Silent Hunter
Page 18
A canister hit Eric’s foot, and gas began to pour out in a cloud of smoke. “Gas!” Eric called out the warning, but they couldn’t get to masks they didn’t have. They couldn’t even move from their positions.
Two more canisters were tossed at the edges of their huddle and more smoke chugged out of them. The cloud cut off what visibility they’d had and Eric’s lungs protested the noxious smell of tear gas. How long could he hold his breath? Hailey coughed, and then Ames did, too. Parker looked like he was still breathing normally. What did they do to SEALs in their training?
Then there was nothing but smoke.
Parker yelled, “Hold!”
Deputy Marshal Ames hit the floor.
Something slammed into Eric’s neck. It felt like a tiny rock. He tried to suck in a breath, but the floor swept up and hit him. Gunshots. Parker and Hailey both fell, too.
Eric touched the side of his neck and pulled his gloved hand back, but there was no blood. He could barely breathe. It felt like the time he’d been winded playing paintball. The bruise had been on his sternum for weeks.
Beanbag rounds?
Booted feet crowded around them. He tried to move. The team was all down and the fugitive was laughing full out now, a sickening sound.
Steve Farrell stepped on Eric’s stomach on the way over his body. Still laughing, he walked away. Their assailants looked like a swarm of cockroaches to Eric’s blurred vision. He wiped away the tears streaming down his face—a product of the gas—and tried to focus.
The assault team was going to disappear into the darkness with an escaped fugitive.
Eric grasped about for his weapon, grabbed it and managed to aim at the man in orange.
One of his teammates fired.
Eric fired, too.
Copyright © 2015 by Lisa Phillips
ISBN-13: 9781460376140
Silent Hunter
Copyright © 2015 by Mags Storey
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