Page 6 of The Sniper (Club Southside #9)

CHAPTER SIX

DANIELS

T he sound of the gunshot tore through the alley, sharp and unforgiving. Daniels’s body reacted, surging forward as he grabbed Reyna and pulled her against him. They hit the ground hard, the rough pavement scraping against his palms as he rolled to shield her. A second shot. The sharp clang of metal hitting the dumpster behind them confirmed what he’d feared—a sniper had them in his sights.

“Stay down!” he barked, his voice low but commanding. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he scanned the darkened rooftops for movement.

Reyna twisted beneath him, her breathing fast but steady. “I had it under control.”

“Sure, you did,” he growled, keeping her pinned as he pulled his sidearm from its holster. “You always do until someone puts a bullet in you.”

“Daniels,” she hissed, her tone sharp. “Let me up.”

“Not yet.” He tightened his grip on her, his eyes narrowing as he caught the faintest flicker of movement in the shadows above. There.

The sniper wasn’t sticking around. He’d tried for them, missed, and now was moving, retreating across the rooftops with practiced ease. Daniels felt a surge of frustration twist in his gut. He wanted to pursue, to drag the bastard off his perch and get some answers, but he couldn’t risk leaving Reyna exposed.

“Do you see him?” Reyna asked, her voice calmer now, more controlled.

Daniels nodded, still scanning the rooftops. “He’s retreating. Probably has backup.”

She pushed against him again, and this time he let her up, though his hands stayed close, ready to grab her if she so much as thought about doing something reckless. She dusted herself off, her expression tight as she retrieved her knife from where it had fallen during the scuffle.

“We can’t let him get away,” she said, her voice clipped.

Daniels shook his head, his gaze locked on the rooftop where the sniper had disappeared. “He’s got the advantage up there. We go after him now, we’re walking into a trap.”

Reyna opened her mouth to argue, but the look he shot her stopped her cold. It wasn’t just the look of a man giving an order—it was the look of a man who wasn’t about to lose someone else on his watch.

“Fine,” she said, reluctantly stepping back. “But we need to move. If he left anything behind, it won’t stay there long.”

Daniels nodded, his mind already racing as he led her toward the end of the alley. As they passed where Reyna had been fighting the men a piece of paper caught his eye,

The writing was faint, scrawled in what looked like pencil, but the message was clear enough:

This isn’t over. We’re always watching.

Daniels’ jaw tightened as he stared at the note, his mind racing. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to confirm what he’d suspected. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just targeting Reyna or Cerberus—they were playing a much bigger game, one that was far from finished.

Reyna leaned over his shoulder, her breath warm against his ear as she read the note. “Always watching,” she murmured. “That’s comforting.”

“Comforting isn’t the word I’d use,” Daniels muttered, tucking the note into his pocket as he stood. His eyes scanned the alley again, but the sniper was long gone. They’d lost their lead, and the frustration gnawed at him like a dull ache.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his tone curt. “We’ll regroup at Cerberus.”

Reyna hesitated, her gaze flicking toward the rooftops. “We can’t just let him go.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Daniels said, his voice firm. “Not now. Let’s take my vehicle.”

“Why? I can drive myself.”

“Well for one thing, whoever sent the sniper might have planted an explosive device or some kind of tracking device on your SUV. I would feel better if we had it checked out before you get inside it again.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she followed him out of the alley, her footsteps quick and quiet beside his. The friction between them crackled like static, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air as they made their way to his vehicle.

As soon as they were inside, with the doors locked and the engine running, Daniels turned to face her. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Reyna’s eyes flashed, her posture stiffening. “I was thinking I could handle myself.”

“This isn’t about handling yourself,” Daniels said, his voice rising despite his effort to keep it steady. “You walked into a dangerous situation alone, without backup, without intel. You could’ve been killed.”

“I didn’t ask you to save me,” she snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut.

“You called me, remember? But that’s not the point!” Daniels slammed his hand against the steering wheel, his frustration boiling over. “The point is you keep acting like you don’t need anyone, like you’re invincible, and it’s going to get you killed.”

Reyna’s gaze locked onto his, her expression hard. “You think I don’t know the risks? You think I haven’t been doing this long enough to understand what’s at stake?”

“I think you’re reckless,” Daniels shot back. “And I think you’re using that recklessness to avoid dealing with whatever the hell is eating at you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he thought she was going to punch him. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You don’t know me, Daniels.”

“I know enough,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I know you push people away because it’s easier than letting them in. And I know you’re lying to yourself if you think you don’t need help.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t respond. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged, until Daniels released the tension from his body, breathing out slowly and allowing his shoulders to sag ever so slightly.

“I’m not trying to control you, Reyna,” he said, his tone softening. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Her gaze flicked to him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the only sound the low hum of the engine as they idled in the empty street.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she said finally, her voice quieter now.

Daniels shook his head. “I’m not sure I agree, but I do know you need someone watching your six. Whether you like it or not, that’s going to be me.”

Her jaw worked, as if she was weighing her response, but in the end, she just nodded. It wasn’t an agreement for help, not really, but it was enough for now.

Daniels shifted the vehicle into gear, his focus returning to the road ahead. The night wasn’t over, and the fight was far from finished. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just watching—they were planning. And Daniels wasn’t about to let them get the upper hand.

Not while Reyna’s life was on the line. Not while she was his to protect, whether she wanted to be or not.

The club downstairs was alive with music and energy, but the Cerberus offices above it were quiet, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the sound of running water from the small wet bar sink at the back of the conference room. Daniels stood by the counter, wringing out a cloth before heading back to the worn couch where Reyna sat, her leg stretched out in front of her. Her stockings were torn just above the knee, and stained dark with blood. She’d insisted she was fine, but the grim set of her jaw told a different story.

