by Alex Ander
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Squatting near the stairs at the back of the structure, Ashford heard Cruz pummel the front door. Her voice travelled electronically to one ear; live to the other. “This is the FBI. The place is surrounded. There’s nowhere to go. Come out with your hands up.” He cocked his head. ‘The place is surrounded?’ It’s just the two of us.
He sprang forward and reached the back door in three giant steps. Pressing his back to the wall, he heard gunfire. Wheeling around, he put a size-twelve-foot to the door and the rickety barrier flew inward. The top hinge separated from the doorjamb and the door listed to the right. He raised his weapon and had both Peterson and Lopez in his sights. They were running toward the front door. He charged forward and yelled, “Freeze…FBI…don’t move.”
Ashford watched Lopez spin to his right with pistol in hand. He did not give the man a second chance to comply with his order, pressing the trigger when Lopez’s chest was centered in his sights.
Lopez continued his turn. Instead of penetrating his chest, the bullet zipped across it, leaving a half-inch wide trench from his sternum to his right nipple before lodging in his bicep. Screaming, he dropped to the floor and dragged himself toward the out-of-reach pistol. Flopping forward the wounded arm, his fingertips touched the butt of the weapon. Before he could grasp it, searing pain radiated from the hand and through the arm. His head reeled backward.
Ashford had stomped on Lopez’s hand with the heel of his dress shoe before shifting most of his bodyweight forward. “Marcus Lopez, you’re under arrest for the illegal smuggling of drugs, weapons and immigrants. You have the right to remain silent...”
Lopez howled, while tears moistened his reddening cheeks.
Shrugging his shoulders, Ashford handcuffed Lopez and said, “…Or not,” before informing the man of the rest of his rights.
… … … … … … … … … …
Cruz stood to the left of the door, balled her fist and rapped on the wooden door. “This is the FBI. The place is surrounded. There’s nowhere to go. Come out with your hands up.” She took a two-handed grip on her Glock and waited, her back pressed against the cabin, her left ear facing the dwelling. She opened her mouth, but before she could issue another command bullets flew out of the cabin, starting on the other side of the door, heading straight for her. She whipped her head around and dove to the right. Landing on her right side, she shielded her head and face from the debris. Splinters from the handrails flew into the air as bullets zipped through the old wood. Having taken three rounds in her back, her chest heaved and her mind went back to an encounter during her days as an officer for her hometown police department of Dalhart, Texas.
Two years into her job with the Dalhart Police Department, she made a routine traffic stop of a vehicle with a broken taillight. The incident marked the first time she had drawn her weapon and exchanged gunfire with a criminal, who happened to be a Mexican drug trafficker on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. A bullet had grazed the surface of her leg, but she was able to capture and arrest the fugitive, shooting and wounding two of his companions. Cruz received special recognition from the FBI and the Dalhart P.D. promoted her to sergeant. Until this moment, that was the only time she had been shot.
Cruz drew a deep breath, but the pain in her chest forced her to abort the process. She settled for shorter gulps of air. The bullets had ceased flying, so she rolled onto her back and extended her firearm toward the door. She let out a yelp when her back touched the porch. Bad idea, Raychel. Continuing the roll, she propped herself on her left elbow. A second wave of gunfire commenced. More holes appeared on the door. Dust, dirt and fragments flew outward.
Digging the right heel of her black chunky one-inch high heels into the brittle planks, she scooted backwards, until she came to the end of the porch, her upper body thrust against the bowing handrail. A split-second later, the door exploded when Peterson’s bulk crashed through it. Cruz saw the slide locked back on his weapon and slid her index finger from the trigger to the frame. She shouted. Still recovering from being shot, her commands were mixed with coughs. “Stop…right…there.”
Peterson let go of his sidearm, leapt from the porch and landed in the bed of the truck. Scrambling over the side, he climbed into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine.
Cruz struggled to get to a standing position. With every movement, the sharp needle-like sensations pricked her back. Taking inventory of her injuries, she felt lucky. Ashford appeared on the porch and dashed to her side. His voice was strained when he addressed her.
“Cruz, are you hurt? Are you okay? Did he shoot you?” Bobbing his head up and down and flicking his eyes left and right, he searched for bullet wounds.
Bent over and her head hanging down, she waved him off. “I’m good. I took them in the vest.” She coughed. “I’m good.” Her left arm jerked toward the truck. “Take the left side. I’ll come up on the right.” Ashford ran toward the handrail on the opposite side of the porch, crashing through it, instead of going over it. Cruz rose to her full height, arched her back and leaned from side to side. Having cut the fuel line on the truck, she was in no hurry to go after Peterson. He was going nowhere and his empty weapon was lying on the porch. With a two-handed grip on her service weapon, she took the single step off the porch and drew alongside the right window of the truck, staying several feet back from the door.
Since getting into the truck, Peterson had been cranking the engine nonstop. Groaning, the battery hardly had enough power to engage the starter. He turned the key again, but all he heard were the commands of Special Agent Cruz.
