The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

Taking the Glock and magazines from Sarge, Hayes thanked him. “Right, now we’ve evened the score a bit, what now? Where do you want us?” She heard the tannoy guy out front say they had ten seconds until all offers were revoked.

“You’re kidding, right?” Marlowe moaned. “You’re handing out guns, and you’re really not going to give one to me? Hey, I have a right to protect myself.”

“No! You’re a murdering scumbag, you deserve to die.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes and glared at Marlowe until he backed down once more. “Can I have a pistol, please, Hayes? I want to shoot this one in his ugly fucking face.”

“Will you two behave; neither of you are getting your hands on a gun, is that clear? We’ve got bigger things to be worrying about.” Hayes stepped up to the window again, as the mercenary in charge declared a breach, and his group fanned out. One of them walked past the window. “How about I go upstairs with Miller, Charlotte and Marlowe?”

Sarge nodded. “That’s probably the best idea. There’s ten down here.”

“And the others on the roof,” Hayes said to Miller, taking Charlotte’s hand. She strode out of the bar, into the hallway. Heading upstairs, Hayes arrived on the landing, looking right and left. “Let’s split up?”

“I’ll go left with Marlowe,” Miller confirmed, giving her a little ‘good luck’ smile. “Be careful, and remember: take them down – because they won’t show you mercy, okay? Head shots.” She walked away.

“Come on, Charlotte, let’s find a safe hiding place for you,” she said, taking hold of her hand again. Hayes heard movement above them and let go of Charlotte. “They’re trying to smash their way in through the roof.”

She didn’t realise how big the hotel was. There were so many bedrooms on the first floor. Passing several, she chose one, turned the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn’t. “They must have unlocked all the doors for the inspection. Shit!” she whispered to Charlotte.

Inside the spacious bedroom, Hayes closed the door, looking around for something to use to jam it. A high-backed chair would be nice about now. Nope. Nothing. There wasn’t time to sort it, so she ordered Charlotte behind the bed. “Stay there, okay?”

With Charlotte hiding, Hayes set about finding something to use to lock the door. The room was devoid of all things useful. Before she had the chance to wedge it with something, she heard the first gunshot, just a single shot, not an exchange. She gulped, walked backwards towards the bed with her pistol pointed at the door.

Charlotte sat on the floor the other side of the bed. Hayes joined her and knelt with her arms resting on the floral duvet, the Glock in both hands trained at the door. Outside in the hall she heard noises, footsteps.

Breathing shallow, Hayes closed her left eye, looking at the sight when the door handle turned. She held her breath. The door opened slowly.

Seeing the intruder’s kneecap in sight, she pulled the trigger, as the noise of the gunshot reverberated around the room, making her ears ring.

The black-clad intruder fell, letting off a couple of shots from his carbine into the ceiling.

Getting up, she pointed the gun at his head. “Move and I’ll blow your brains out, understood?” She walked round the bed, saw his MP5, and picked it up, putting the pistol in the back of her suit trousers.

Hayes stepped up to him, took his helmet off while he was screaming in pain, and belted him with the butt of her carbine, knocking him unconscious. “Come on! Give me a hand locking him in the bathroom.”

71

Walker squatted behind a chair in the dining room. There were a dozen tables he could have chosen. The table he chose was near the glass patio door, giving him the best view of the incoming mercenaries.

No amount of training could prepare him for this. He’d been involved in several tactical operations, had fired his carbine once, but never had he shot someone before. There was no doubt he would that evening; they were on their way in.

With Sarge in the bar, and Vodicka in the lounge, they had most bases covered, except the hotel was too big for the three of them to handle themselves. His radio hissed, then he heard a female voice ordering all units to converge on the hotel. “Backup’s on its way! We just have to survive until they arrive!”

No one replied. He didn’t have time to dwell on it. A figure in black holding a machine gun stepped in front of the patio door, glass the only barrier between them.

Raising his carbine to eye level, Walker kept him in his sights, his finger on the trigger, ready for action. He swallowed, hard, making a noise. “Shit!” he muttered. Sweat formed on his lip. He didn’t want to kill anyone.

The mercenary tried the door handle.

When it wouldn’t open, he stood back, pointed the carbine at the glass and fired.

Without flinching at the noise, Walker stood, kept the mercenary’s face in his sights, and squeezed the trigger, letting off one round.

The bullet hit his target in the cheek. He fell to his knees, dropped the MP5, and fell onto his face, dead.

Walker stood, stunned for a moment, while his brain processed the information. He’d just killed a man. By law, it wasn’t murder. He had a defence if it came to that in court. The guy would have killed him given the chance. “Sarge! How’re you getting on back there?”

Upstairs, he heard gunshots.

Turning his attention back to the broken patio door, another figure in black appeared.

He didn’t have time to hide.

Before his enemy had a chance to fire, Walker squeezed the trigger five times, hitting the hired gun in the chest three times, once in the neck and once in the eye. The mercenary fell on his back, his legs twitching from the sudden brain trauma.

Walker made a move for the lounge,