“You need to stop moving,” Daniels said, his tone low but firm as he knelt in front of her, enlarging the tear.

“I’m fine,” Reyna replied, though the hiss of pain that escaped her lips when he dabbed at the gash said otherwise.

“Fine doesn’t bleed like this,” Daniels countered, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice. He worked carefully, cleaning the wound with steady hands. The cut was deep, but not deep enough to require stitches. Still, seeing her blood, feeling her wince under his touch—it was enough to stir something primal inside him. Something protective. Something he didn’t want to name.

Reyna leaned back against the couch, her head tilting slightly as she watched him. “You always this gentle, or am I just special?”

Daniels glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You’re special, all right. Special enough to make me question my sanity.”

A hint of a grin tugged at the corner of her lips, but it faded quickly. She shifted, her fingers brushing against the edge of the couch as if she needed something to hold onto. “You don’t have to do this. I’ve patched myself up plenty of times.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Daniels said, his voice softer now. He wrung out the cloth again and set it aside before reaching for the bandages. “You keep acting like you’re alone, but you’re not.”

Reyna didn’t respond, her gaze dropping to the floor. The silence between them was heavy, charged with unspoken words neither of them were willing to speak.

Daniels cleared his throat, focusing on wrapping the bandage around her leg. The act was methodical, but his mind drifted back to the first time they’d worked together. Back to a mission that had tested every ounce of trust he’d had in her.

It had been five years ago, in a small village on the outskirts of Bogotá. The target was a high-ranking member of a cartel who’d been using the area as a hub for smuggling weapons. It was supposed to be a simple extraction—get in, grab the target, and get out. But things had gone sideways fast.

Daniels had been pinned down in a crumbling shack, the sound of gunfire echoing through the narrow streets. His team had been scattered, and the extraction point was a pipe dream. Then Reyna had shown up, a knife in one hand and a sidearm in the other, her expression calm despite the chaos around her.

“You look like you could use some help,” she’d said, her voice carrying over the noise.

“You’re late,” Daniels had shot back, though relief had surged through him at the sight of her.

“Had to make an entrance,” she’d replied, firing off two quick shots and taking down the men blocking their path.

She’d moved like a shadow, her body fluid and precise as she cleared a path for them to escape. But it wasn’t until they’d reached the rendezvous point, bloody and breathless, that Daniels had realized just how much he’d trusted her. Trusted her to watch his back. Trusted her to get them out alive.

“Not bad,” he’d said as they boarded the extraction vehicle.

Reyna had raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “You sound surprised.”

“Not surprised,” Daniels had replied, his voice steady. “Just impressed.”

She’d tilted her head, a small flicker of something passing through her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

He’d laughed then, a rare sound, and for the first time, he’d realized just how dangerous she was—not because of her skill, but because of the way she made him feel. Like she was the only person he could count on. Like she was the only person who saw him for who he really was.

“You’re quiet,” Reyna said, pulling Daniels back to the present. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and it caught him off guard.

“Just thinking,” he replied, securing the last of the bandage. He sat back on his heels, his gaze meeting hers. “About Bogotá.”

Reyna tilted her head, her lips curving slightly. “That was a mess.”

“It was,” Daniels agreed. “But we made it out. Because you had my back.”

Her smile faded, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable. “And you had mine.”

A palpable tension hung in the air, a silent hum that vibrated between them, thick and suffocating. Daniels stood slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached for her hand. She let him take it, her fingers cool against his palm. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental.

“Reyna,” he said, his voice low. “You don’t have to do this alone. Whatever this is—whatever they’re trying to do to you and Cerberus—we’ll figure it out.”

Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, he thought she might say something. But then she nodded, her grip on his hand tightening ever so slightly. It wasn’t a declaration, but it was enough.

Daniels stepped back, giving her space as he moved to the small table where their gear was spread out. The note they’d found in the alley lay there, along with the photos of Veda and the collar from the crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he studied the photos again, his mind piecing together the fragments of the puzzle.

“Veda was careful,” Reyna said, breaking the silence. “She didn’t take risks, not like this.”

“Someone forced her hand,” Daniels said, his voice steady. He picked up the note, the cryptic message still gnawing at him. “But why? What were they trying to tell us?”

Reyna leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she stared at the photos. “The collar. It wasn’t hers, but it was deliberate. Someone wanted us to see it.”

Daniels nodded, his jaw tightening. “You recognized it.”

“Yes. We’ve seen ones like it before. That part Harris did get right, it’s the same kind used by the Obsidian Cartel. They wanted us to know she was connected to them. This wasn’t random.”

Reyna’s gaze flicked to the note, her brow furrowing before she continued. “What if it’s not a message for Cerberus? What if it’s a warning?”

Daniels frowned, the pieces clicking into place. “You think they’re targeting others in the community?”

“It’s possible,” Reyna said, her voice grim. “If Veda knew something she shouldn’t have, she wouldn’t have been the only one.”

Daniels exhaled, his mind racing. The stakes were higher than he’d realized, and the clock was ticking. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just coming for Cerberus—they were coming for everyone tied to Veda’s secret.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice firm. He turned to Reyna, his gaze steady. “But you’re not going into this alone. Not this time.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but she stopped herself, her expression softening. “Okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniels nodded, a flicker of relief coursing through him. For now, it was enough. But as he glanced at the photos on the table, the enormity of what might lie ahead coiled tightly in his chest. The danger wasn’t over—it was just beginning. And this time, he wasn’t sure if even he could keep Reyna safe.