Search and Destroy by JT Sawyer (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

The incoming headshots from the suppressed pistol barely disrupted the calm night air, dropping both guards near the rear bumper. Shepard stepped out, dragging each man behind a clump of creosote bushes to the left then removing their Springfield pistols, ARs, extra magazines and comms.

He heard his own earpiece crackle with the sound of Viper’s voice confirming her location.

Game time.

Shepard got back in the vehicle, slowly heading down the compacted dirt road with the headlights off. He stopped a half-mile from the main buildings under a cluster of oak trees lining the driveway, then he put the car in park and got out, opening the trunk. The sheriff was scrunched in the back, nestled between bundles of cocaine that he’d obtained as payment from the Colombians.

Shepard yanked on Donnelly, hauling him out of the tight space then walking him to the front and securing his duct-taped hands to the steering wheel with Flex-Cuffs.

The man was thrashing, throwing his head back and trying to scream through the cloth restraint over his mouth until Shepard sent a vicious backhand across his face, causing Donnelly to collapse into his restraints.

Shepard bent down, using one of the sheriff’s Flex-Cuffs to secure Donnelly’s right foot to the accelerator until it was fully depressed. “The other mercs—you know, the ones you let enter this country—I’m gonna need your help in drawing them out from their concealed locations.”

The man’s eyes widened in the moonlight as he tried to squirm. Shepard straightened the steering wheel so it was aligned with the main road that led straight towards Roth’s estate.

He grabbed one of the radios from the dead guard, speaking frantically in Spanish.

“Shepard broke through the gate in the sheriff’s car. Looks like he’s on a collision course with the main house.”

He closed the driver’s door then leaned in through the window, shifting the gear into drive and watching the cruiser speed off into the darkness as the half-conscious man inside remained slumped onto the steering wheel.

Shepard tapped on his ear-mic. “Viper, get ready—your targets are about to be exposed.”

55

When he heard the news of Shepard’s imminent attack, Roth’s face seemed to become frostbitten. He stepped back from the porch and rushed to his desk, removing a .410 Taurus Judge pistol from a drawer as his bodyguard Karl closed the blinds and turned off the lights.

“Where the hell is Hunley?” he said to Karl, who was heading to the balcony with a .308 SCAR rifle.

“Downstairs with whoever just arrived a few minutes ago before Shepard,” said the barrel-chested bodyguard.

Rimaldi sprung up, rushing behind the taxidermied grizzly bear. “What is this? I didn’t come here to be involved in an abduction and shootout. Who’s Shepard?”

“He’s a fugitive—a CIA agent who killed a bunch of people back east—and he’s come here to finish the job.”

“The guy who killed your friend Landis? Madre de Dios…what have you gotten me into?”

Ross pulled out a .38 snubbie, thrusting it into the Venezuelan’s hand. “Having your own country to rule comes with a fucking hefty price, Ernesto. It’s time you earned your keep.” Roth nodded towards the woman in the hood restrained to the chair in the corner. “If Shepard makes it up here, you finish her off.”

“What? No!” He shoved the pistol back towards the man.

“You want the remaining ten million in cash then you best respect the hand that feeds you, boy.”

“I’m not going to kill someone for you. You’re a fucking animal.”

Roth raised his arm, his meaty backhand connecting with Rimaldi’s cheek and dropping him to the ground. “The hell kind of leader are you? How can you be so unwilling to get your hands dirty to get what you want in life?”

Roth’s eyes filled his face as a cacophony of gunfire erupted from numerous locations around the main ranch, along with the sound of a vehicle racing across the property.

“He’ll be torn to shit in a few minutes, so everyone just stay put for now.”

The moonlight stabbing in through the curtains revealed everyone’s location except Montoya’s. Roth nervously glanced around then saw the side door to the porch was ajar. He swung his head back towards the large coffee table, seeing the suitcases of money were gone.

Roth ground his teeth, striding across the room towards the door, clutching the beefy pistol in his hand.

56

Shepard had already trotted past the first tack barn when the sheriff’s car crashed through the flower gardens lining the driveway in front of Roth’s home. The yellow-orange hue of muzzle blasts from a half-dozen directions lit up the property from the Colombian mercenaries, the lights becoming fewer as Viper’s sniperwork picked them apart.

Shepard darted from the edge of a stone bunkhouse to the corner of a small garage filled with tractors. He paused, seeing the three-story estate ahead. He bounded the remaining thirty yards, keeping to the rear of the building to avoid the burly armed figure on the front deck. The man was much larger than the Colombians, and his pale complexion made Cal think it was Roth’s personal bodyguard, whom he had observed during the drone reconnaissance the day before.

Shepard paused beside a water-catchment barrel near the garage, clutching the AR he’d obtained from the dead merc at the gate. He peered through the nightscope on the rifle then squeezed the trigger in rapid succession, punching two holes into Karl’s neck. The bodyguard slumped onto the wooden railing, tumbling over the side.

The blood-orange fingers of dawn were piercing through the sky, and he knew the advantage of darkness was about to end. Immediately, Shepard trotted up the back steps that led to the porch on the third level, flipping up his NVGs.

Once he was at the top, he tapped on his ear-mic. “Viper, I’m heading inside. You know what to do.”

“Copy that,” she said in between bursts of rounds from her sniper rifle.

57

Roth was just heading onto the porch when he saw a shimmer of movement to his left near the steps. The chilling image of the