Training and long experience had kept him immobile despite his shock. The rifle sights were still centered on his target.

He softly pulled the trigger.

Nabera dropped like a rock.

One.

Hawk aimed at his second target—the leftmost PZ guard in the road. Pulled.

Two down.

Before Hawk could move to the other guard, someone took the bastard out.

Fine, then.

Hawk went for his fourth choice, the PZ near the center of the SUVs. With the floodlights on, Milo’s shiny scalp was easy to see. Damn him, he was shooting at Bull and Kit.

A wave of fury seared along Hawk’s nerves. Was Milo the bastard who’d shot her?

Die.

Hawk breathed out. Pulled.

Milo, aka Lieutenant Conrad, wouldn’t be doing any more carpentry.

Hawk’s next shot took out Luka.

And then the entire area erupted with gunfire.

Grief bitter in his mouth, Hawk glanced at Bull. Still flattened in the dubious cover of the ditch with Kit beneath him.

But…wait.

Had she moved? Was she…squirming?

She was alive.

Dear heavens, she couldn’t breathe! Gasping for air, Kit tried to move but was totally pinned down. Was she buried? Was she dead?

“Stay put, Kit.”

Bull’s deep voice came from just over her head. She could barely hear him what with the shooting.

Oh. He was on top of her, pressing her into the dirt.

No wonder she could barely pull in a breath, and her shoulder hurt like heck. But she was alive to complain.

She blinked. “Where’s Nabera?”

“Dead,” Bull muttered. “I’m guessing Hawk got loose.”

As hope rose inside her, so did her fears.

Because all around them, it sounded like World War III had begun.

Lying in the brush to one side of the road, Gabe grinned at the sweet effectiveness of one of the finest snipers he’d ever known.

The hawk was flying free. In fact, he’d beat Gabe to killing Nabera by a fraction of a second, then taken out one of the two guards without missing a beat. Gabe got the other.

Despite heavy fire from the Hermitage, Kit and Bull were still in a lot of danger. The PZs were after revenge for Nabera’s death.

Gabe turned his rifle toward the SUVs. He’d get as many shots off as possible before his muzzle flash would pinpoint his location and end his effectiveness.

Suddenly, headlights of multiple vehicles barreled down their private road, drawing up behind the white cargo van. Doors were slamming and a hailstorm of shooting began—all aimed at the PZs.

The cavalry had arrived.

JJ pulled in a breath and tried to get a sense of the battle.

With their cars fanned out on the dirt road, her volunteers were picking off the well-lit PZs like they were in a shooting gallery. From this angle, the pissers had no cover.