Special Forces: Operation Alpha: No Protection (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Gennita Low Page A

slamming into it, whizzing right above their heads.
    He realized they might not make it. If Abe or Wolf didn’t get the enemy sniper above, they’d be hit with his next shots. His two companions were thinking that too.
    “Leave me,” Cookie told them. “Get in there.”
    “Quit wasting your breath, asshole, and keep up!” Mozart panted out.
    Liam didn’t even bother replying. As if they were going to leave any man behind to be picked off by a damn sniper. He heard the familiar squeal of tires and it sounded as if a vehicle was coming in their direction. Not good. From his peripheral view, he caught sight of a covered all-terrain vehicle. Faster. They needed to go faster.
    Outrunning an M-ATV while helping an injured man was impossible. Liam turned his body, raising his weapon-holding arm. Death would not get him from the back. He looked straight up and smiled defiantly as he readied to shoot. He froze.
    Above the M-ATV, a figure was facing the enemy, manning and blasting at them with a 50-calibre. It was the most beautiful sight. At the same moment he had his weapon raised, their unexpected help turned, hair spraying out like liquid rubies in the wind.
    “Get the fuck out of the way, dumbasses,” she yelled on top of her voice, her Southern accent instantly recognizable to all American boys, “so we can get close to the door.”
    Although he couldn’t see much in the few seconds, to Liam, the voice belonged to the most beautiful woman in the world, in combat gear, coming to save their lives. He would kiss her if he could.
    The M-ATV swerved right next to them, close to the front door. The driver beckoned as the woman continued shooting at the enemy, giving them cover. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Liam pushed Cookie up into the vehicle. He heard the others behind him as he and Mozart scrambled up. In seconds, all the SEALs were inside and without needing orders, they began shooting in unison, like the perfect fighting team they’d been trained to be, aiming at the parapet wall as their driver turned and drove out of firing range.
    “Are they going to come after us?” Liam asked.
    “Seeing what a small group we are, I’d say yes,” Wolf said.
    They’d stopped shooting since it’d be just a waste of bullets. The parapet wall was too far away.
    “No, they won’t,” the driver replied.
    Like everyone else, Liam turned his head at the female voice. Two women. He hadn’t expected that.
    “Hey, thanks for coming to our aid,” he said, studying them both with interest.
    The first one, the one manning (should he say womanning?) the weapon was still standing, so all he could see was her lower body. The camouflaged pants fit her very well.
    “You’re American,” he continued speaking to Legs when the sound of battle had died down and there was only the rumbling of tires as they sped off.
    “Ya noticed.”
    Legs had a fine voice, with that Southern drawl. Such an unexpected thing in the middle of the desert. It reminded him of the sweet iced tea he guzzled down in the pungent heat of Florida summers when he played baseball.
    “We were escorting the Canadians to meet with the Peshmerga leader,” Mozart said. He wiped perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve. “Now they’re dead. Care to explain?”
    “Our leader is dead. They killed him this morning,” the driver told them, quietly, her voice without emotion. She spoke with an Arabic accent.
    “What happened?” Cookie asked. He sounded a little strained.
    “You have injured men. You’d better tell how serious it is first,” the driver said, glancing back at Cookie. “Ella?”
    “Yes, I remember the first aid kit,” Legs said, the rest of her finally coming down from the hole above them. “It’s in my backpack under the seat, along with my laptop and notes. So be careful if any of you are sticking your hands under there looking for it.”
    “I’m okay,” Cookie said, reassuringly. “I’m a SEAL. I can take a little flesh wound