed out his rifle.

Hawk kicked the discarded weapons to safety as the chopper lowered itself into the clearing. The rebels wouldn’t be going anywhere in their condition. The one with the shoulder wound was unconscious now, the two others writing in agony, one clutching his leg, the other his arm. With proper treatment, they’d survive to fight another day.

Once the helicopter had landed, he pivoted and scanned the undergrowth for Lexi and Moyo.

“Lexi,” he yelled. “You can come out now.”

Then he spotted her. A white face peering from behind the brushes several yards away.

“They’re gone,” he called. “It’s safe.”

She stepped out, her arms still wrapped tightly around Moyo. Hawk wanted nothing more than to go to her, take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, but the sound of boots hitting the ground pulled his attention back to the clearing.

A team of UN peacekeepers jumped out, their weapons raised, their movements efficient and coordinated. The sight brought back a flood of memories—missions, deployments, nights just like this one in some godforsaken place. It felt like a lifetime ago.

He slung the rifle over his shoulder and raised his hands in a gesture of calm as the nearest officer approached. “I’m American,” he said. “I’ve got three wounded rebels and a bunch of unarmed civilians here. The remaining fighters fled into the jungle when they heard you coming.”

The officer nodded sharply, signaling to his team to fan out and secure the area.

Hawk turned back to where Lexi stood, still clutching Moyo. Her hands were trembling, her breaths shallow, and her eyes were huge and haunted.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, her eyes locked on his. Amongst the fear, he saw concern. She’d been worried about him. “Are you?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. A mix of affection and adrenaline coursed through his veins. Damned if that didn’t feel good.

He exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You shot them?” She nodded to the three injured rebels on the ground. The UN peacekeepers were inspecting their wounds,before giving them some basic treatment and loading them into the helicopter.

“Yeah.” He didn’t excuse it. They’d been gunning for them. If he hadn’t, they sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here now.

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Hawk could tell she was about to break. Fuck propriety. Some things were more important. He opened his arms, and taking Moyo with her, she collapsed into them.

“You’re not just an engineer,are you?” Lexi said quietly, once they’d made sure everyone was safe. They were sitting on the front steps of the clinic, drinking coffee from tin mugs under the dim porch light, trying to recover after the drama of the last few hours.

Moyo had gone back to Patrick’s house with his wife and family, while the infant gorillas were safely back in their enclosure behind the clinic, no worse for wear.

Hawk didn’t answer right away. He stared out into the darkness, that chiseled jaw tight with tension.

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning slightly toward him. “I saw you out there—with the rebels, with that rifle. You knew exactly what to do.”