Page 59 of Trigger Discipline

Everything was going to hell in a handbasket, and nothing was guaranteed.

He tried not to think about the scope of it all. Of what any of it meant, long term. His home, his parents—no, focus. There was no time for that.

There had been many times in Gabriel’s career when it didn’t look good. When he was convinced he would die with dirt in his mouth and his dog tags rusting in some foreign soil. But it had never been like this. Thiswasn’tforeign soil. But it didn’t matter. He had priorities.

Because this time, it wasn’t just him. It was his team.

It was Blake.

When Gabriel had been dropped into DC, his mission had been clear, but now it had changed. Blake was his new priority. He didn’t have a reason for it. And it certainly didn’t make sense.

Blake was his. And he would punch E.T. right in the fucking face to get him back.

CHAPTER 17

CROSSFIRE

The .50 cal spat out gleaming rounds of brass as the skinny National Guardsman held on for dear life. His entire body vibrated with the effects of the gun, legs braced, and head bowed. Well placed rounds were chewing through the ranks of FUDs prowling along the street. Handlers were placed strategically behind the four-legged aliens, shooting towards the mass of Guardsmen with precision.

Gabriel swore when he saw the scene.

Scott was hovering over the steering wheel, one eye closed against the pain from the concussion. The National Guard Unit was backed up against the river. They had nowhere to go, and a horde of FUDs and Handlers were pushing in on them. Behind the line of trucks, the soldiers were using as a makeshift barricade, a group of ragged-looking civilians were hunkered down. Hands over their heads, covered in debris and blood.

It was going to be a slaughter.

Priority needed to be getting the heat off the Guard Unit so they could safely evacuate the civilians.

“Phin, need you to lay down some serious cover fire. We need those big bastards to look at us.”

Phin pocketed some of the extra magazines Scott gave them, tossing a couple to Gabriel. “Really saved us with the extra ammo. Where did you get it?” he called forward.

Scott scowled as he flicked on the lights and sirens, accelerating into the street. “Pulled it off my dead squadmates.”

Phin grimaced. “Bet you’re really fun at parties,” he mumbled just before he broke the back window, clearing the glass out and laying his rifle against the window, sighting it. The moment they screeched onto the street, he began firing. Between the gun and the buffeting wind from the open window, it was impossible to hear anything.

The aliens immediately turned to assess the new threat. One Handler seemed to stumble back as Phin’s rounds struck its head and face area. A drone whizzed by just as a FUD turned to pounce. It barely missed as Scott swerved, jumping up onto the curb with two wheels.

Gabriel couldn’t see out the back of the ambulance, but he could hear Phin’s swearing. Tommy was just behind him, offering him fresh magazines from the pile at his feet. It was getting smaller by the second. They couldn’t keep wasting ammo like this.

The aliens advanced toward the National Guard, the civilians had slowed but not stopped. Several soldiers were running backwards, helping the civilians get into a minivan with a flat tire. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

An explosion sent the ambulance skidding sideways. Gabriel gagged on the smell of burning rubber.

“We’re on fire!” Tommy shouted from the back, bracing himself on the stretcher.

Gabriel looked up just in time to see a Handler level it’s twin guns at them. “We’ve got bigger problems! Scott!”

The National Guardsman snarled, slamming on the brakes as he cut the wheel. It was a near miss, the back bumper of the ambulance shuddering as it spun into a building.

Phin and Tommy were thrown to the ground. Thesmell of burning rubber intensified, and when Gabriel looked back, he saw the back door of the ambulance being eaten away by the incendiary round. It looked like napalm as the metal dissolved under the extreme heat.

With a grunt of pain, Phin pushed himself up. Grabbing onto the bars fastened to the ceiling, he kicked at the back door. The melted hinges gave, and the door dropped to the street. Phin dropped to his knees, panting. Blood was pooling on the textured floor of the ambulance. Tommy was beside him, yanking at his leg to get a visual of the wound.

Phin tried to protest, but his face was pale, and he gasped when Tommy touched something.

“It’s his knee,” Tommy said grimly.

“How bad?” Gabriel shouted back, moving so he could glance in the rearview mirrors. For the moment, the aliens seemed to have deemed them incapacitated and were back to advancing on the barking .50 cal at the end of the street.