Hunter (In the Company of Snipers Book 14) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  Sneak Preview of Eric

  If you enjoyed Hunter

  About the Author

  HUNTER

  IN THE COMPANY OF SNIPERS

  Book 14

  IRISH WINTERS

  COPYRIGHT

  Hunter; In the Company of Snipers, 14

  Copyright ©2017 by Irish Winters

  All rights reserved

  First Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover design and author photo by Kelli Ann Morgan,

  http://www.inspirecreativeservices.com

  Interior book design by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Editor: Lauren McKellar, McStellar editing,

  http://mcstellarediting.blogspot.com

  ISBN Paperback: 978-1-942895-43-5

  ISBN eBook: 978-1-942895-44-2

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017901841

  Irish Winter’s websites: http://www.irishwinters.com

  and irishwinters.blogspot.com

  DEDICATION

  “Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in our hearts.”

  Winnie the Pooh

  IN THE COMPANY OF SNIPERS

  This series revolves around ex-Marine scout sniper, Alex Stewart, and his covert surveillance company, The TEAM, home-based out of Alexandria, Virginia. An obsessive patriot and workaholic, he created the company to give ex-military snipers like him, a chance at returning to civilian life with a decent job.

  This is not a serial with each book ending at a cliffhanger. I wouldn’t do that to you. I hate cliffhangers! In the Company of Snipers is a collection of passionate love stories involving strong women and men who are tough enough to take on the world alone. Each is a stand-alone read, complete in itself.

  Spoiler alert: Every story contains adult scenes including sexual situations (some explicit), language, and violence. I don’t write sweet romance, so be forewarned.

  Book 1, ALEX, reveals how The TEAM came to be, as well as how Alex met Kelsey, how they fell in love and fought all odds to stay together. Each of the following books is a complete romance in itself where, in the course of an active TEAM operation, one agent comes face to face with his or her demons. The men and women I write about are all patriots and warriors, dealing with what they’ve lived through or the mistakes they’ve made.

  It’s my hope that you will come to realize along with my heroes...

  Love changes everything.

  Praise for Irish Winters’ Sniper series

  ALEX, Book 1

  “These characters were so well written at times I felt like I was feeling the love, the loss, and the triumph right along with them.” Amazeballs Book Addicts

  ZACK, Book 3

  “This is my first book by Irish Winters and I have to say I'm sold!” ThePleasureofReadingToday

  HARLEY, Book 4

  “… one of the sweetest male heroes that I have come across in a long time.” ReadsAllTheBooks

  CONNOR, Book 5

  “Thrilling, suspenseful, heartbreaking and tender - you will not want to put this book down once you start.” Jen M.

  RORY, Book 6

  “Irish Winters’ Sniper series is a pure, one hundred percent, five star read!” LJ Vickery

  MAVERICK, Book 9

  “Irish Winters, you have ruined me with Maverick, ruined me in the very best of ways.” ReadsAllTheBooks

  ADAM, Book 11

  “These books are like potato chips. You read one and you just can't stop.” Lhill

  LEE, Book 12

  “Irish's BEST EVER!!! Little twist here, little twist there and BAM...She's got you!!” Kindle customer

  KY, Book 13

  “Home run!” Melissa Raywood

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’m hit. Damn, I’m… I’m dead.” With a pain-filled groan, Ky Winchester fell to his knees. His weapon hit the dirt seconds before his face did. Instead of grief, revenge flamed to life in the deepest recess of Hunter Christian’s war-hardened heart. His buddy didn’t deserve to die like that, and shooting a man’s family jewels was as low as a person could get. Could a vengeful female shooter be in the enemy’s ranks? A sicko with a vendetta against men?

  Adrenaline spiked. Fight or flight? That’d be the day that Hunter ran from the enemy. Women maybe. Bastards never. Camouflaged, Hunter faded into the verdant mesh of the Amazon jungle around him. It was early autumn and nights were chilly at home on the East Coast, but it couldn’t have been hotter here. Sweat beaded at his temples, stinging and his eyes. Buzzing insects annoyed at his nostrils, lips, and eyelashes. He brushed the distractions away. If only he could see the dirtbag who’d taken his buddy down.

  Part of what was supposed to have been a joint exercise with McCormack Industries, Hunter and his three buddies had stumbled into an ambush. The enemy hadn’t let up since. Where the hell was the friendly landing party that should have been at this rendezvous point?

  Hunter stifled another curse, a burdensome feat for a guy with a combat-honed vocabulary, crafted with explicit care and plenty of practice to artfully condemn a man to Dante’s Hell. Yes, he’d studied the epic poem back when he cared a fuck about literature. He’d even lived a few of the tortures within the concentric levels, from Limbo to the most rancid—Treachery.

  He knew the warning at the gates of Hell: “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate.” Translation: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

  The story of his life.

