Page 100 of Enemy of My Enemy

Sasha grabbed his finger, stilling Sergey. “Hush.”

Ethan sat up, staring into the darkness with Sasha. Jack’s hands trailed down his back.

There. Just barely, but there. He could hear the soft whoosh of helicopter blades, of a near-silent attack aircraft buzzing low over the sea.

Sasha whirled, his eyes wide. “Yours?”

Ethan shook his head. “Everyone get inside!” he shouted. “Now!”

Splashes tore through the sea, geysers leaping from the surface as bullets spat from the stealth helicopter, aiming right for them. Short by a few feet, the gunner adjusted, and the bullets chewed up the end of the deck just shy of where they lay.

Wood splintered through the air.

Jack’s glass of whiskey hit the deck, shattering.

Ethan pushed Jack up, throwing him toward the house and running behind to shield him. Sasha did the same for Sergey, curling over his back as they ran.

Men burst from within the retreat, Scott, Daniels, Welby, and more of their agents alongside bellowing Russian Presidential Security Services men, rushing toward Sergey and Sasha. Overhead, twin fighter jets screeched, roaring when they banked. A silent moment as Ethan spotted the silver silhouettes bearing down on them.

“Get down!” he hollered. “Get down now!”

He threw Jack to the ground and covered him. Another heavy weight landed on top of him, and he saw Daniels’s face next to his own. Jack cursed, and to their left, Sergey shouted in furious Russian.

The patio lights shorted out, plunging the rear of the retreat into darkness.

Gunshots cracked, Scott and his men taking aim at the incoming fighters. The Russian security agents went full auto with their rifles, filling the sky with bullets.

Jack jerked beneath Ethan at the sound of the gunfire.

“Hang on, Jack,” Ethan whispered. “Hang on.”

The fighter jets fired back at the Russian agents, heavy guns tearing through the men, the patio, and the retreat. Glass shattered, exploding. Shards peppered the back of Ethan’s neck, tiny cuts opening with bitter stings. Smoke and gunpowder hung in the air, and the burn of hot metal and jet fuel as the fighters pulled up into the sky, turning for another pass over the sea.

“Go, go!” Scott shouted, grabbing at Daniels and Ethan. “Go!”

They clambered to their feet and stepped over the shot-up bodies of the Russian security agents. Sergey moved with Sasha at his side, and they raced through the blood-covered patio and into the dark retreat. Gaping holes punctured the retreat’s frame, wounds from the fighters’ attack. Glass crunched underfoot. Plaster hung in the air, gritty on the tongue and between the teeth.

Flashlights bounced over the walls, men running. Shouted Russian and English flew, radio static bursting from handhelds as more agents from both Russia and the US moved together.

Welby ran to Scott, covering Irwin, bleeding from his forehead. “Rees is dead. His room was destroyed,” he said, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the din. Ethan caught Scott’s eyes, shining in the dark.

“Power’s been cut.” Scott pressed his back to the wall and quickly ducked around the corner and into the industrial kitchen. He cleared the room and motioned for Daniels to bring Ethan and Jack in, along with Irwin. The rest of the agents formed a ring around them, a human wall, as Scott peered out at the destruction engulfing the retreat.

Ethan squeezed Jack’s hand before slipping out of the ring of agents, sharing a long look with Agent Beech. Ethan headed for Scott, even though Scott sent him a furious look over his shoulder.

In the destroyed main room, Sasha hovered at Sergey’s side. He’d picked up a rifle from one of the dead agents on the way in, and he held it up and ready to fire. The Russian agents who were still standing took positions at the destroyed windows, kicking aside shattered glass and kneeling behind what was left of the walls.

Shouting echoed from the front of the house. More gunshots. In the distance, sirens wailed.

“Baker team, come in,” Scott hissed into his wrist mic. “Baker team, respond.”

Ethan swallowed as Scott looked him in the eye and shook his head. Baker team had been in charge of covering the front of the retreat and the private drive up to their location, along with the presidential vehicles.

More agents down. More agents dead. His friends, once his family.

“Haunted House, Ghost Six,” Scott said again, his voice edged with steel, this time to the Secret Service control unit holding at the airport with Air Force One. “We’ve got a situation.”

“Ghost Six, so do we.”Ethan and Scott shared a quick look.