Reflexive Fire - 01 Read Online Free Page A

helicopters, buzzing like giant bumble bees over the front lawn and driveway.  Behind the pilots in the cargo area, rope masters were giving the order to drop ropes.
       The thick, green nylon fast ropes were dropped from the helicopters, the excess coiling below on the ground under the spinning rotors.  With the rope hanging from a boom attached to the side of the helicopter, camouflage clad counter terrorist soldiers from Colombia's Agrupacion De Fuerzas Especiales Urbanas began sliding down, like they were on a fire pole.
       The Americans didn't waste any time watching the commandos descending on the drug lord's villa.  They ran directly for the oblong warehouse made out of corrugated metal, the garage doors giving away its purpose.
       Running down the steps, Pat quickly led them into the hedges, careful to keep them out of the commando team’s line of sight.  From the initial gun runs on the villa, it was clear that the AFEU were weapons hot for this operation.  Deckard followed with J-Rod over his shoulders, manipulating his M4 with one hand as best he could while holding the Delta operator's legs with the other.
       Pat approached the side entrance to the parking garage, finding the large metal door already partly ajar.  Stepping inside they found themselves in total darkness, stumbling around as intermittent gunfire blasted somewhere deeper in the compound.
       Setting J-Rod down on his good foot, Deckard and Pat began sweeping around in the darkness for a light switch.  Suddenly the overhead lights blasted on, causing them squint as their eyes attempted to readjust.
       The automatic gunfire was deafening as the sound reverberated off the walls.  Hitting the cement floor, a fusillade of rifle rounds punched through the thin metal wall behind Deckard as he rolled behind the wheel well of a 1966 Shelby Mustang.
       Pat followed Deckard's lead, taking cover next to him, J-Rod crawling behind a Camaro.
       “Lights!” Deckard yelled.
       The three Americans aimed towards the ceiling, systematically shooting out the florescent bulbs above and around them, creating shadows deep enough to hide in.  Hearing a gruff voice barking orders from the other side of the garage, it was clear enough what had happened.
       After heading off Ramirez and his lackeys at the grotto, and the Colombian military depriving him of his escape plan, Ramirez had the same idea they did, doubling back and finding another means to make a getaway.
       Deckard pulled free his final 5.56 magazine and slid it across the ground to J-Rod.
       “Keep them occupied.  We'll envelope.”
       The Delta men nodded, J-Rod taking a knee and putting a few suppressive shots down range to give the enemy something to think about.  Breaking off, Pat went left and Deckard went right, staying behind cover whenever possible and sticking to the shadows when it wasn't.
       Sliding up alongside a Ferrari, Deckard could hear J-Rod sending volleys of fire towards the drug lord and his bodyguards.  All he had to do was keep their heads down long enough for his teammates to get into position.  Moving in a crouch, he continued to make his way to the other end of the garage, weaving his way through Ramirez's car collection.
       Breaking a corner around another Ferrari, he spotted one of the gunmen taking refuge behind a BMW convertible, fixed in position by J-Rod snapping rounds over his head.  Taking aim, Deckard was ready to make a head shot from less than ten feet away when the Ferrari rocked up and down on its suspension, glass showering both him and the gunman.
       Dozens of holes suddenly appeared in the roof, spilling laser-like beams of daylight into the darkness of the garage.  Somewhere above them the Black Hawk gunship must have been made aware of shots fired inside the garage and took action to protect the Colombian assault team outside.
       Hundred thousand dollar sports cars were stitched from fiberglass hood to