  A twig cracked to his left, jolting him out of his waste-of-time reverie. Crap like that could get a man killed. No sooner thought than…

  “Shit,” his good buddy, Agent Eric Reynolds hisse
d—right before he dropped like a rock. Damn it. Eric was the agent-in-charge. He should’ve known better than to give his twenty away—even in death.

  Two men down and within seconds of each other? Something’s not right. Was a rat on Hunter’s team? An informer? He hated betrayers with every last piece of his soul. God, how he hated them.

  The need to kill something crept up his spine like a prickly spider with an attitude, compelling his number one rule of engagement. Stay sharp. Stay angry. Let it build. Then let it loose to obliterate the son-of-a-bitchin’ enemy.

  Oddly, the weakest link on his team, and the one with the worst PTSD, Seth McCray, had gone silent. Go figure. Maybe Seth and he could win this war. Hunter backed into the good-sized tree at his rear. Another rustle, this one starboard, caught his attention, but he didn’t turn to look. Couldn’t risk it. Whatever joker was out there would have to get close and personal before he’d fire the short stock rifle pressed under his chin.

  When a barely discernable ripple fractured the leafy scenery directly in front of him, he nearly cursed out loud. No wonder Ky and Eric had fallen so quickly. The enemy had cloaked themselves in the latest ActiveCamouflage System. They were invisible. Not anymore.

  Barely flexing his index finger, Hunter lined up his shot and fired. The unseen shooter hit the dirt with a grunt and a muffled, “They got me.”

  Finally. One down. Satisfaction added to the ferocious sense of competition that came with warfare. If I can kill one, I can kill ’em all. It didn’t take long. In minutes, Hunter took out two more invisible men. There was nothing better in combat than a pissed off Marine, and Hunter was one angry SOB. He would’ve felt better if another shot hadn’t boomed, and if Seth hadn’t called out, “Don’t… don’t let ’em get you, Hunt.”

  Holy screaming shit! I’ve lost all my guys and the sun’s was barely up. He steeled his jaw. Rolled one shoulder. Hunkered own. The game had changed to the ultimate standoff, one gunslinger against an unknown number of assassins. Fine by me.

  Come to Brazil they said. It’ll be fun they said. Yeah right.

  This wasn’t Meredith’s idea of a good time. She could barely breathe in this bug-infested jungle, it was so hot. How could she be the last of her team alive? It didn’t seem real or right or—gulp—possible. But there she was, a single working mother and an engineering assistant—a trainee—now her team’s lone survivor. Yes, she knew how to shoot, even carried a concealed carry pistol, but to hunt another human being? To be faster on the draw? To kill a man before he killed her? Something else entirely.

  But now was not the time to turn tail and run for cover like a sissy girl. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. Another big gulp. The TEAM’s last agent waited just ahead to her left in the giant kapok tree. That was the only place he could be.

  She steeled her nerve. It’s all up to me now. I’ve got to beat this guy.

  Still, she played it safe. Her senses reached out through the jungle, feeling for any unnatural sound that didn’t belong. A burp. A sniff. A scratch. A cocky guy snort. Darn. Nothing.

  Seconds stretched into minutes. Still nothing. Not one whisper. Not one sigh. Until...

  “Don’t move,” a deep voice ordered as the barrel of a gun jabbed her bicep. Hard.

  This guy had to be black ops as stealthy as he’d been. As good. His body heat warmed her right shoulder; he was standing that close. The aromatic scent of single barrel whiskey rolled off of him. Cigarette smoke. Her nostrils flared at the heady scent of clean male sweat mixed with the barest hint of manly deodorant. Something else radiated off this guy, too. Pure male power. Dominance.

  But she hadn’t missed the telltale signs, darn it. Neither the crushed grass from the weight of heavy boots, nor the tiny bent tips of branches. They’d all proved he should’ve been ahead of her hiding in that tree, not sneaking up behind her. She’d been alert. How’d he get back there?

  A large male hand lifted the invisible automatic rifle from her grip—like he knew precisely where it was and which way it pointed. She nearly shrieked at the rippling black tattoo on his arm. A snake. It moved! Kind of.

  Okay, maybe not. But it could have. The artwork was just that good. Lifelike. The serpent’s red eyes stared unblinking at her. Its forked-tongue stretched to the end of his middle finger in a continual obscene gesture. The handle of the knife blade piercing the serpent’s head just below this guy’s clenched knuckles, declared USMC. Even the detailed scales glistened as if this creature was part of the guy’s rippling muscles, but… man, he’s got some power in that massive, sexy arm.

  A woman could be tempted, but didn’t it figure? An ex-Marine? She’d been bested by one of America’s best, the good guys. Thinking she could delay her inevitable surrender, she cocked an elbow, intent on going for his Adam’s apple. She could still win. It could happen.

  “Stop it,” he hissed. A heavy hand caught her by the nape of her neck, his thumb digging into her skin just below her ear. “A shot this close will hurt like hell, but I’m game if you are, Bozo. Where do you want it, in the crotch like you bagged my first guy?”

