Still a bit cool, but sunny and beautiful. Nick sat inside a once plush, 1970s full-size van, watching the building where FBI Special Agent Jack Ward worked through the scope of his .308 rifle. The window of the rear door of the van had been knocked out the day prior, and Nick and his rifle were about five feet from the opening, deep in the shadows of the curtained van. Nick waited in the seat of a captain’s chair, kneeling, with the rifle perched across the back of the seat for support. With Nick’s head cramped against the top of the van, it was a shitty position, but he was only shooting 260 yards. With the building’s doors sharp in his scope, all he could do was wait. Two days had passed since his spout in the motel room with Allen over the SS symbol burned into his chest, but that was long forgotten. Though he knew he was only moments away from taking the shot, he found it hard to concentrate. Behind him, Allen was smoking his third cigarette in five minutes. Allen kept thinking of all the things that could go wrong.
What do You think about Sold Out (Nick Woods Book 1)?
