Time of Attack Read Online Free PDF Page B

little Mattie swing on her papa’s outstretched arm. There was an undeniable bond between a father and his precious daughter. The woman holding the rifle knew that from experience. Her own father had taught her how to kill a man when she was much younger than Mattie Quinn.
    Target acquired, she took note of a light crosswind coming from her left, estimating it at less than five knots. She adjusted her windage and elevation for the drift and drop that would affect the 250-grain bullet during its quick journey of 3,900 feet. She parked the peppermint next to her back teeth and slowed her breathing—allowing her mind to clear. Buddhists called it mu-shin or no thought . Inhaling slowly, she released half, then held it. The picture in the scope came into crisp focus. All else around her fell away.
    Jericho Quinn and his precious little girl threw their heads back in laughter as the trigger broke with a crisp snap. The powerful rifle bucked in the woman’s hands. Quinn would live for a few hours more, but in the space of his next heartbeat, he would be done with such laughter forever.

C HAPTER 2
    “I t really is time to go,” Kim said, her voice an exasperated sigh.
    Mattie gathered the hem of her dress for another giant leap into her father’s arms.
    “Listen to Mom, kiddo,” Quinn said, his arms still outstretched, ready for Mattie’s last leap. “I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
    Kim moved closer, ready to snatch her out of the air in midjump. “Guess I have to be the bad guy—”
    Quinn heard the crack of a supersonic bullet as it hissed past. He was all too familiar with the downrange pop of gunfire. Time seemed to unhinge and slow as if he were moving through life a half step faster than everyone around him. Voices, screams, the sound of running footsteps became muffled and low.
    A lock of his daughter’s dark ponytail lay on the concrete walk at his feet, neatly clipped by the passing bullet while she clung to his neck.
    Forcing himself to exhale, Quinn grabbed Mattie by the face with both hands, scanning her for wounds. He was rougher than he should have been. Startled, she began to cry but was otherwise fine. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Garcia, who nodded immediately that she was unharmed. Behind her and nearer the steps, Steve Brun had his new bride and everyone around them moving toward the opposite side of the chapel, out of the line of fire. An Air Force Special Operator like Quinn, Steve knew the drill.
    Thibodaux was also well accustomed to the unique sound of bullets flying in his direction and shooed his wife and boys toward the relative safety of the cadet chapel’s lower level.
    The distant pop of a rifle moaned in on the breeze, and Quinn made a subconscious mental note of the time between the bullet’s passing and the report.
    He handed Mattie off to Garcia, shouting for them both to run toward the stairs as he reached for Kim’s hand. She’d dropped at the shot and lay blinking up at him as if dumbfounded. Gary Lavin stood over her, staring cow-like, still with no idea what all the fuss was about.
    Quinn tried to pull Kim to her feet but she resisted.
    “Jericho . . .” Her face had gone pale.
    Quinn’s breath caught hard in his throat when he realized her leg was bent at an impossible angle, crooked at midthigh. A crimson stain crept from beneath the perfect blue fabric of her dress, blossoming against the concrete beneath her.
    “Oh . . . Jer . . .” The words caught in her throat, strangled. “I’m . . . shot . . .”
    Lavin offered all the help of a blank stare.
    Fearful of a follow-up attack, Quinn scooped Kim up in his arms to run toward the chapel. He kept her leg as immobile as he could to keep from causing further damage, but the most important thing was to move to cover. She was so much lighter than he remembered. Blood soaked his white shirt from bow tie to cummerbund by the time they reached the cover of the concrete buttresses surrounding the lower