Page 101 of The Sniper
“Going to wood!”I yell, warning Ryder that the suspects are readying their weapons.
Then everything happens.
Eight (not four!) men simultaneously lift their weapons into the air and start shooting.Their faces are now masked.
Ryder screamsget down, get downand guests clamber off their seats and drop to the ground.
Tiffany screams and wobbles on her heels as two men leap up on stage and grab her.“Oh God, let me go!”
“Shut up, or I will blow your brains out.”
Those motherfuckers.
My trigger finger is primed and ready, but I am a fully trained sniper, so make use of every single millisecond to keep her safe.
“Stay back,” the other one turns and points his weapon at Noah, who has run halfway down the runway.
I set my site on the man holding the gun at Tiffany’s head and wait to get a clear shot.He’s moving too much.
It’s too great a risk.
I could kill her instead.
If he would just...stay...still.My bullet will take him out in zero-point-five seconds.
BHS Warriors are in a Mexican standoff with the others, but my focus remains on Tiffany, who is shaking like a leaf.
I hear sirens and people whimpering, that’s when I realize Ryder still has me on the call.
“Boss.”
I hear a faintyup.
“Get down on your knees.”The man yells to someone, and I suspect it’s Noah.Last time I saw him, his Glock was pointed at the mask-clad men.“Toss that over here.”
Not anymore.
Still with the moving.This asshole won’t stay still, and Tiffany is wobbling about.
“Time to lose the necklace, Ms.Stallone,” I hear faintly, along with a dark chuckle.
What the hell?
When I lift my head, I see a man striding confidently down the runway.He’s not armed, and that speaks volumes.Whoever he is, he feels untouchable and powerful.
Fuck...they could take her hostage.
Eye back on the scope, I line one of the men up.It’s now or never, I know this in my bones.
“Have them in my sight.”I tell Ryder.“Give me the go ahead.”
“Mafia,” Ryder mutters.“Gotta be.”
“No,” I reply.“Bratva.”
I figured that out once the first man spoke.I heard a Russian accent.
“Fuck.”
