Connor (In the Company of Snipers Book 5)

by Irish Winters

  Morgan had taken lead as they’d drawn closer to Beacon Point. Roy, Mark, and Boston were already in place on the south side of the river. She, Morgan, and Rory Dennison were to take the north side with orders to stay out of sight and not engage unless the cartel engaged with the civilians.

  “How are you doing over there, Team Two?” Roy asked everyone over their tactical headsets.

  “Good,” Morgan responded. “Almost in position.”

  “Double check your backstop,” Roy suggested.

  “Always do.” Izza could not let that unnecessary suggestion pass without a comment. Any gun owner worth her salt knew to ensure her line of fire was clear behind the target as well as in front. It was lesson one from beginner’s gun safety. Who didn’t know that?

  “Just a friendly reminder, Izza,” Roy replied. “Don’t take it personally. We’re dealing with civilians. Anything that can go wrong will.”

  “Understood,” she replied instead of the standard, ‘copy that.’ For some reason, all the men on the planet were annoying the hell out of her today, her two senior agents included.

  Team Two spread out with Morgan hidden at ground level in a brush-filled stand of pines while she and Rory took the ledge overlooking Beacon Point. She dropped to her belly and extended the bipod to her rifle. Sighting in, she searched for the uniformed cartel guards Connor had described.

  Rory grumbled to her left. “A decent countersniper might be able to catch the reflection off our scopes at this angle. It’s going to be hot. We’re facing the sun. Stay low.”

  She didn’t answer other than to pull a thin sheet of drab green netting from her gear bag and toss it to him. He caught the small bundle mid-air with an appreciative smile. “Good girl. Knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  That gentle compliment from a guy like Rory eased the aggravation climbing over her shoulders. Izza draped a second piece of the netting over her head and rifle. It didn’t take much to blend into the landscape when a person knew how to do it properly. This low cost item distorted line of sight and body angles from anyone who might be peering at her from across the way. It also reduced the glare from sweaty faces, scope lenses and other reflective surfaces, yet it was completely see through at the same time. She and Rory had just made themselves invisible in the blink of an eye.

  “Looks like there’s lots of happy people down there,” he commented quietly.

  She grunted in reply, not really caring who was happy or not. A cool breeze lifted up the canyon wall and whispered over them with the sweet fragrance of pine and the river below. For a split second, Izza relaxed. Rory was the perfect companion soldier, never too talkative and never nosing into other people’s business. Birds twittered from the shrubbery behind her. The sounds of merriment and happy children drifted along with the breeze. She could almost believe she was not carrying the weight of the world.

  Izza stiffened to attention. She’d picked up movement. By the looks of it, Team One had moved closer to the riverbank opposite the picnickers.

  “Shit.” Izza scrutinized the capable figure in her riflescope. Cassidy Dancer lay secluded beneath the low-lying boughs of a large blue spruce. What the hell’s she doing there?

  “What do you see?” Rory asked. “Cartel?”

  “DEA,” she growled, her scope busily picking out another DEA agent’s sniper hide—Connor’s. He’d obviously finagled an op with his girlfriend. Just damned great.

  “Good,” Rory breathed. “It’s about time the DEA joined the party.”

  Izza bit her lip. Good was not the word she’d have chosen. She hunkered her cheek into her rifle stock. One surprise was bad enough. Where the hell were the cartel guards? She froze. There they were—three men nearly invisible in the shade of a tangled giant willow on the other side of the river. They’d chosen an excellent location as well. The long trailing branches of the tree made them difficult to spot.

  Switching to thermal to pierce the deep shade beneath the tree, she adjusted the magnification on her scope. Were they cartel or just men fishing? It was difficult to get a clear picture. No weapon showed, but with all the branches in the way, they looked suspicious. Aggravated, she blew her bangs out of her eyes and looked again. Damn it, anyway. Did pregnancy make everything appear blurry or was it just the blasted heat?

  “I see you brought your night vision scope,” Rory whispered. “You prepared for an all nighter?”

  “Can’t intercept what I can’t see. Check the willow on the other side of the river. The big one. Do those guys beneath it look like cartel to you or fishermen?”