  Guess again, tough guy. I’m better than a man. I’m a woman.

  She would’ve tossed that golden up-yours back at him, but Meredith was suddenly damp and hot for all the wrong reasons. She should’ve been scared, but, for some reason she—wasn’t. It didn’t make sense. Her starved-for-sex inner Mean Girl had sprung to life at some weird, elemental, possibly animalistic level. How—wonderful. Meredith could barely resist rubbing up against this stranger’s chest like a feral cat in heat. What’s wrong with me?

  Strong, mean fingers twisted her head to the side as if to snap her neck. Ouch.

  “Say it or die,” he hissed, the barrel of his rifle stuck in her ribs hard enough to really hurt.

  Fine. If he was playing for keeps, she would too. She belted out the requisite, “Yield!” for all still standing. That would be you—Captain America.

  Meredith pressed one finger to the center pad of her gloved palm. Section by section, the densely woven, metallic fabric of her all-in-one invisibility suit blinked into view. This moron needed to know who he was dealing with, and it wasn’t some guy he could bully. Shifting her weight, she lifted one booted foot to give this jock something to think about. Surprise sucker-punched her instead. “Hunter Christian? Is that really you? What are you doing here?”

  But it wasn’t surprise glowering on his handsome, chiseled face. Or delight. More like disgust. His top lip curled. He grunted, but offered no sign of recognition, just a curt, “ma’am,” before he performed an abrupt military-style about-face.

  “Wait,” she called after the wide shoulders angling through the woody curtain of liana vines and away from her. “Don’t you recognize me? It’s me. Meredith Flynn. Your... friend?”

  But he’d vanished—just like last time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Yeah, she’s a wicked shot, but she hit me in the crotch. I’ll be black and blue for a week.” Ky readjusted his junk for the umpteenth time.

  Hunter jerked his eyes off the conversation taking place front and center stage. It had to hurt, but damn, did Ky have to keep rubbing himself like he was?

  “Sorry.” Meredith ducked her head into her shoulders and grinned like the naughty little cheerleader she once was.

  Sorry, my ass.

  Hanging back from all the politically correct bullshit and good-old-boy congratulatory backslapping taking place in the enemy’s camp, Hunter had nothing nice to say about the first day’s battle. He stayed near the tent door to keep his second-hand cigarette smoke from the others, but it was past time to leave.

  He and his teammates, Ky Winchester, Seth McCray, and Eric Reynolds, were on, what was supposed to have been, an easy op with the esteemed McCormack Industry’s RDT&E, Research, Development, Test, and Evaluation, folks. The mission had been vetted as more vacation than work, their job to assist MI’s beta test of their top-of-the-line ActiveCamouflage System One, the ACS1. Each paintball w
ar game had been designed to pit the MI team of techno geeks against Alex Stewart’s very capable covert operators in various combat scenarios, including ambush.

  It seemed an obvious outcome would’ve followed when civilians were matched against highly trained operators. That was what Jed McCormack wanted—the unskilled and possibly very scared soldiers, his people, to experience the adrenaline rush, the chaos, and confusion of warfare.

  The games were supposed to have shown the system’s unique reliability, expose any weaknesses, and hopefully, prove Jed’s point—that invisibility was the confidence boost the American military and public needed.

  Interestingly, the MI team had barely lost.

  Rack one for The TEAM.

  Barely.

  That win should’ve given Hunter reason enough to gloat, but it didn’t. His gut was talking to him. This was no beginner’s luck scenario. No fuckin’ way. There was a reason the MI folks had nearly won. Someone had betrayed The TEAM. Who the hell was it?

  Lowering his chin to his chest, he let a calculating gaze cruise over the men who supposedly had his back. Hunter hadn’t survived deployments to Libya, Ethiopia, and Iraq to die on vacation. He took another hit of nicotine and let the smoke settle in deep before he blew it away. One thing was sure. The MI folks had better prepare for a sound thrashing. They thought they could beat ex-military? They’d be lucky if they walked straight by the time these games ended.

  “Oh, it’s all right, ma’am. You got me good,” Ky said, the front of his camouflaged pants still stained with bright red dye. No one had changed clothes yet. “I never saw you coming.”

  “Please. Call me Meredith.” She extended her hand to Ky, flouncing her blonde hair over one shoulder, smiling brightly like she might burst into a ra-ra-cheer at any moment. Of course, Ky’s face lit up. What guy’s wouldn’t? That was what Meredith did best. Light ’em up and leave ’em.

  “That’s precisely the point, Agent Winchester,” Teague Horton, McCormack Industry’s lead engineer and war games operator, explained. “Everything visible on a soldier’s uniform in combat becomes invisible once he hits the palm pad to activate our system. All equipment and even his weapon, if he’s using one of ours. You might as well try an ACS1 suit on. See what you think. Tomorrow it’ll be your turn in the barrel.”