A/N: So, this is it. The last chapter...oh boy. This, as you will read on about, is why you may or may not want to kill me. Thanks for Reading the series. :)

CHAPTER 11:

Four days had gone by. Jennifer had meanwhile eliminated four out of the five patrols. She was down to her last nerves waiting out in the hot desert for the last patrol. She figured they wouldn't be out now that four of them had been taken out. She waited on her perch; another cliff facing away from the sun. She had no shade, and her only cover was some medium sized boulders. She sat, taking the occasional sip from her water canteen. The wind had picked up and it was a slight relief from the heat. She sat against a boulder, her gun set up on the ground pointing to the nearby valley on a wool blanket. She continued to watch for any sign of movement from the road a few miles away. She would wait. She was only a mere few hours from getting the one hundred and forty five million pay cheque and going home.

James sighed as he gathered his supplies. Apparently he was headed out with some Allied troops to shoot down some Taliban. And as he was packing his backpack, he decided to call home to Fiona and tell her about Jen in case she didn't know already.

"Fiona?"

"James! Good to um…hear from you."

"Yeah…so…"

"Jennifer mentioned you got into a fight…how bad of a fight was it? She was kind of drunk last night. I didn't get any details."

"It was…bad. I said something that no man should ever, ever say to a woman no matter what."

"What did you say?"

"I um…called her a vindictive manipulative bitch." James cringed as he heard Fiona gasp. "It's…"

"You…wow. She's never gonna forgive you. Knowing her, she won't. Not in this lifetime. You fucked up."

"I know. Look…if she gets home before I do, please, don't let her take off with my daughter. If we're gonna get a divorce, I at least want a fair chance to get split custody."

"James…I'll do it. Just…make sure you come home, all right?" Fiona said worriedly.

"I will. In a week, I'm leaving. I'll see you then." And with that he hung up, feeling slightly reassured that at least someone would try to help him from the wrath of his possible soon-to-be ex-wife.

Hours had past and still, no Allied patrol had stopped. Jen was getting fed up. She dug into her bag and pulled out the last can of beans she had with her. She was hungry enough to eat them cold. As she was eating, she thought back to the last three years. She got married, had a kid, almost settled down permanently until she wanted to back to work, and that's when everything went down hill. She supposed that maybe they shouldn't have worked together. But, they were husband and wife and they had been extremely determined to do everything together. What a flop that turned out to be, thought Jen. She sighed, finishing her lunch, tossing the can aside. That's when she heard the crunching of rubber tires on desert sand.

She crouched down beside her rifle and peered through the scope. Five men in another Humvee. Perfect, this will be easy, Jen thought, just like the other four. She waited until they stopped and got out. The soldiers all spread out, like they were searching for something. Just then, the wind started picking up, making everything and anything impossible to hear. Jen inserted a fresh magazine into the Barrett and cocked it. Because of the distance, she couldn't put a silencer on the end of the barrel, but it was far too windy to hear the gun shot unless you were right next to it. She looked down her scope and lined up the first man, taking the wind into account. She pulled the trigger. Four seconds later, the man dropped in a bloody pile. The other four had their backs turned, each walking in different directions away from each other. She continued her streak, taking the shots with ease. Each man fell with a bullet to the head, aimed in between the eyes with dead-on accuracy. Jen had this experience from being in MI6 as well as the SAS. She was as lethal as they got.

After Jennifer capped the fourth one, she found the last man standing. He was now about five feet from the parked Humvee with his back turned towards her. Her eagle eyes were tracking his every movement. The man walked a fair bit, before finally, he turned around. Jen zoomed in on her scope, aiming it closer to his face. Then she had a sudden realisation that hit her like a shotgun shell to the gut. The last man standing, keeping her from the one hundred forty-five million dollars was in fact, James Holt, her husband. She paused, keeping her eye looking through the scope, leaving her finger treading the delicate hairline trigger.