“End of the line, Peterson.” Cruz was staring at him over the sights of her pistol. She shifted her eyes to the left. Ashford had drawn up on the left side of the truck, stopping short of creating a deadly crossfire situation between the two of them. “Exit the vehicle with your hands up.”
Peterson rotated his head to the left and stared down the muzzle of Ashford’s pistol. He swung his head back toward Cruz. His mind searched for any weapons he may have stashed on his person or in the truck—nothing. He was not stupid. He had no cards to play and he knew it.
“Hands, Peterson…I need to see those hands.” Fixing her gaze on Peterson, Cruz’s eyes narrowed. “And, if I see anything in them…it won’t end well for you.”
Ashford barked a similar command, but his voice boomed in the stillness of the quiet night. “Get out, now!”
Peterson raised his right hand, while opening the door with his left. He swung his legs outward and slid out of the seat, while Ashford took a step backward.
Cruz moved around the front of the truck, stopping at the left corner. “On your knees…get on your knees.”
Peterson was out of options, but he was not going to go out without some satisfaction. His hands at his sides, barely above his waist, he pivoted to face his female opponent. A crooked grin formed on his lips. “You get on your knees, bit—”
Ashford had advanced and driven his foot into the back of Peterson’s knee, dropping him and cutting him off in mid-sentence. Ashford followed with a blow to the back of Peterson’s head, propelling the disgraced border guard forward, until he was sprawled on the ground, face-first in a spread-eagle position. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Stevie.”
Cruz lifted her head and stared at her partner.
Ashford saw her. “What?”
“You just have to hit someone, don’t you?” Shaking her head, she holstered her gun, retrieved her handcuffs and circled around Peterson.
“Hey, he shot you,” growled Ashford. “He’s lucky to be still sucking wind.”
Cruz planted her left knee into her quarry’s lower back and clamped a handcuff onto his right wrist. “Stephen Peterson, you have the right to remain silent.” She brought his hands behind his back and smacked the second handcuff around his left wrist. “Anything you say can and will be used against you…”
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Did you love Hard Road to Redemption? Then you should read Vengeance is Mine by Alex Ander!
An FBI agent becomes the object of a serial killer's twisted affections.
Several states. Different hotel rooms. Tainted Border Patrol agents.Driving into Washington, D.C., Raychel DelaCruz is looking forward to time in her office.Oddly enough, a little paperwork too.The Special Agent is drawn back into the field, however, when a photograph is found with a headless, handless body in a small Pennsylvania town.A second body turns up in another state, and she knows she's in for another cross-country trek.Investigating the grisly murders, the 29-year-old rising star of the agency learns a third victim's life is at stake.Closing in on her prey, DelaCruz makes a chilling discovery.She's the motive behind the serial killer's sadistic acts.…A gripping FBI thriller you won't put down until the last page is read…Vengeance Is Mine features a strong female protagonist and fast-paced scenes without the foul language. Just what you're looking for in a clean action thriller. Vengeance Is Mine launches a new action & adventure series with fascinating characters and nonstop suspense.Buy now and start reading this high-energy FBI thriller today.
Read more at Alex Ander’s site.
Also by Alex Ander
Action & Adventure - Special Agent Cruz
Vengeance is Mine
Defense of Innocents
Plea For Justice
Jacob St. Christopher Action & Adventure
Protect & Defend
Word of Honor
A Vow to the Innocent
Above & Beyond
Hard Road to Redemption (Coming Soon)
Jessica Devlin - U.S. Marshal Action & Adventure
Trust Fall
No Good Options
Let the Hunt Begin (Coming Soon)
Patriotic Action & Adventure - Aaron Hardy
The Unsanctioned Patriot
American Influence
Deadly Assignment
Patriot Assassin
The Nemesis Protocol
Necessary Means
Foreign Soil
Of Patriots and Tyrants
Act of Justice
The Last Kill
Standalone
The President's Man
The President's Man 2
Special Agent Cruz Crime Series
Against All Enemies
Watch for more at Alex Ander’s site.
About the Author
Living in the middle of Michigan, Alex Ander writes Action & Adventure/Thriller novels. He has four series in production, focusing on the exploits of the protagonists Aaron Hardy, Jacob St. Christopher, FBI Special Agent Raychel DelaCruz (Cruz to those who know her), and Jessica Devlin.
His writing style mixes fast-paced action scenes with suspense, humor and sharp dialogue. Each book is wrapped up at the end with NO cliffhangers. Characters and relationships do develop and evolve over the course of the series, so it is best to read the books in order.
Mission Statement:
Write fast-paced action thrillers with characters you'll love and clean language.
From the Author:
My goal is to craft stories that entertain and leave a positive, lasting impression on you. I seek to create protagonists with good character, and surround them with allies you’ll want to read about as much as you do the main character.
You won’t find any vulgarity in my work (F-bombs and the like). Yes, an occasional mild, cuss word is used; however, even those are kept to a bare minimum.
And what about graphic sex scenes that leave nothing to the imagination? Nope. Not in my books.
So if you enjoy clean, fast-paced action & adventure stories with humor, crisp dialogue and camaraderie among the characters, then pick up a copy of one of my books today.
Best Wishes,
Alex
Read more at Alex Ander’s site.