Read Online RW11 - Violence of Action by Richard Marcinko - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Marcinko
Tags: thriller
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opposite! Paul, you follow her.”
Trace nodded. She slipped her Kimber out of its custom tactical holster (NOW I know where she carries that thing!) and in an instant was shimmying along the concrete on her belly. Kossens followed and seconds later we had both sides of the entry point covered.
“Danny, you still the fucking strong ox I remember? See that big garbage can? You’re gonna throw it right through the fucking window on my say-so. As soon as it goes through, I’m going through behind it. You’ve got our six!”
Barrett nodded. Holstering the massive .41 he turned and grabbed the steel garbage can I’d pointed out. Filled with all sorts of shit, it must have weighed an easy hundred pounds. The big bastard lifted the container by its handles with ease. He slid past me and lined up just out of the line of site of the window. Dahlgren and Kossens were in position and ready to spring after I did.
I checked my Glock to make sure it was secure in its holster at my side. With a few deep breaths I readied myself for what was to come. I’d have to follow the can through the window, draw the Glock once I was in, and hope like hell I didn’t get my ass cut to ribbons by falling glass. Trace and Kossens would follow right behind me and together we’d move through the building as quickly as possible in search of our target. I knew neither of my team was wearing their ballistic vests and I never wear one. Why? They can drag you down if you wind up in water; they get in the way when you’re breaking through doors and windows; and most of all they give you a false sense of security that can inhibit your best instincts and reduce your reaction time. Shoot first and fast has always been my personal motto. Our goal was to get this bastard alive and in one—more or less—piece, if possible. However, if he as much as pointed a weapon in our direction I knew one of us would take him out to protect the others.
I looked over at Danny and nodded once. Showtime!
Barrett took three short steps, swinging the big can hard and then let it fly. I watched as it hit the plate glass window, smashing through it with a crash that was loud enough to make a deaf man crap his pants. Thousands of shards of safety glass exploded inward and I was right behind them, burrowing my face as deeply into my chest as I could. I cleared the low wall and tumbled into the room, rolling as I hit something that gave way beneath me. A beat-up desk chair. I was up and on the balls of my feet, Glock in hand.
ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK! I heard Trace and Paul coming in on my ass as I moved forward. Across the room I saw a door being pushed shut and instantly threw myself right at it, yelling at the top of my lungs for the team to get with me. The door gave way as I slammed all 240 pounds of Rogue into it and I heard a startled yelp of pain as it smacked into whoever was on the other side. I burst into another sparsely furnished office and saw the little blond fucker we’d been chasing over half the city. He began to raise a chromed pistol toward me. I rushed him, using my own weapon to smash his aside, and punched him hard in the face with my free hand.
He staggered backwards with a grunt. I’d busted his nose wide open and bright red blood was gushing down his face. As I closed in on him once again he lashed out with a low-line kick, catching me hard on my right shinbone. Fuck! I ducked as he swung a fist at my head then realized the other one was coming up hard and fast from below my line of sight. It connected beneath my jaw and stars exploded inside my skull. Great, I thought, a badass who actually knew how to fight!
I felt another kick and my left knee buckled. Then he had me by my neck and I could feel one of his knees slamming into my lower ribs. I burrowed my head down and fought to stay upright. My elbows were now tucked in tight to protect my ribs from serious damage. I had to punch my way outta his grasp or this silly little fucker was going to
Trace nodded. She slipped her Kimber out of its custom tactical holster (NOW I know where she carries that thing!) and in an instant was shimmying along the concrete on her belly. Kossens followed and seconds later we had both sides of the entry point covered.
“Danny, you still the fucking strong ox I remember? See that big garbage can? You’re gonna throw it right through the fucking window on my say-so. As soon as it goes through, I’m going through behind it. You’ve got our six!”
Barrett nodded. Holstering the massive .41 he turned and grabbed the steel garbage can I’d pointed out. Filled with all sorts of shit, it must have weighed an easy hundred pounds. The big bastard lifted the container by its handles with ease. He slid past me and lined up just out of the line of site of the window. Dahlgren and Kossens were in position and ready to spring after I did.
I checked my Glock to make sure it was secure in its holster at my side. With a few deep breaths I readied myself for what was to come. I’d have to follow the can through the window, draw the Glock once I was in, and hope like hell I didn’t get my ass cut to ribbons by falling glass. Trace and Kossens would follow right behind me and together we’d move through the building as quickly as possible in search of our target. I knew neither of my team was wearing their ballistic vests and I never wear one. Why? They can drag you down if you wind up in water; they get in the way when you’re breaking through doors and windows; and most of all they give you a false sense of security that can inhibit your best instincts and reduce your reaction time. Shoot first and fast has always been my personal motto. Our goal was to get this bastard alive and in one—more or less—piece, if possible. However, if he as much as pointed a weapon in our direction I knew one of us would take him out to protect the others.
I looked over at Danny and nodded once. Showtime!
Barrett took three short steps, swinging the big can hard and then let it fly. I watched as it hit the plate glass window, smashing through it with a crash that was loud enough to make a deaf man crap his pants. Thousands of shards of safety glass exploded inward and I was right behind them, burrowing my face as deeply into my chest as I could. I cleared the low wall and tumbled into the room, rolling as I hit something that gave way beneath me. A beat-up desk chair. I was up and on the balls of my feet, Glock in hand.
ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK! I heard Trace and Paul coming in on my ass as I moved forward. Across the room I saw a door being pushed shut and instantly threw myself right at it, yelling at the top of my lungs for the team to get with me. The door gave way as I slammed all 240 pounds of Rogue into it and I heard a startled yelp of pain as it smacked into whoever was on the other side. I burst into another sparsely furnished office and saw the little blond fucker we’d been chasing over half the city. He began to raise a chromed pistol toward me. I rushed him, using my own weapon to smash his aside, and punched him hard in the face with my free hand.
He staggered backwards with a grunt. I’d busted his nose wide open and bright red blood was gushing down his face. As I closed in on him once again he lashed out with a low-line kick, catching me hard on my right shinbone. Fuck! I ducked as he swung a fist at my head then realized the other one was coming up hard and fast from below my line of sight. It connected beneath my jaw and stars exploded inside my skull. Great, I thought, a badass who actually knew how to fight!
I felt another kick and my left knee buckled. Then he had me by my neck and I could feel one of his knees slamming into my lower ribs. I burrowed my head down and fought to stay upright. My elbows were now tucked in tight to protect my ribs from serious damage. I had to punch my way outta his grasp or this silly little fucker was going to
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