Breach of Trust by Jodie Bailey Page B

height advantage. We can lay down suppressive fire and flank him.”
    â€œNo cover.” The space between them and the other man was wide-open. Even with both of them firing, the guy simply had to get off one clean shot. And the worst-case scenario was they killed their lone suspect before they got to ask questions that might lead to the answers needed to end this once and for all.
    â€œYou have a better idea?” There was an edge to her voice. She didn’t like it when he dismissed her plans quickly, but there wasn’t time to argue. She edged around the front of the truck, trying to get a clearer vantage point. “How about we call in a helicopter and an F-16 and nuke him out of the field?”
    â€œSarcasm? Really, McGuire?” He’d forgotten the way stress pulled out her twisted humor. “We’re all three hemmed in for now, and we’re short on time. Sooner or later, a bystander’s going to come along and I’m not sure our boy won’t shoot an innocent.” Tate tapped his finger on the barrel of his pistol. “The truck’s a four-wheel drive?”
    Meghan grinned. “Yeah. But it’s no armor-plated tank. Want to rush him?”
    â€œYou’ll probably have a lot more bullet holes to explain.”
    â€œOh, well.” She slid toward the driver’s door and eased it open. “After the first one, will more really make a difference?” She slipped into the truck, keeping low.
    Tate followed, knowing he couldn’t keep out of target range for long before he had to put himself into position to drive. Well, he’d have to trust God had gotten him this far and wouldn’t drop the protection now. “Ready?”
    â€œAs I’ll ever be.”
    The truck roared to life as Tate twisted the key and shifted into four-wheel drive, making a hard right and barreling across the shallow ditch toward their target. He braced himself for gunshots.
    But they didn’t come.
    The man stood and walked toward them, arm raised and weapon loose in his hand as Tate ground the truck to a stop.
    Tate focused on his face, trying to memorize the features. They locked eyes, and Tate knew with certainty. This was the same man who’d executed Isaac’s crew and let him walk away alive.
    A phenomenon he probably wouldn’t allow twice.
    â€œWhat’s he doing?” Meghan had her pistol raised, sighting on the man through the windshield.
    â€œI’m going to find out. Keep him and me both alive.” Tate shoved the door open and leveled his gun on their pursuer as he rounded the front of the truck, leaving himself without a barrier. Behind him, the passenger door popped opened. Meghan would cover him. Later, she’d kill him for being stupid.
    Fine. He wanted answers and he was going to get them. “Gun down.” He fired the command, keeping his own pistol level, his elbows tucked close.
    The man laughed, his ice-blue eyes remaining cold as the gun dangled from one finger. “You’ll have to shoot me, and I don’t think you want to risk losing what I know.”
    â€œDon’t tempt me.”
    â€œMy death won’t get you any answers.”
    Frustration dug into Tate’s shoulders, and he worked to keep his muscles loose. Control. Situational control was shifting from power to knowledge. He had to regain it somehow.
    Tate dropped his aim and crept slowly closer. “A blown knee won’t do you any favors.” He shifted his aim again. “And I’m sure you know a gut shot won’t kill you straight off. Just make you wish it had.” He leveled the pistol. “Gun down. Now. You have no other out.”
    The end was close. Tate could taste it. The level of assassin this guy probably was, they could threaten him with anything to get him to talk about what he knew. Surely there was a string of unsolveds with this guy’s fingerprints all over them. Leverage. He had a new avenue to aim