by LS Silverii
“You love her?”
“Yes I do. I’d do anything for her, Rose—even murder JW Colt.”
“Dwight, you’ve got time before Colt’s float gets to you. Think this through—we’re about to go black. I’ll reach you through comms once Team Bravo is secured and debriefed.”
* * *
“King’s float is a few miles out. We’ve got four stories of mixed-use units facing Lee Circle. Each has to be breached and cleared. Seems they’ve changed their nest away from the roof once Air Wing was spotted hovering,” Chu instructed. “Kymani, it’s your show until the All Clear is called.”
“Logic says skip first two floors—no optics or elevation. Male/female targets. Both trained in long and handguns. We work as one unit, understand?” His Caribbean accent ebbed and flowed as he emphasized key points.
“Sir, there’s no time—we gotta split into two-man elements,” Chase Westin argued. KC, his wife nodded.
“Too dangerous. This is Mardi Gras and Lee Circle is a risky location for encountering innocents doing stupid things thanks to the carnival. We work together.”
“His city, his show.” Rose winked at Billy and nodded to Kymani. “Let’s roll.”
Chu led the unit up the fire escape to the third floor.
“Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is seven blocks out.”
“Why start on the third?” Lucky Cavanaugh asked.
“Four is too obvious. Anyone trying to avoid detection would know the first place cops would look was rooftop,” Chu said. He signaled Kymani to breach the hallway door. It opened without sound. The team flowed into the empty tiled hallway. Lawless was on point as they arrived at the first door on the left. He gripped it with a gloved hand—locked. Lawless moved to the other side of the door and trained his submachine gun further down the hall to cover the unit. Chu moved up and mule kicked the door—it exploded open.
“Moving,” Rose called as she disappeared into the first apartment.
“Clear.” Billy signaled as he and the other two exited behind the other unit members.
“Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is five blocks out.”
Lawless crouched and cat-walked on the balls of his tactical boots to level the weapon parallel. He bypassed the doors on the right side of the long hall since they had no sight access to Lee Circle.
“Approaching.” Lawless whispered and crossed past the door to once again cover down the hall.
Cavanaugh moved to the threshold, squeezed the knob. Locked. He pressed his back against the door and blasted it open with his own powerful mule kick.
“Moving,” KC snapped. She was followed by Chase and Chu.
“Clear.”
“Coming out,” Chase informed as all three re-emerged. Kymani watched and covered rear guard to prevent blind ambushes.
Lawless restarted the train down the hall and signaled to stop with his left hand over his ballistic helmet. The door handle on the next apartment jiggled. Two young girls backed out of the fourth apartment on the right side. Their eyes popped wide open, but Lawless pressed a finger to his lips and smiled for them to hush. He waved his hand and they hurried back inside their unit.
“Looking like a dead end, team,” Chase complained.
“Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is three blocks out.”
Lawless ignored him and waved the team forward to the third door on the left-hand side. He slowed his approach and bobbed his head while he pointed to the door with a thumb up. He passed across the threshold and spun around then faced everyone’s bright-eyed expressions of curiosity.
Lawless pointed down. Roof tar spackled tracked near the threshold signaled it might be the snipers. Rose smiled and nodded. She signaled with her free hand to instruct the entire unit what their areas of responsibility would be once they made entry.
“Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is one block out.”
Kymani squeezed the agent in front of him on the shoulder to signal he was ready. Cavanaugh nodded and then placed his hand on KC’s shoulder and squeezed. She nodded. This notification process repeated itself until Billy squeezed Rose’s own shoulder. She nodded. Her eyes told Lawless it was time.
Lawless eased his six-foot-five, badass rock-n-roll body against the door. He sucked in a gulp of air, and reared his size fourteen boot up with a high knee lift. His thigh exploded downward in a violent arc until his rubberized sole struck the metal exterior door. Four rounds from an AK47 burned through the door like melted butter. Lawless fell away from the fatal funnel.
Rose had already positioned her body at a forty-five degree slant to quicken the approach through the door. She flashed in the threshold and moved left to right, muzzle leveled, finger pressed against the trigger. Billy slipped a buttonhook and hugged the left wall. The former Delta Force operator snapped off two rounds to the shooter’s body and one to his head before the AK47’s trigger could zip another deadly shot.
“Move,” Billy’s voice all business, beckoned. Chu and KC covered each other as they moved from left to center of the apartment’s living room. They trained their weapons in opposite directions, “Clear. Move.”
Kymani and Chase flowed past Billy and Chu and KC until they positioned themselves outside a closed bedroom door—locked.
“Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float is in sight.”
Cavanaugh quickstepped until his boot splintered the hollow-core door.
“Bang,” warned Kymani. He pulled the pin and flung a Def-Tec #25 flashbang into the room. Shots rang out—holes appeared in the walls. Small arms fire.
Less than two seconds expired before the distraction device deployed into almost two and a half million candlepower and about one hundred seventy-five decibels. Enough power to flat scare the shit out of some but incapacitate others. It overwhelmed the sniper’s senses and allowed the unit additional seconds to enter the room to apprehend her.
