Sidney Sheldon's Reckless Read Online Free Page B

him, group members were emerging from their tents, bleary-eyed with panic. Some waved guns around, but others were unarmed. Atlas and Kronos, two German lads, had their hands in the air. Dimitri watched in horror as they were mown down anyway in a hail of bullets, their limbs flailing grotesquely like dancing puppets as they died.
    Then something hit him from behind. Not a bullet or a stone. It was a gust of wind, so powerful it blew him off his feet. The choppers had landed. Suddenly all was chaos, light and noise. American voices were shouting. “ON THE GROUND! GET DOWN!”
    Dimitri screamed, a child’s wail of terror. Then suddenly, arms were around him, under his shoulders, dragging him into the control center.
    â€œYou’re OK.” Apollo’s voice was firm and calm. Dimitri clung to him like a life raft.
    â€œThey’re going to kill us!” the boy screamed.
    â€œNo they’re not. We’re going to kill them.”
    Dimitri watched as Apollo pulled the pin out of the hand grenade with his teeth and lobbed it toward the men who had just killed his friends. As they were blown into the air, their legs came off.
    â€œHere.” Apollo handed him a grenade. “Aim for the choppers.”
    INSIDE THE CABIN, HUNTER Drexel cowered under a table.
    The noise of the Chinooks was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
    They’re here! They found me!
    Even the gunfire, the all too familiar pap pap pap pap of machine guns he remembered from Iraq and Syria sounded soothing to his ears, like a lullaby, or a mother’s voice.
    Boom! The cabin door didn’t so much open as explode, shards of wood flying everywhere. Smoke filled the room in seconds, disorienting him. Hunter’s ears were ringing and his eyes stung. He heard voices, shouts, but everything was muffled, as if he were hearing them under water. He waited for someone to come in, a soldier or even one of his captors, but no one did. Crawling on his belly, Hunter began feeling his way towards the space where the cabin door used to be.
    Outside, he quickly got his bearings back. Stars up. Snow down. The Americans—presumably?—were mostly in front of him and to the right, directly facing the camp. To his left, what was left of Group 99 had taken up position in the two breeze-block buildings and were firing back. Gunshots flashed in the blackness like fireflies. Occasionally a strobe or flare would illuminate everything. Then you could see men running. Hunter watched as three of the American soldiers were gunned down just feet in front of him. His captors were clearly not giving up without a fight.
    A whimpering sound to his left, like a wounded animal, made him turn around.
    â€œHelp me!”
    Crawling towards the sound, Hunter found the English boy codenamed Perseus sprawled out in the snow. Hunter had a particular soft spot for Perseus with his skinny, chicken legs, cockney accent and thick, dorky glasses. Hunter had nicknamed him “Nerdeus.” They often played poker together. The boy was good.
    Now he lay helplessly on the cold ground, his eyes wide with shock. A deep crimson stain surrounded him. Glancing down, Hunter saw that both his lower legs had been blown off.
    â€œAm I going to die?” he sobbed.
    â€œNo,” Hunter lied, lying down next to him.
    â€œI can’t feel my legs.”
    â€œIt’s the cold,” said Hunter. “And the shock. You’ll be fine.”
    Perseus’s eyes opened and closed. It wouldn’t be long now.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant for . . . all this.”
    â€œI know that,” said Hunter. “It’s not your fault. What’s your name? Your real name.”
    The boy’s teeth chattered. “J-James.”
    â€œWhere are you from, James?”
    â€œHackney.”
    â€œHackney. OK.” Hunter stroked his hair. “What’s it like in Hackney?”
    The boy’s eyes