But now he had saved her, and the thought of revenge no longer seemed so sweet; instead it now seemed… dishonorable?
Damn him!
Aoki knew she was now obligated to the man by the immutable Japanese concept of giri, and although she tried to banish the thought from her mind, she couldn’t ignore a lifetime of mental conditioning.
But what of her obligation to her mother? Did one cancel out the other?
She was at an impasse, unsure what to do; and then Cole was gone, charging through the barn’s double doors into the unknown beyond.
She cursed inwardly at her bad karma and, with gritted teeth, let the gun fall to her side.
Disgusted with herself, she started to consider her options.
Cole didn’t know what was going on, but for a second back in the barn he’d thought that the girl was going to shoot him in the back. There was a tingling on the back of his neck, a feeling he’d had many times before; the feeling that precipitated immediate violence, a sense honed by many years of such work. He had literally felt the girl’s sakki, a Japanese term meaning ‘killing intent’, leaking from her body, dripping from every pore.
And then it had been gone.
It concerned him, but there were more important things to worry about now.
As if to confirm this thought, Cole’s peripheral vision caught sight of an AU thug raising a shotgun towards him, body half-hidden behind a huge Saguaro cactus.
Cole pivoted towards the man and unleashed a blast from his own shotgun before the man had even pulled the trigger. The spray of pellets destroyed half of the cactus along with a good part of the man’s hidden torso, a gruesome plume of green and red exploding into the air around them.
Drawn by instinct alone, Cole pivoted in the opposite direction and pressed the trigger again, the blast hitting two men running towards him with pistols, shredding their bodies in an instant.
He heard the sound of an engine, saw a Dodge pick-up bursting out of the nearby garage, Haynes in the passenger seat, one of his men driving. Three more men clutched onto the rear deck, bodies bouncing as the vehicle accelerated off up the rough terrain, heading for the road. They tried to fire back at him, keep him pinned down as they helped their boss escape, but the movement of the pick-up made their shots go wild, nowhere near Cole.
Cole stopped still, shotgun to his shoulder, taking careful aim. He squeezed the trigger gently once more, the shotgun erupting; then pumped the action and shot again, then again.
The tires of the Hi Lux were hit, obliterated, and the truck started to wobble, to veer off course. The driver tried his best to control it, but it was too late; the men in the back dropped their weapons, one of the men flying out towards a stand of thirty-foot cactus plants, no longer able to hold on.
And then the truck span completely out of control and smashed straight into one of the giant cacti, which wavered only slightly with the impact. Steam rose from the crumpled front end of the car and Cole could see no movement inside. Slowly, he edged forwards.
The burst of automatic gunfire singed the air across Cole’s shoulder and he turned and knelt reflexively, stabilizing his fire base as he dropped the empty shotgun and unslung his Uzi submachine gun, returning fire instantly.
He saw a man drop to the ground to the side of the barn he’d left earlier, a trail of 9mm rounds running across his torn body.
It had been careless of him to leave his back exposed, Cole knew; but with Haynes on the run and nobody to help, what other options did he have? He scanned the area, eyes quartering the scene, watching for any hint of movement. He had a rough idea of how many people were here on the ranch, and he didn’t think there could be many left, if any at all. But he looked again to be sure, weapon at the ready.
Satisfied at last, he turned back to the truck, smoldering under the giant cactus.
Haynes’ ranch was right on the border of the Saguaro National Park, an expanse of the arid Sonoran Desert filled with the Saguaro cactus plants which gave the park its name. Cole knew it was one of the reasons Haynes had bought the ranch here; Groves had told him Haynes was crazy about them.
The men on the back of the truck had all been thrown clear; one lay with his neck broken, another trying to claw himself along the ground, legs twisted.
Cole stepped over him, peering around the sides into the driver’s compartment. The man who had been driving was still there, his bloodied body crushed between the steering wheel and the broken seat, the shattered windscreen bent in over his torn head.
At first Cole couldn’t see Haynes at all, but then he noticed that the passenger side of the windscreen was smashed from the inside and followed the trajectory through the window, coming round the truck to the hood.
The sight was enough to make a man sick; Haynes’ legs lay on the hood, twisted and bloodied, while his head was half-buried, half flattened, against the Saguaro cactus. It had been reduced to a bloody stump, pushed halfway backwards through his shoulders into his own body so that it looked like his body was merely an extension of the cactus itself.
Well, Cole thought, at least it was his favorite plant.
It was just a shame that the man could no longer be questioned. But, Cole reminded himself, at least he was no longer a threat; and his death was exactly in line with Force One protocol. Rehabilitation wasn’t Cole’s idea of an effective strategy for people like Haynes.
Shots came at him again, and Cole cursed himself, unable to believe he had missed another one of Haynes’ thugs. How many were there?
The 9mm rounds sprayed off the Hi-Lux right next to him and he turned, Uzi up and aimed towards the source of the gunfire.
He was about to squeeze the trigger when he stopped, seeing who it was.
The girl.
The girl was firing at him; stopping now, going to one knee to aim better, eye lined down along the top of the barrel, leveling the iron sights towards him.
And for the first time since his baptism of fire as a nineteen year old SEAL in Iran, Mark Cole froze, not knowing what he should do.
Damn! Aoki cursed herself, her shots having missed him completely.
She had been too keen — too nervous? — and had fired on the move, shooting as she closed the distance towards him, anxious to get it over with now the decision had been made.
He had saved her, yes; but that was only part of the story. And Aoki had finally decided that the other part far outweighed the obligation she had towards him, and reverted to her original plan, her ultimate desire — to kill the man.
And yet she had rushed, and missed.
She wondered, idly, if she had missed on purpose.
Do you really want to kill him?
Yes! Yes! More than anything!
Then get a grip, get stable, aim properly.
Yes.
On one knee now, she saw her target in her sights and began to control her breathing, ready to place the kill shot.
You’re hesitating. Why?
No! I am not! I will fire, I —
And then the pain ripped through her body, and she was lying on the dirt floor, eyes looking up towards the clear blue skies of the Arizonan desert above her.
Cole approached her carefully. The gun was several feet away now, having fallen there when he had shot her in the shoulder, but he knew he couldn’t be too careful.
The girl had hesitated. Cole didn’t know why, but she didn’t fire when she could have; and that was enough for Cole to minutely adjust his own aim, going for the shoulder rather than the head or heart.