Line of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

moments before the radio crackled. “Ammo building. Place is hot.”
    “Watch your asses! Let’s move out,” Christian called out signaling the group to move. He turned and moved, constantly searching their surroundings. From the right and front, gunfire opened up. Taking aim on the muzzle flashes, Christian returned fire, pleased to hear a variety of chaotic screams and the clattering of weapons. Time was running out.
    Pressing against the side of the second building, the group made their way around to the front of the building. Half way across the open area, light flooded the compound.
    “Take out the fucking lights! Why wasn’t the power cut?” Jason demanded taking aim at the nearest set of lights.
    “Hell if I know, but when I find the asshole responsible for this mess, I’m going to tie his nuts around his fucking throat,” Christian ground out.
    One by one the lights went out in the courtyard went out. Taking a deep breath, he rounded the corner of the building. He needed to get his team to a relatively safe position and out of the line of fire of O Caudilho’s men. He signaled Jason to open the door while he and Seiboweitz covered him. Gunfire erupted from inside. The hair on the back of Christian’s neck stood as they returned fire. Breaching the building, the hail of bullets dwindled as the team advanced, pushing through the group of men. An eternity and more bodies than they were willing to count later, the silence from the inside the supply warehouse bristled sharply against the battle waging outside. He signaled Jason to remain at the door and pushed further inside.
    The back section of the warehouse was cordoned off and had three separate doors. Seiboweitz pointed to the door farthest from them. Christian nodded, and moved in. He planted a heavy boot in the middle of the door, leaving it swinging from the assault. They scanned the three-foot by four-foot nearly empty room. By the look and smell, it seemed liked the occupant had only recently left. Shackles hung on the wall next to a threadbare mattress. The combined odors of sex and blood permeated the air, telling Christian what type of person had been here before or at least what the room had been used for. Sex. The previous inhabitant was either a prostitute, either by choice or force, or a prisoner that had become a sex slave. Swallowing his anger, he led the way to the next room.
    A wire frame connected by cords to a large battery or amplifier stood at one end of the room. Chairs, whips, knives, more chains and assorted equipment Christian didn’t want to name filled the room. Devoid of humans, he was tempted to destroy the room. Christian signaled the group to move to the next. Bursting through the last door, Christian pulled up short. A filthy, scared young man crouched in the corner, wrists and ankles manacled.
    “We’re here to rescue you,” Christian said in English, hoping the information about the man was correct.
    “American?” The man asked hesitantly.
    Christian nodded. “We need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
    The man shook his head. Donning gloves, Tyler Harrington knelt down beside the prisoner and quickly assessed the man’s injuries.
    “Two broken legs, dehydration,” Tyler said standing. “More than that will have to wait. Seiboweitz, can you carry him?”
    Seiboweitz nodded and shot through the chain connecting the man to the wall before he handed his weapon to Christian. “This is probably going to hurt kid,” Seiboweitz said, the normal bitterness gone from his voice.
    “Better than what was going to happen in the morning.”
    The flatness in the prisoner’s voice surprised Christian. The young man barely contained a cry when Seiboweitz scooped him up and placed him on his shoulders as gently as he could. Tyler stepped in and rearranged the man’s arms so he could hold on without interfering with Seiboweitz’s movements.
    “Peter Pan is with the lost boys,” Christian said into the mic. “Let’s