  “Been watching them. I don’t see rifles, but they’ve got gear on the ground. Could be cartel. Let’s keep an eye on them.”

  He turned to silence as the afternoon dragged. It was not until the sun was low on the western horizon that activity kicked into high gear at the day park. The long shadows of evening turned darker. Someone had fireworks, someone else had water balloons, and of course, someone else had brought a garden hose, which was now attached to the campground faucet. Naturally, a wild and noisy water fight ensued with kids and parents alike running through scrub oak and willow.

  “I’ve got three uniformed men by the creek.” It was Cassidy’s voice, loud and clear. “They’re crouched beneath a—”

  “I see them,” Izza snapped in everyone’s headsets. “Been watching them for hours. They’re just sitting there in the shade. No big deal.”

  “Mark?” Connor intervened. “Do you see ’em?”

  “Yes,” Mark answered. “They’re wearing the uniforms you showed us on your video. They’re not moving, but they do have pistols. No rifles in sight yet, at least none I can make out.”

  Izza adjusted her magnification again. Damn. She was not seeing what Mark had just declared. Pistols? NVGs? He must have a better line of sight.

  Roy grunted. “That ain’t good. You seeing the same thing, Izza?”

  She couldn’t be sure. Exasperated, she took her eye off the target and turned to Rory. “Can you verify what Mark is seeing? I sure as hell can’t.”

  “Not at this angle,” he replied evenly. “Cassidy must have a better scope, or she’s got better eyes.”

  Izza shook the slam off and reported to Roy. “Can’t get a clear view from all the way up here. You want me to move in closer?”

  “No,” he said. “Let Cassidy take the lead. She’s already in position.”

  “Yes, sir,” was all Izza could spit out. Cassidy was quickly becoming a pain in the ass. Who the hell was she that Roy would give her the lead?

  “Team One, move in,” Roy said. “Keep these three guys in sight as well as the civilians. We don’t want anyone hurt tonight. Team Two stay put.”

  It was all Izza could do to not curse. Once again, Team One moved closer to the action while Team Two sat on their thumbs and did nothing but watch. Fireworks shot through the trees along with squeals of delight and the laughter of a lot of partygoers. Water balloons were still flying fast and furious. Squealing children were everywhere, rambunctious young adults too. Two young people in particular wandered closer to the creek with a flashlight. Izza shook the irksome twinge out of her neck along with the pain caused by that other woman.

  “I’m seeing a rifle.” Again it was Dancer. “The man farthest east. I think he’s—”

  “It’s a branch,” Izza cut her off. “Check your scope, Dancer.”

  She zeroed in on said target to verify her own as yet unverified assessment. Damn it. Dancer might be right after all. The three cartel guards had changed position. They were all standing now. The man farthest east was obscured in the willow branches, and the fading light didn’t help. It did look like he had a branch or a fishing pole across his arm, until—

  “Correction. Rifle with scope.” Connor’s voice came steady and sure over the headset. “He’s on his feet and aiming toward the two civilians at the edge of the river. Clear shot. I can take him down. Roy, do you copy?”

  Izza huffed into her headset. “
You would.”

  “Copy that,” Roy muttered softly. “Hang tight, let’s—“

  “Hold on,” Morgan interrupted. “Damn. Those kids are almost on top of the guards. They’re walking right up to him like he’s not even there. Are you seeing this?”

  Izza scanned the scene, her eye tight to her scope. The guard in question stood in full view just as the happy couple arrived at the edge of the riverbank. They hadn’t seen him yet, both too engrossed in each other and obviously thinking of skinny-dipping. The young man had his shirt already off, bouncing on one foot as he peeled out of his jeans. The girl stuck her foot into the cold creek water and giggled.

  The cartel guard raised his rifle to his shoulder. Standing in the cold creek water in his boxers, the young man beckoned his girlfriend to join him. Izza couldn’t hear their voices at the distance. The silly girl splashed him. He laughed and stepped further into the creek, still waving her forward.

  “Copy, Morgan. Roy?” Connor asked one final time for the go ahead to shoot.

