Ghostwalker 04 - Conspiracy Game

deserved to be tortured like he had been. She took a deep breath. Are you a good shot?
    Jack looked at her. You aren’t going to do anything stupid.
    You’re going to pass out, tough guy. I know the signs. We don’t have all that much time and we can’t afford him behind us. I’m a good shot—but… She hesitated.
    Jack’s hand tightened on the nape of her neck. Whatever you’re thinking—don’t.
    Briony knew they couldn’t outwait the sniper. Jack was going to pass out. How he’d rallied enough to know what was going on was beyond her. I’m thinking I’m scared.
    Don’t be. I’ll get you out of this. See those trees to our right? I’m going to cover you.
    You do a slow crawl to the trees and get into the branches. Use the branches to make it to the river. Keep your skin camouflaged and don’t draw attention to yourself. Jack slipped her the handgun. You know how to use this thing?
    Briony hesitated then put her hand over the gun. There was no way to explain to him what the aftermath of violence could do to her. Feeling someone’s emotions, feeling them die would bring a total meltdown. On the other hand, she was well trained, an expert marksman, and she believed in self-defense. I know how to use it.
    He turned toward the region of forest where he was certain the sniper followed them. On his belly, eye to the scope, he waved her forward. Go. Get out of here. Don’t stop moving until you’re safe in your room.
    Briony inched her way through the ferns and rotting leaves, her heart pounding overly loud. She detested being a coward, wondering why, with all her special skills, she was always so afraid. She made it to the trees and crouched in the deepest shadows, studying the branches and vines for the best shelter, for the best position. With her extraordinary night vision, she was able to see some twenty-five feet up and over two trees, to a particularly large tree trunk with an umbrella of branches spreading in every direction, perfect for her needs.
    Briony leapt to the lowest branch of the nearest tree and began to climb swiftly. She was slight, her body made for the aerial acts she’d practiced since she was a toddler. It was easy to use the vines to pull herself through the trees until she reached the tree beside the one with the larger, thicker trunk. She had taken care to stay hidden within the foliage when she climbed, but now she deliberately reached out and shook a branch, not too hard, just enough to give away her position.
    What the hell are you doing?
    Drawing his fire to give you a target.
    You do that again and I swear I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.
    She could hear the menace prowling through his declaration—but felt it was an empty threat. Jack was a scary man, but he wasn’t a man who would ever beat a woman—just the opposite in fact—unless she was the enemy. She’d caught that information in his mind.
    Well, I’m not leaving you behind. Get ready to shoot something because I’m going to let him see me.
    Damn it. Just damn it.
    Helpless male rage filled her mind, but she didn’t wait—couldn’t wait. Her courage was going to fail if she didn’t act right then. Briony allowed the branch of the tree to sway just a little more, as if something heavy had stepped onto it. There was no wind in the forest, and the movement would draw the eye of the sniper instantly. Briony leapt to the next tree, sheltering behind the wide trunk, just as the bullet sent splinters of bark showering over her.
    Several pieces embedded in her arm and one in her chin. On the heels of the first shot came the second.
    Tell me you’re all right.
    Briony clung to the tree, forcing her knees to be stiff when her legs had turned to rubber.
    The bullet had hit only inches from her head. The sniper had fired a lot faster than she’d anticipated. She sagged against the trunk and waited for her body to stop shaking. Blood trickled from the stinging wounds, but the splinters were mere scratches when it could have been so much worse. Did you get him?
    Stay still. There were two of them. I took out the sniper, but his spotter is just as capable.
    You aren’t hit. Jack made it a statement as he kept his eye to the scope, waiting for a shot at the spotter. He detested the fact that he was distracted by worry. He was worried about her.
    Answer me now or I’m coming to you. He would too. He’d risk getting shot just to make certain there wasn’t a scratch on her body—at least not one he