“Control to tact unit. King Rex’s float has passed.”
“Tact to Control, dispatch air-med life flight immediately,” Rose beckoned. “One suspect down and one lucky bitch in custody. Meet evac on roof. Officer down.”
CHAPTER 19
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about twenty blocks out.”
“10-4, Control.” Hollywood reluctantly confirmed the STR Control Center’s surveillance information. Satellite techs back in Washington D.C.’s HQ had established eyes on the target float. They would deliver the countdown to Hollywood’s most difficult ethical decision ever.
Hunched over, his go-bag’s weight crunching against his spine, Hollywood stood in the ally beside the Hotel de L’Eau Vive. Left exhausted after his frantic scramble through packed sidewalks, he cursed at the roof’s fire escape access just beyond his reach.
“I ain’t afraid, mister,” said a young hulking man. His face looked familiar, but the smile was misplaced.
“Not now.” Hollywood dreaded the potential for having to fend off a mugger, but there wasn’t time to waste. He’d drop him fast and violent.
“Let me help you up there.” Huge hands extended as the sun beat off the man’s baldhead. He walked toward Hollywood with a gimp limp. And then it hit him—hearts and minds.
“Son, I got no time and no more cash.” Hollywood held his right fist in a rigid knife-hand position in case the guy tried to rob him.
“I help you.” He reached up to jerk the rusted ladder down to street level.
“Thank you. You’re very brave my friend.” Hollywood smiled, and then shuffled up the access.
Hollywood rested the Remington 700 rifle along the hotel’s rooftop. It balanced perfectly between the Kevlar reinforced stock and the bipod he’d attached at the front of the barrel. He dialed in the Leupold shooting scope for elevation and windage. A single round of .308 Winchester was chambered. He slammed the bolt closed. His index finger traced the edge of the trigger mechanism to ensure the weapon was on safe.
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about
fifteen blocks out.”
“10-4, Control.” Hollywood’s reply sounded empty.
He lay prone across the black tar rooftop. His right eye eased less than an inch from the scope’s optics until he found the sweet spot in its crosshairs. Krystal’s image shrieked in his mind.
He’d refused to watch the videos of Rose’s ungodly treatment at the hands of Razgravia’s equivalent to Osama bin Laden. There was no need to gawk. The talk was horrific and she deserved better—a second chance at life without the hell of those nineteen days planted in everyone’s minds.
The thought of Krystal going through the same torture at Cranston Stone’s hands caused him to tremble. His body shuddered so violently, he almost rocked off the rooftop. Sweat crawled through his hair. It trailed to his forehead and hung over his brows and eyes. This wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford to blink after JW Colt entered the hot zone.
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about ten blocks out.”
“Okay, Control.” His mind was spent—he couldn’t even consider the consequences for his action or inaction.
“Okay?” Inquired an anonymous civilian voice.
“10-4.” He snapped—Hollywood knew communications protocol.
He noticed a buzz from his go-bag—reached over for his cellphone. Hand quavered—was it Voodoo?
“Dwight.”
“Rose.”
“Bravo Team secured,” she reported.
“Good going.”
“Lawless went down. It’s not good.”
“Sorry to hear. Word on Voodoo?” Fear laced his question.
“Nothing yet. We’re giving it our all.”
“I know, Rose. Thank you.”
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about seven blocks out.”
“10-4, Control.”
“Whatever you decide to do, I support you. Not just on the job, but as a friend.”
“Rose, thanks for allowing me the chance to rediscover me.”
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about five blocks out.”
“10-4, Control,” Hollywood responded before he tossed the cell back onto his go-bag.
He nuzzled up against the rifle, and peered through the scope again. The streets had filled with partiers looking for one last depraved throw-down before Ash Wednesday’s start of the Lenten season of repentance and sacrifice.
Sacrifice. My life’s been about nothing but sacrificing for others. What about me?
Hollywood pressed the safety button until the nub showed red. He gripped the bolt action and snugged it one last time before his focus zeroed only on sight picture and breath control.
“Control to Sniper 1, the King Rex float is about three blocks out. No response needed for final countdown.”
He saw the high school color guard marching in time with the American flag elevated above the State of Louisiana flag. He smiled. “Good kids.” Next were the marching band and three members of King Rex’s royal krewe.
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about two blocks out.”
Finger tugged to remove the trigger’s slack. He blinked, but never lost sight.
“I can’t do this—he doesn’t deserve to die because he’s a freaking prick. But Krystal hasn’t done anything.”
Skin on his right index finger began to indent as he applied steady pressure against the brass trigger. He’d flat-lined his breathing to prevent his vision from moving up and then down behind the scope.
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is about one block out.”
Oh God, what do I do?
“Control to Sniper 1. King Rex float is in the red zone.”
I love you, Krystal Laveau. Pressure raged—he prayed for an answer. Sweat streamed across his lips. God bring her back to me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He eased his finger from inside the guard and spun away from the rifle. Pistol drawn from the waist holster, he aimed toward the ladder behind him. It was her.
“Alone?”
