Page 33 of Lethal Illusion (Six Points Security #8)

Navarre heard the high-pitched whir of the drone a few seconds before he spotted it hovering overhead.

It sounded more like a swarm of bees than high-tech surveillance equipment.

He had no idea what kind it was—that wasn’t his field of expertise.

But it was safe to say that it wasn’t here to enjoy the scenery.

Sloane’s gaze flicked upward. Her mouth fell open. “Do you think it’s looking for us?”

“Why else would it be flying around in the middle of nowhere?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No need to get snippy.”

She was right, but he wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge it. “If it spotted us, we’re about to have company.”

Her face paled. “And if it didn’t?”

“It’s only a matter of time before it does.” He released his hold of her and took a step back, because he liked the feel of her pressed against him a little too much.

“What do we do?” she asked.

Navarre peered up through a gap in the branches. The drone hovered above the tree line, its cameras undoubtedly focused on the forest below. An easy shot with a rifle, but the effective range of his pistol was much shorter, which increased the level of difficulty.

There was no way of knowing how long it had been in the area before he’d spotted it. More likely than not, it was also equipped with thermal sensors that could track them through the cover of the canopy and had already broadcast their location to its operator.

That needed to end right now.

“Cover your ears,” he told Sloane.

He raised his pistol and lined the drone in his sights, making slight adjustments for distance, wind speed, and bullet trajectory.

On the next exhale, he pressed the trigger, and the deafening crack of the bullet sent birds scattering.

The drone jerked hard to the left. It lost altitude but remained aloft, the whir of its propellers louder than before.

His second shot finished the job, and the drone dropped like a stone, snapping branches as it hurtled toward the earth.

It broke into pieces when it slammed to the ground not far from where they stood.

Navarre slid his pistol back into his shoulder holster. “Let’s go. We don’t know how long it’ll be before company arrives.”

If he had his rifle, he would have preferred to lay in wait and end things right then and there. But with only a pistol, limited ammunition, and a civilian he needed to protect at all costs, it made sense to err on the side of caution.

“Wait,” Sloane said. “I want to check something first.”

“We don’t have time.”

“It’ll only take a minute.” Not waiting for his response, she crossed the short distance to the downed drone and crouched beside it.

On the heels of a curse, Navarre took off after her, his pistol back out of its holster and his eyes searching the area for any indications they were no longer alone. Nothing so far, but that could change in an instant, and he didn’t want to be caught flat-footed.

As he approached, he saw Sloane picking something out of the debris field.

“What is it?” he asked.

She held up a mangled piece of black plastic. “It’s the drone’s serial number.”

He was about to make a sarcastic comment about the usefulness of that bit of information, but then understanding dawned on him, and he appreciated the fact she’d thought to look.

“Good job. That’ll come in handy when we get back.” Drones above a certain size had to be registered with the Federal Aviation Administration. If it was registered, which this one should be, they could learn the owner’s identity.

“Take a look at this.” She handed him the piece of plastic. “Check out the logo that’s stamped above the numbers and barcode. Look familiar?”

Navarre held it up to the light to get a better view, and recognition hit him like a freight train.

“Aw, shit.” It was the logo for Six Points Security, which meant he’d tagged a friendly, the first time in his entire career. Now he felt like the world’s biggest idiot, but how was he supposed to know? It wasn’t like he could read a logo from that far away.

As if reading his thoughts, Sloane said, “You did what you thought was best. There was no way for you to identify who the drone belonged to.”

It didn’t make him feel better, but it was nice that she’d tried.

“Any idea what the range is for one of these things?” Sloane asked.

“It depends on the type. Commercial drones have a range that’s anywhere between a few miles to a hundred. Military-grade drones can go a lot farther.”

“Well, at least we know they’re looking for us. And now there’s a good chance they know we’re alive, as well as our location.” Her face brightened with cautious hope as she stood and wiped her hands on the front of her jacket. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes, it is.” He stuffed the piece of plastic into his pocket. “We better get moving. The sound of gunfire carries a long way. If any of those mercs are within earshot, they’ll come investigate.”