  Roy didn’t hesitate. “Do it.”

  It happened fast. Connor’s shot rang out loud and true. The cartel guard fell backwards into the river with a splash. The other two roared from beneath the willow’s cover, firing their automatic weapons uphill in Connor’s direction. The young man and girl ran screaming back to the park pavilion. And all hell broke loose.

  “Team One move,” Roy barked. “Get down there. Now!”

  At this point, all Izza could offer from her post all the way across the canyon was a status report. “The two guards are in the river dragging their buddy to the south. They’re on the south side of the creek. Moving downstream.”

  “Good job, Connor,” Rory added.

  She smothered her opinion with a terse, “If you guys don’t get your asses in gear, you’re gonna lose ’em. Run!”

  Connor was nearly at the edge of creek by then. Mark too, but the cartel guards were long gone.

  “Way to go, Boston. You lost ’em,” Izza reported for all to hear.

  He ignored her snarky comment. “Sorry, folks. The SC knows we’re here now.”

  Cassidy’s voice came softly into every agent’s earpiece. “Way to go, Connor.”

  Izza bit her lip. Shut the hell up, Dancer.

  Eight

  “You doing any better?” Roy handed her another string of skimpy RV toilet paper, the kind that dissolves on your lips.

  “Uh, huh,” Izza groaned even as she retched. More vomiting doubled her over. It was bad enough that Cassidy and Connor were best buds and the heroes of the day, but the fast track back to camp and into the closest bushes had done Izza in. Embarrassment flooded her to the core with unbearable warmth she didn’t need in this damned hot state. Already on her knees, she sank to her hands and lowered her head for another round of physical torment. Dry heaves would be next.

  She needed absolute privacy, but here Roy knelt with her while she puked her guts up. How dumb was he?

  “You eat something bad on the drive down?” He sounded concerned right now, but it wouldn’t last. He was that nasty drill sergeant at the end of a failed op. All that gentle concern would end in a butt reaming the minute she crawled up off her knees. He was just waiting until she could take it.

  “Yeah. Food poisoning. That’s all it is.” She sat back, shaking and sweating in the pale moonlight. God, she must look like death. Huffing in a shallow breath so as not to upset her traitorous stomach, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and hoped it was done.

  Retribution lingered on her horizon. Without a doubt, Roy was not happy. Neither was she. He’d probably followed her into the bushes thinking he’d give her a stern talking to, but she’d surprised him by being damned sick. Another round of nausea swept through her entire body. Cold sweats followed. At last, her stomach settled enough that she rolled onto her butt to face the music.

  “You gonna be okay?” he asked quietly, his deep dark eyes piercing straight to her soul.

  Izza squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Okay was not in her dictionary anymore. God, if he only knew. “Sorry.” She blew her nose on that flimsy piece of toilet paper and wiped her mouth again. “I hate throwing up.”

  “We all do. Food poisoning’s no fun.” He gave her a hand up and steadied her. As luck would have it, Connor and the rest of them were far enough away they couldn’t hear anything taking place in the scrub oak. “Are you feeling better?”

  Here it comes. The well deserved slap down. For a quick moment she swayed, but then she righted herself and pulled away from his grip. Anger served her well at times like this. “I said I’m okay, didn’t I?”

  He countered by gripping her arm tighter. Roy peered into her eyes, his own dark with authority she would never submit to. “And I asked you if you’re okay, Agent Ramos. Don’t give me your bullshit. You’ve been on Connor’s back since you got here. I need to know what’s going on between the two of you, right here and now. If you’ve got something to say, you’d better spit it out and be done with it.”

  She glared right back, not willing to tell him anything he didn’t already know. “What? He come crying to you like the wuss he is?”

  Roy cocked his head sideways. “What the hell are you talking about? Connor’s no—”

  “Listen, Hudson. Next time I throw up, I’ll try not to inconvenience you or your op.” She jerked out of his hand, her jaw tight, and ready for a fight.

