SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV Read Online Free

from his body. He gasped and sucked in more oxygen, got to his feet, and wiped his eyes clear of dust and dirt. As he vaulted over the dead Degtyarev gunner, still clutching the weapon in his lifeless hands, he glimpsed another fighter only a few feet away. The guy was badly wounded, but he still held on grimly to his assault rifle. The man turned painfully to look at the American, his enemy, and snarled a challenge. He tried to raise his rifle to shoot the hated foe, but Nolan got there first. He shot him with another double tap, and the two 9mm bullets buried themselves into the man’s body, one in the chest and the other in the head. He ran on, only to find the gully had emptied. Then he heard more shooting.
    Nolan darted a fast look over the edge to see the remaining two fighters had crawled out and were sheltering behind the wreckage at the front of their truck. He knew that at the other side of the vehicle, Boswell’s squad was deployed behind cover, waiting for the enemy to arrive.
    Jesus, what a situation! One grenade and they’ll be finished. And the missile shooter is among them, loaded for bear.
    He keyed his mic.
    “This is Nolan. You guys have two hostiles right behind that truck. They’re about to attack, and one of them is holding the RPG.”
    There was a stunned silence, and then Lucas Grant replied. “Can you get to them? If we throw a grenade this close, we’ll all go up with it.”
    “That’s a negative. I can’t see them. They’ve got in behind cover,” Nolan answered. One of the men looked up and raised his Sig, but he ducked back down inside the shelter of the wreckage. The shooter with the RPG showed himself for a second, too quick and too far away for an accurate pistol shot. But his intentions were obvious; he was preparing to fire, maneuvering himself into a good position. The other fighter was behind him, arming the missile. They were about to shoot into the guts of the wrecked truck so they’d send themselves to paradise and destroy everything, Boswell’s squad included.
    “Vince, can you see them? They’re about to blow themselves up, and the rest of our guys will go with them.”
    “Negative, Chief. I can just about make out a patch of their clothing, maybe two yeah, but it’s not a clear shot. I can maybe wing them, that’s about all. It’s a risk.”
    “Take the shot, and don’t miss. Do it, Vince, now!”
    The two shots rang out. Vince had removed the sound suppressor for maximum accuracy and velocity. There were two simultaneous yelps of pain and surprise, and Nolan was up and running, straight for the wrecked truck. He rounded the twisted, burning remains and there they were, both men bleeding profusely from Vince’s bullets. One round had entered the left femoral artery of the missile shooter; the other fighter had taken a hit to his right elbow. They were painful wounds, and both men were screaming in pain and anger. He put them both out of their misery. It was no time for fancy shooting. They were jigging around, a mixture of pain and fear, and he hit them with three bullets each to the chest. They went down dead, and seconds later Boswell, Grant, and the rest of the men rounded the side of the truck. Boswell stared at the bodies on the ground and then looked at Nolan.
    “You okay, Chief?”
    “Yeah, no sweat.”
    Boswell nodded. “You called it right, thanks. But I’ll have a word with Dan Moseley. He should know he can’t talk to me like that.”
    Nolan nodded. “Yeah, it’s a real bastard, being insulted by someone who’s saving your life. My advice, Lt, is to let it go.”
    He saw Grant’s lips twitch in a smile. Boswell nodded thoughtfully and looked at his number two man in the Platoon. Nolan made him nervous, that was obvious, but whatever the reason, he couldn’t fathom what it could be. Except perhaps that he towered over the smaller man. Chief Petty Officer Kyle Nolan was tall, six-one, and lean, with the kind of features some people called