Page 59 of Shadow Target
Shep knew the distance he needed. One chance. Just one. If it did it wrong? He was going to die. Most likely, be decapitated in the sweep of that blade David held so powerfully and confidently, upraised, ready for him to step into the Circle of Death where a blade could take the opponent’s life. In those last, vital seconds, he moved his hand from the leather handle, turning the knife around, blade pointed toward himself, his hand in a handshake position, closing around the spine of the K-Bar. He wouldn’t have time to take aim.
Nine feet. The knife’s blade caressed the palm of his hand.
Eight feet. Shep locked his wrist, keeping it in the proper straight position needed to send the K-bar’s point straight and true into David’s body.
Seven feet. He pulled back his arm, eyes still nailing his enemy’s chest. He heard David laughing, almost hysterically, as he lifted his foot, starting to take the step forward into the Circle of Death.
Six feet. Shep darted his forearm and released the knife, the blade slipping from his hand, cutting the air at high speed, cartwheeling end over end. The blade plunged into David’s chest with ferocity, five inches deep into his jerking body.
David’s eyes bulged as the knife pierced his heart and sent him flailing backwards. He let loose of his own knife, a croak of surprise in his throat, disbelief in his face as he continued to stumble back, arms flailing like a windmill.
Shep halted, holding the man’s eyes that had first been filled with killing lust, now turned to disbelief at the K-Bar sticking from his chest, its steel blade deep in his heart muscle. Standing there, breathing hard, Shep watched the Somali’s hands flutter over the K-bar’s handle, but to no end. His legs crumpled beneath him, and he crashed to the ground. Dead.
“Holy shit!”
Shep turned, seeing Luke running up behind him, M4 ready to fire. There was disbelief written all over his face.
The SEAL skidded to a halt, staring at the unmoving enemy that had plagued all of them for so long. Then, his stare of disbelief moved to Shep. “Where the HELL did you learn how to throw a knife like that?”
Wiping the sweat off his face, Shep said, “When I was in Afghanistan, I ran around with the Marines on base. Their Recons taught me how to use a K-Bar, and how to kill with it. No one even comes close to them for knife skills.” A slight grin tugging at his mouth, he watched Luke shake his head, eyes on the blade’s deadly placement. “Holy shit!” he said again. “Right through his heart. You shoulda signed up for the SEALs.”
“You SEALs must know how to throw a knife, right?”
“Well,” Luke stumbled, “we learn how to FIGHT with a knife, not throw it.”
Shep walked over and picked up the scimitar blade. “Pity. Maybe you ought to invite some Recon Marines over to your training base in Coronado, to show you ALL the uses of a combat knife, huh?”
He dropped the scimitar next to where David had crumpled, where it belonged.
Shaking his head, Luke muttered, “You’re friggin’ something else. I’ve never seen anything like what I just saw. And I wouldn’t believe it either unless I did see it with my own two eyes.” He pushed his hand through his short, damp hair. “You took a helluva risk. You know that don’t you?”
Shep leaned down, jerking his K-bar out of David’s limp body. He wiped the knife off in the grass, getting rid of the blood and viscera. Sliding it back into the sheath on the left side of his body, he snapped it into place and turned, giving Luke a very serious look. “Yeah. I’m gonna have to email my Recon friends and tell them what happened. They deserve to know their hard work paid off.” His voice lowered with quiet fury. “This is one bastard of that terrorist group that isn’t going to harm anyone else. Ever again.”
Luke just shook his head, disbelief still etched in his expression.
“Looks like the general has this under control. I heard some gunfire.”
“One of the Toyota drivers tried to run,” Luke said. “But that ended fast. All the men David had along are either dead or up on the airstrip in zip ties. They’ve also taken some prisoners who threw down their weapons and held up their hands the instant the helo landed. The other Toyota driver is in zip ties, too.”
“Let’s go back and get Willow. I need to make sure she’s all right,” Shep said, frowning.
“Roger that,” Luke replied, taking one more look at David and then turning and starting to trot down the hill with Shep. “She’s been through hell.”
“Tell me about it,” Shep growled, wanting nothing more than to take her into his arms, hold her, keep her safe and tell her how much he loved her.
CHAPTER 17
With every step, Willow bit back a groan. It didn’t matter what the price of pain would be, she aimed herself at the hill above her that Shep and David had disappeared behind. Her jeans were blood-soaked at the knees, the tears in the fabric flapping in the air with every step, and she knew she had cut the hell out of herself. She carried her .45, locked and loaded, not sure if all of David’s men had been captured yet or not. Was Shep dead or alive? Tears burned in her eyes, and she gulped, willing them away.
Two men emerged around the curve of the hill.
Willow anchored. Shep! And Luke! They saw her! In moments, both of them were trotting toward her. A sob caught in her throat, and she swayed to a stop, unchambering the bullet from the .45, safing and placing the gun in her go bag. By the time she’d straightened and shrugged it back across her shoulders, Shep had stopped trotting and was sprinting toward her as best he could with the M4 slung across his shoulder, the look on his face one of utter relief. As he neared, she smiled brokenly, holding out her hands toward him.
In seconds, he was there, wrapping his strong arms around her, hauling her against him, squeezing her so hard the breath whooshed out of her. Sliding her arms around his broad shoulders, her still shocked senses amplified everything: she could smell the sweat on him, the dampness of his shirt beneath her cheek, the perspiration on his jaw and his own cheek against her brow.
“…. Shep!” she managed, burying her face against his chest as he gently eased his grip, keeping his hands around her waist, making sure she was steady enough to remain on her feet.
“I’m here,” he choked out, cupping her jaw, his gaze naked with terror and relief. “You’re safe, Willow… safe. I love you so damned much,” and he leaned down, capturing her lips, kissing her hard, drinking in her breath and trading his own with hers, the taste of life, the love they shared tunneling through both of them.