  “Junior Agent Ramos!” Roy barked before she made it one step away from him. “Back the hell off! No more, do you hear me? Lay off Conner. Lay off Cassidy. And shut the hell up if you can’t contribute to the operation. You damned near cost innocent lives back there. I don’t care how sick or pissed off you are, it ends now!”

  She kept her mouth shut, her smartest move all day.

  “I asked you something,” he growled, “and you damned well better have the right answer or I’m firing your ass all the way back to Alexandria. Let Alex deal with you.”

  She clenched her jaw and lowered her head. Do it then. Fire me. Maybe Alex will fire me off The TEAM, too. Why’d I ever think working for another Marine was a smart idea anyway?

  Roy took a firm step deep inside her comfort zone, an old drill sergeant tactic. Next he’d be an inch from her eardrum and bellowing, calling names and spitting in her face. She stood her ground, still looking at the dirt.

  “Fine,” she spat.

  “Excuse me?” he growled again.

  “Fine, I will shut the hell up when and if I can’t contribute,” she yelled at him. There, are you happy now, cuz I sure as hell am not!

  “Dismissed.”

  She stalked away. Dismissed, your ass. This isn’t the Corps. I quit.

  The sheriff’s department quickly overran the day park. Everyone but Izza and Roy stayed below to provide whatever assistance and information the local authorities needed. As the shooter, Connor had no choice.

  The blood splatter beneath the willow definitely confirmed a crime scene, but no body was recovered and none of the armed guards were apprehended. One call to the governor’s office verified who The TEAM was and their mission in Utah. The police and Mark traded phone numbers. Governor Baxter closed the canyon to all incoming civilian traffic and activities. The war had begun.

  “Set up a night watch schedule, Connor,” Mark ordered as they hiked back to camp in the wee small hours of the morning. Cassidy and Brigham followed, with Rory and Morgan bringing up the rear. “Two by two. Four hour shifts. Everyone participates.”

  “Will do,” Connor replied. “Guess we gave Ramirez the wake up call we wanted.”

  “Hope so. It’d be better if we’d been sent to flush these guys out of the canyon and into law enforcement’s net, though. Seems to me that’s what we should’ve done instead of all this observation bullshit. We could’ve had this canyon cleared days ago.”

  “That’s what I don’t get,” Connor said. “DEA’s been here before. They know what’s going on. Why are they sitting on their thumb
s now?”

  “Which is probably why Baxter contacted Alex. He didn’t think the DEA was doing enough.”

  “We aren’t, either. It’s like our hands are tied. I don’t mind hanging around watching and reporting until crap starts flying, but then, by hell, it’s time to stand up and do something. Why the hell are we here, anyway?”

  “Watch and tell never turns out to be an easy assignment, does it?” Mark replied. “But look at it this way. You were in the right place at the right time tonight. You saved a couple kids’ lives. That’s worth the time you think you’ve wasted.”

  Connor shut up. He wasn’t looking for praise. His inner Marine demanded room to stretch, knock off a few hundred rounds, and take care of business. That’s what every soldier wanted: the bureaucrats out of their way so a man could clean house once and for all, get the job done and come home proud of a hard day’s work. Current rules of engagement made every operation a nightmare. He thought Alex knew better.

  Their camp came into view, but only Roy sat near the cold fire pit, his hands locked together in front of him.

  “You sure took off like a bat out of hell,” Mark said while he peeled out of his tactical gear.

  “Had some business to take care of,” Roy answered quietly. “Why? Did you need me to stay?”

  “No. We handled it. The sheriff wanted to confront the cartel tonight, but we told them to back off. They’re more than happy to work with us, especially now that they know what’s really going on.”

  “Let me guess,” Roy said darkly. “DEA kept them out of the loop, too.”

  “From what I gather, the DEA has kept an information blackout on this entire operation. Local PD had strict orders to stay out of the canyon until they got the call tonight.”

  Connor’s eyes shifted to the shadows behind Roy while the senior agents debated whys and hows. No doubt the business Roy had to take care of was Izza. Silvery moonlight glinted through the pines. She was close and listening to every word. Connor could sense her hatred from wherever she lay. What possessed her to argue with a judgment call like she had?