Hawk
Eyes on target.
Always.
I don't have to watch my back because Rae has it.
Always.
Sniper and spotter.
Two best friends since the seventh grade.
"Both of his men are down. You still got eyes on your girl?" Rae questions as he smacks his gum.
I don't answer but I do have eyes on her. My eyes never leave her if I can help it. The target, who was positioned to rape my woman, jerks off the bed. He quickly yanks on his pants and is pointing to her in accusation.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
A cool breeze skitters across the back of my neck. Sweat is trickling down the side of my temple but I don't dare move. Instead, I'm calculating the wind not just up here from my position on the top of a hill across the road but also where my target is at. The wind picks up and thunder rumbles in the distance.
Click.
I make an adjustment to the windage turret.
"Elevation?" Rae questions as if I'd forget. I never forget.
I double-check the elevation turret, but it's where it needs to be. Rae doesn't require an answer. He knows how we work. When I'm in position, I don't speak. I don't move. I hardly fucking breathe. Any movement could affect my shot. I absolutely cannot afford to miss. I will not miss.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
The target keeps moving. I keep adjusting.
Click. Click. Click.
Adjust.
My sights have moved slightly to accommodate my target. A target that is almost clear.
Focus.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
"Stay still motherfuck—" Rae starts.
When my sweet naked girl lifts her chin and says something to him that makes him tremble with rage, I take my shot.
Despite the suppressor on my rifle, the crack echoes off the homes around me the moment I pull the trigger.
"We have to go," Rae growls.
I blink once and watch the target fall face down onto the bed. He's unmoving, a deadly head wound causing blood to rush from his skull.
Target eliminated.