Nothing moved against the house, and there was no further hint of the shadow that had been behind the woodpile. Twenty-five yards of open ground between the trees and the house. Too far to run without being fully exposed.
Another bullet slammed into the tree, lower this time, sending down a cascade of snow. Then another round hit the ground, slicing into the snow just inches from George’s head. Ducking and rolling slightly to make a smaller target, the weapon slipped. It fell to the ground and was buried by the snow.
Footsteps came from the left. Quiet, moving fast.
Shit, where the hell is my rifle? As George scrambled to find it another round hit the tree, sending up an explosion of bark and snow.
And then George understood.
The shooter hadn’t missed by accident, but on purpose. That last shot had been a clear warning. The last warning.
“Hands! Show me your hands!” a female voice shouted, only yards away.
George dug hurriedly in the snow, searching for the rifle.
“Hands up, now!”
Just as George’s fingers touched the barrel, a shot thudded into the ground inches to the right, sending up another small spray of snow.
From the right of where the female target was.
Fuck. Two shooters.
The woman’s footsteps kept coming. Close enough for a pistol shot now. George reached for the weapon in its thigh holster.
Too late.
A sudden impact in the chest as a bullet hit the Kevlar vest. The force knocked George down, giving the target just enough time to make the tackle. They went down with a thud, falling through the snow, hitting the frozen ground beneath it in a tangle of arms and legs.
George managed to block the first blow to the face, got in a solid shot to the jaw but missed the second. A starburst of pain flared as a fist cracked against bone. They grappled in the snow. Even through the Kevlar the pain of the bullet impact site made it hard to breathe.
The woman’s surprisingly strong hands grabbed both wrists, then a cold, deadly male voice came from nearby in the shadows, carrying over the wind.
“Fucking move another muscle and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”
George froze, panting, brain struggling to process what was happening.
Caught. Fucking caught during an op. It was both unthinkable and humiliating.
Seconds later the man materialized out of the darkness. He moved with a menacing stealth, death written all over him, a pistol in his grip. “Put your goddamn hands where I can see ‘em,” he growled.
Still on top, the female agent relaxed her grip then let go of George’s wrists. But even with both hands free and the pistol mere feet away there was no way out of this. No way but death, and that wasn’t happening.
Fuck. Me.
Burning with rage that was at least half self-directed, George reluctantly rolled to her stomach and raised her hands above her head.
Chapter Nine
Matt buried his rage at seeing Briar tangling alone with the sniper and kept his finger steady on the pistol’s trigger. The bastard was small, with a slender build. He was facedown in the snow, both hands now behind his back as Briar secured them with a zip tie, but Matt didn’t trust him not to try and attack them both. Cornered animals were the most dangerous.
“You all right?” he asked Briar without looking at her. When he’d seen her tackle the guy he’d thought his heart would stop beating.
“Yeah.” She straddled the shooter’s waist and grabbed him by the shoulders to flip him over. Climbing off him, she rubbed a hand over her jaw, keeping an eye on him. “Got a light?” she asked Matt.
Holding the pistol steady, he stepped closer to cover her and reached one hand into his jacket pocket to take out a flashlight, aiming the beam at the tango’s head. The guy was clean shaven, and blinked against the brightness of the beam as Briar pulled off his knit cap and NVGs.
Her shocked gasp made every muscle in his body tighten.
In the sudden silence that enveloped them, Matt took his first good look at the tango’s face and did a mental double take. A woman? What the fuck? How the hell many female assassins were working in Colorado right now?
The woman had blond, shoulder-length hair and light blue eyes that were narrowed to slits as she glared defiantly up at Briar. There were two large bruises forming on her face, one on her right cheekbone and the other on the left side of her jaw. Briar kept staring at her, seeming too stunned to move.
Before Matt could say anything, she reached down to the woman’s waistband and yanked the left side down a few inches, exposing her skin. Whatever she found, it made her gasp again and jerk her gaze back to the woman’s face. “Georgia?” she said, clearly astonished.
Matt stared at them, a sense of foreboding sweeping over him. They knew each other?