Hell Dogs Squadron:Angle of Attack
by A.R. Moler
Hell Dogs Squadron: Angle of Attack
Lt. Cameron Bradshaw is languishing on the compound of Division P recovering from his motorcycle accident. Dr. Mason Flynn is going through the motions of work while he secretly frets over thoughts of the injured pilot. When Mason suspects someone has broken into his house, the people responsible for a stolen missile and Cam’s accident, escalate the affair and soon Mason is running for his life. Can Cam save Mason from an assassination attempt?
The second installment of this Chaser series over at Torquere Press
Mason paced the floor of his den, beer bottle in his hand. Cam had seemed very worried. The phone rang and he thumbed the answering button.
“Hey Mason, it’s Cam. I’m heading in your direction. Stay put okay? I’m also bringing Valentine with me. The guy who picked me up a couple of days ago. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember him. I know you’re wigged out about this, but honestly I think it’s probably my imagination.”
“If it is, it is. But too much wicked shit has happened in past couple weeks not to check it out. We’ll be there in about 45-50 minutes.”
“I’ll be here.” He hung up. From Suffolk to the ocean front of Virginia Beach, yeah that probably was close to an hour’s drive. He glanced out the window. The drapes were hanging open. The sun had set, and it was fading toward full dark. He was tired, but this whole maybe somebody broke in deal was making him restless. He paced some more, thinking.
How did one go about setting up an “accident”? He had watched the pickup truck hit Cam. It wasn’t like the guy was sitting still, just waiting for the right motorcycle to come by. Maybe there had been multiple people involved? He supposed that would make more sense. He still had no real clue as to why someone would want Cam dead, but the pilot had implied that it had to do with this Division P bunch of people.
He flopped down on the sofa and surfed through dozens of channels. There was nothing on that caught his interest. He got up and wandered around the room some more, eventually finishing his beer. He set his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. A small red flash caught his eye. It glinted slightly off the polished wood of the coffee table and jiggled along the arm of the sofa. It reminded him of a laser pointer used during seminars to point at things on the screen. He turned to look out the window. There was probably some kid getting his cheap thrills running around the dark pointing it through people’s windows, like a gun sight…. Oh fu@k.
The window of his den exploded in a shower of glass as Mason flung himself sideways. He rolled across the floor, arms up in front of his head, trying to protect his face. He scrambled up and darted into the kitchen, putting a wall between himself and the broken window. Away, was the only coherent thought in his head. Heart pounding hard enough to hurt, he edged toward the door that led out onto the patio. He fumbled with the dead bolt trying to open it with shaking hands. Mason thought he might have seen a shadow through the gaping opening surrounded by shattered glass. He finally wrenched the door open and ran