Shadow Ops: Danger's Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

suggested. Her partner, a young Navy SEAL with a shaggy beard and spooky bright eyes called in to assist with the ship’s assault, agreed. Once each team radioed they’d established secure positions to monitor door and access ways, he activated the bullhorn to warn everyone on the ship to leave immediately.
    The warrior stepped away from the steel upper deck and popped three siren wails, “Leave the ship now. We are not here to arrest you. There are dangerous chemicals on this ship. We only want to secure those chemicals. You are free to leave.”
    A shot rang out from behind a hatch on the port side. It cleaved the bullhorn from his hand. Ricocheted shrapnel sliced through his protective suit. He dropped the speaker and shook his hand to ease the impact vibration.
    Rose’s eyes narrowed on the location of the shot. Anger bubbled up but she settled it. Nothing pissed her off more than one of her team being attacked. She leveled her Heckler and Koch MP5, peered through the optics scope, exhaled, and strategically placed two quick rounds into the area.
    “Fuck these people ma’am. Excuse my French, but fuck ’em.” the SEAL said.
    “Team 3 took shrapnel but still operational,” Rose announced.
    “Highly operational,” the SEAL clarified over his tactical headset.
    “Oorah,” sounded over the tact earpieces.
    “Gotta be Chase. Radio discipline, Jarhead Marine,” Billy kidded from his Team 4 position on the starboard side across from Team 3.
    Rose took a breath, making sure she was dealing with a steady head and not from anger. “Okay, they made their decision. Teams move to secure. We have zero arrest authority,” Her words resonated—she’d just signed death warrants.
    *     *     *
    “Does she mean what I think she means?” Voodoo’s words hitched in her throat. KC nodded yes. Voodoo’s gut still reeled from the man she’d just taken out. She wasn’t sure if she could do it again. The other two waited for her to cover Hollywood.
    “Hey, bayou belle,” KC got her attention. “Reload.” She tapped Voodoo in the shoulder and seemed to have snapped her from a trance. “Thanks for saving Chase. Had you not secured down, he would’ve been in that dude’s sights.” Voodoo released a huge lump of air that had wedged in her chest, and winked.
    “Heads up, I’m moving.” Hollywood began to climb the stairs. The hollow metal staircase clanked with each footfall. His hard polymer thigh holster brushed against the handrail. It rattled to announce his arrival. Voodoo tiptoed behind him, careful not to sweep him with the barrel of her rifle. Her eyes fixed on an opening to the landing platform’s left flank.
    “Hold Hollywood. Check left,” she said.
    “Got it—I’ll secure. Voodoo, sweep right. Team 2, clear passageway ahead to captain’s wheelhouse.” A series of mic clicks and shoulder squeezes signaled they were ready. “Move.”
    Booms of unearthly thunder concealed their flurry of rushed movements, an orchestrated tableau of violent actions aimed to detect and neutralize any threat. Voodoo hadn’t noticed, but her breathing and pulse had leveled off. She was responding as she’d been taught—kicking ass was her skill set, and it reassured her that she belonged. Hours of repetitious training and endless rounds of ammunition fired during drills had prepared her for today—for every day.
    The ping didn’t register at first. When the second round bounced off the steel bulkhead, she felt the crush against her ballistic SWAT vest. Her protective suit crumpled as shards of metal pellets pulled it apart.
    Wrath flashed. The will to survive, and fury at someone trying to fucking kill her set off a peppery personality. “Oh no, sucka.”
    She spun and dropped to one knee. Eyes wide, she peered over the barrel and through the scope’s tritium reticle.
    Where’s Dwight?
    “Man down,” she radioed. Her trembling tone was obvious, but so was her resolve. Hollywood was flat on his back