Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

fast, Jonas keeping pressure on his side to avoid leaving a blood trail.
    A shout and one wild shot told them they were being pursued. As he wove his way around the buildings, Jonas tried to recall the details they'd filmed. It had all happened so fast. At first the men were talking and laughing. No one particularly special, not anyone from a rival family involved. And suddenly the Gadiyan brothers and Karl Tarasov had joined the small meeting. They'd been back in the shadows where Jonas couldn't see.
    The men had instantly come to attention. And who wouldn't with that kind of clout around. When Boris and Petr Tarasov had showed up, everything still seemed ordinary—friendly. There had been no warning when Karl had yanked one man out of the group and Petr had shot him.
    Jonas wished he could conjure up the details of the man who had come to warn the Russians. He'd walked up fast, his face covered and averted, hat pulled low, large dark glasses in place although it was very dark out. He had known the camera was on them—and that meant someone on the inside. They had a traitor in the defense department—someone paid by the Russian mob.
    Had he captured the traitor's face? Jonas doubted it. He'd tried to, even panning down to pick up the shoes, but then all hell had broken loose. The group of men had all turned toward them, there had been a shout from behind the group, orders barked out in Russian. The men had started firing, pinning them down. Karl Tarasov made his way to their car to blow out their tires and kill their driver.
    Something terrible had welled up in Jonas when he saw Karl shoot Terry in the head.
    He didn't even remember stepping out from behind cover, only the rage that had overwhelmed him. Less than half an hour earlier he'd been talking to Terry about his family, the mother he loved and supported, about his wife pregnant with their first child, the fun he had keeping up his driving skills, still able to do the work he loved without risking too much. Fortunately, Jonas had been in a dark shadow and Jackson had yanked him back as the bullets plowed into him.
    Hell. Jonas wanted to hit something all over again. How many kids had he seen die?
    For nothing. For power or money or somebody else's ideology. His vision blurred and he touched his face, shocked when his fingers came away wet. He was too damned old for this. What was he doing?
    Jackson dropped a hand on his shoulder, and they both halted, crouching low. "You can't save them all," he reminded him quietly.
    Jonas didn't respond. Hell, no, he knew that, but he should have been watching out for Terry. He was weary of death and ugliness, of the mess people made of the world.
    And he was damned tired of running. "You sure on the count?"
    "I saw four, but they aren't the ones behind us. I'm only hearing two and they aren't very quiet, definitely not Karl or the Gadiyan brothers. We've got two others circling around trying to get in front of us. I think the big guns are pulling out and leaving the expendables behind."
    Jonas checked the loads in his gun. "Why would they do that?"
    "They tore up the hospital. Someone had to have called the cops," Jackson said as they rounded a corner. He stopped running and signaled Jonas to keep going.
    A bullet hit the wall behind them and plaster rained down on them. Both hit the ground rolling for cover. Jackson went to the left and managed to lie flat behind a low wall of bricks, and Jonas crawled his way through a thin hedge to crouch behind a small outcropping on a utility building.
    "Did you see where it came from?" Jackson asked, his gaze coolly quartering the surrounding area.
    "Nope. But I think he was above us from the angle of the shot." And that wasn't good.
    The shooter would have better vision.
    "My thoughts exactly. Cover me." Jackson scooted fast along the brick wall, until he came to a small opening. "Ready?"
    Jonas took his gun in a two-handed grip, finger on the trigger. "Go." He kept his eyes on the roof of the small utility building.

    Jackson was up and over the wall, avoiding the opening, but diving into a hedge that lined the narrow walkway right beneath the building where they were certain the shooter hid.
    Jonas kept his gun steady, finger taking up the slack. A flash of movement above their heads and he pulled the trigger, a steady, one-two-three barrage of shots. A body teetered for a moment and then tumbled from the roof, gun landing on the metal and sliding down to the ground.
    Jonas