“Yeah.” She topped the ladder and stood open armed until he climbed to his feet. Weapon still gripped in his paw. The chaotic celebration below restricted his rooftop hearing. He scanned the area, and asked again.
“Yes,” she yelled.
They closed the small gap. Their bodies mashed together. He grabbed the back of her head with his unarmed hand and kissed her like his life depended on it. Eyes remained open just in case.
“How?” He whispered.
“Monkey fist.” She laughed and rubbed the hard bone on the top of her wrist, “You said he was a sucker for the monkey fist.” She imitated her v-shaped wrist smashing against his chin.
He snuggled into her neck, and tears spattered across her breast. Hollywood surrendered to emotions he’d suppressed for a lifetime.
* * *
“Rose, this is Krystal Laveau. Voodoo,” Hollywood corrected as he introduced them. They entered the hospital’s critical care post-surgery center.
“I hear you’ve got a pretty wicked wrap?” Rose smiled. Voodoo’s nose crinkled in question. “I mean you must be one hell of a woman to have wrapped this wonderful man around your finger.”
“Enough of this—how’s Lawless?” Hollywood asked.
“Soft tissue lost along with a kidney, but docs expect a full recovery and return.” Billy gave the unofficial prognosis.
Hollywood laid his hand over Rose’s forearm and walked her across the room near the vending machine. “How about the Razgravian ship?”
“Ghost, just like Bonny. We’re not sure if there ever was one, but STR’s in the process of translating and decoding her diary. Obviously, we’re on code orange standby in the event they locate Bonny or the ship.”
“How about Fats?” Hollywood asked.
“Yeah, how about him? Seems he and Bonny have had naughty little affair going for quite some time. I don’t understand it, but I guess she enjoyed being domineered by a slimy pork ball.” Rose shook her head and frowned.
“Are we going to pinch him for intel?” Hollywood asked.
“We think it’s best to leave him be for the moment. He’s a real chatterbox on the cellphones, so the more he lights up the wire, the more we know.” Her hand imitated lips yapping. Hollywood laughed.
“Dwight, I’m sorry for what I said the other day about you being the same old Hollywood.”
“It’s okay. I deserved it.”
“No, now listen to me—this is important because you’ve accomplished your mission—you’ve found the real Dwight David Harriman. Not to mention Krystal, who obviously loves you, but of course I’m no expert in human behavior.” She hugged him, and then walked back to where Billy Price was interrogating the attending surgeon.
“What were you two scheming up over there?” Krystal cornered him and moved close to kiss him.
“Nothing much. Just boring work talk.” He chuckled.
“You better not be jetting off to some high-flying cowboy adventure without me.” Voodoo wrapped her arms around his waist. She pulled him into her.
“Never. As long as you remember to pack the leather collar.”
CONTINUED in – DANGER’S HEAT
A Shadow Ops Novella
Book 2
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LS Silverii is a highly decorated law enforcement officer from Cajun country with over 25 years of heart-racing experience.
Danger’s Desire is the first in a trilogy written for CJ Lyons’ Shadow Ops Kindle Worlds. The romantic suspense series takes you behind the badge and across country to experience the raw rush and romance of true alpha heroes.
Connect with me online:
www.silverhartwriters.com
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twitter.com/silverhartllc
If you enjoyed reading Danger’s Desire, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.
Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’
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“LINKS TO MY OTHER BOOKS”
Danger’s Desire - (Book 1)
Danger’s Heat - (Book 2)
Danger’s Passion - (Book 3)
The Cajun Murder Mystery Series
Bayou Roux: The Complete First Season
Bayou Backslide: A Cajun Murder Mystery Series Special Edition
A Darker Shade of Blue: From Public Servant to Professional Deviant; Policing’s Special Operations Culture: A Darker Shade of Blue
Cop Culture: Why Good Cops Go Bad
LINKS TO CJ LYONS’ SHADOW OPS SERIES
Chasing Shadows
Lost in Shadows
Edge of Shadows
Sneak peek at Book 2:
DANGER’S HEAT
A Shadow Ops Novella
“You better make damn sure those cuffs are tight. Otherwise I’m gonna thrash your ass with ’em once I escape.” Krystal Laveau was helplessly strapped across the mattress. Worse than that, she sensed the helplessness of no possible escape. She twitched her shoulders in hopes of finding slack in confinement—nothing gave. Black hair whipped wildly over her cheeks as the camera clicked like an opening night red carpet.
“Empty threats and promises don’t alarm me.” His voice rumbled—low and husky—sending shivers down her spine.
He slid deeper into the chair, a comfortable pose, as if he could wait for as long as it took. Her eyes cut to the 9mm pistol he’d laid upon the glass-topped nightstand, ready and within easy reach.
“You better give it your best. One shot’s all you’ll get. I promise, you’re going to pay for this.” Her wrists ached, the cold, stainless steel handcuffs cutting into her flesh. She trembled. The white bed sheets tangled at her feet as she fought against her restraints.
He stood and paced across the plush carpet toward the open window. His shirtless body glimmered in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors designed to increase the feeling of space in the opulent suite.
