Read Online EYESHOT: The most gripping suspense thriller you will ever read by TAYLOR ADAMS - Free Book Online

the Toyota’s rear door, hair tangled, eyes wide, mouth agape, but unharmed. She hit the ground on her back and crawled to him.
    “What was that?” she gasped.
    James noticed a shard of blue polymer stuck on his collar. He recognized where it came from.
    Oh, shit.
    “What?”
    “That was my GPS,” he said quietly.
    “He shot our GPS?”
    “Yeah.”
    She ran her hands through her hair. “Why?”
    “Because . . .” Something big, impossibly huge, occurred to him and he rolled his head back against the hot door and stared at the sky. Glass fell from his hair. The world wobbled.
    “ Why , James?”
    He crunched a shard in half between his fingers. “Because the GPS had a satellite emergency SOS function. This whole time.”

6
    Sometime around then, twenty-two-year-old Saray lost consciousness and died.
    Don’t think about her.
    Her passing had no drama, no pomp or spectacle. She took an otherwise unremarkable breath, and then there were no more after. Whatever awful things she had called her mother the other day quietly cemented into history. That was that.
    There’s nothing you can do for her now.
    James estimated it had already been an hour since Saray had taken the bullet. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and unpeeled with a Velcro crackle. His neck and face were fiery hot to the touch and a morbid part of his mind imagined he could feel his flesh slowly cracking and blistering in the sun. Like old paint peeling off a house. The more rational part of him knew that every drop of sweat, wrung from every inch of exposed skin, was a drop he would never get back. The sun would go down in a few hours but it would return. The sniper was out there, a mile away, presumably sitting atop a mountain of food, water, and ammunition, fully equipped to outlast them. After a day or two in these badlands, he realized, catching a bullet would be the easy way out.
    That answered his question – the killer hadn’t relocated because there was no need to. Eventually, as the sun set and rose, they would either wither from the creeping death of dehydration or choose to break cover and make a futile run back up the northern wall of the crater. And then the bastard would enjoy hundreds and hundreds of yards of luxurious open ground to pick them off, one by one.
    James couldn’t decide which death was better. Maybe, he decided, they were past better and worse, and the new yardstick was shitty and less shitty . As he considered this, Elle stirred, moved to his lap and lay with her hands around his shoulders and her face buried in his dusty white shirt. She sniffed once and squeezed the back of his neck. He knew she shouldn’t be here. Her life was hard enough. Miscarriages and a nonstarter career and her two beloved pets gone forever. He had to get her out of here, at any cost. He rallied himself and tried to pare the enormity of this nightmare into something smaller, simpler, more bite-sized and manageable.
    Think of it like a puzzle.
    He’d loved puzzles as a kid. He’d had books of them – little one-off situational riddles less than a page or two long. They’d give you a location, list the objects at your disposal, set a few ground rules, and then it was up to you to engineer a solution. Many involved escaping inescapable concrete rooms or solving unsolvable murders. He loved them. He was great at them. He never had a sibling and he built only shallow friendships, but James Eversman always had his puzzles. Even – no, especially – after his dad died.
    You’re crouched behind a car, he thought grimly. A sniper, a mile away on the opposite ridge of the valley, has you in his scope. You’re thirsty and tired. It’s a hundred degrees, and you only have two bottles of water for four people. You have no cell phone signal. You’re surrounded by hundreds of yards of open prairie, in all directions, with nothing to hide behind. Every inch is no man’s land. Any mistake, any exposure, is instant death.
    He sighed. And the