Together, they traveled deeper into the forest. They doubled back once, creating a false trail, just in case anyone happened upon the drone and tried to follow their tracks.

All the while, the terrain grew more challenging, with steeper inclines, dense vegetation, and the occasional clearing that offered virtually no cover.

“You were right before,” Sloane said as they pushed through a thick patch of underbrush. She sounded breathless, and when he glanced over, he noticed her face was flushed. “I’ve never fired a gun.”

Navarre slowed their pace to give her a chance to catch her breath. “A lot of people haven’t.”

Though it wouldn’t be a bad idea for her to at least know the basics of handling a weapon, just in case something happened and he was no longer able to protect her. It was a grim thought, but you never knew what life might throw your way.

Satisfied they’d put enough distance between themselves and the drone, Navarre stopped to open his ruck and retrieved the gun he’d taken from the asshole who’d accosted Sloane.

After giving it a quick inspection to ensure it was in good operating condition, he removed the magazine from the pistol and ejected the round from the chamber.

It had been awhile since he’d taught a beginner. Most people he trained at Six Points had prior military experience. For them, it was a refresher course, a sharpening of skills, or an exercise in breaking bad habits.

“This is a Glock 17,” he told Sloane. “They’re popular because they’re relatively cheap and easy to operate.

It fires 9MM ammo, with the capacity to hold seventeen rounds in the magazine.

It’s powerful, but it’s only as effective as the person wielding it.

” He paused a moment to let her digest the knowledge before he continued.

“Always assume a gun is loaded, even if you know it’s not, and treat it accordingly.

That means pointing the barrel in a safe direction and keeping your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod.

He showed her the basics: how to load and unload the gun, how to advance a round into the chamber and clear a jam if it happened, and how to turn the safety on and off. When she seemed comfortable with all of that, he taught her about grip and shooting stance.

“Like this?” She mimicked his standard shooting position.

He nodded, a smile curving his lips. “Yes, very good. Now raise the gun to the target—in this case, we’ll use that tree over there. Make sure not to lock your elbows, because that bend will act as a shock absorber every time you fire a round.”

She overcompensated on the bending of elbows, holding the gun so close she’d never be able to properly sight a target. He lightly wrapped his hands around her wrists, extending her arms to the proper position, and there it was again, that hum in his blood that he felt whenever he touched her.

After showing her how to align the sights, he had her do a dry fire, which was pulling the trigger when the gun was unloaded. Then he asked her to load the weapon and advance a bullet into the chamber.

“Normally, this would be the part where I’d have you fire a few rounds, but that would risk giving away our position, so we’ll save it for another time.” He held out his hand, and she gave him the weapon.

“Thank you,” she said as he verified the safety was on and put the gun back in his ruck.

“There’s nothing to thank me for. I should have shown you earlier.”

He slid the straps over his shoulders, and they resumed their trek through the forest. According to his map, they had another couple of hours or so before they reached the road that led to town.

“When we get back, can we go to the range?” Sloane asked. “You know, so I’m better prepared if the situation ever arises.”

“Sure. Once we get you up to speed with a pistol, we’ll move on to rifles. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be able to field strip an AR blindfolded.”

She slanted him a dubious look. “I don’t think we need to take it that far.”

Navarre chuckled as he pushed a branch aside so she could walk past.

“Just remember, never point a gun unless you intend to shoot, and never shoot unless you intend to kill. Always aim for the center of mass.” For emphasis, he tapped the space between his pecs. “None of that going-for-the-leg crap you see on TV.” That shit drove him crazy.

They settled into a companionable silence for the next mile or so, until they reached a small stream at the base of a hill. Navarre took the opportunity to refill their water bottle. He added purification tablets and put the bottle back in his ruck.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sloane said as he stood.

“That depends on the question.”

The look on her face made it clear she was choosing her words carefully. “Those men you shot yesterday. I assume they weren’t your first.”

“No. They weren’t.” Not by a long shot, though he didn’t know the actual number. In his experience, it was better not to keep track.

“Do you regret any of them?”