She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Clay.”
He grabbed her and hugged her. “Hell, you’re my sister. What else am I going to do?”
She pulled back. “Be careful. I’m going to watch the cameras a bit longer.”
“Good.” He hustled down the stairway leading to the lower level, speaking into his throat mike. “I’ll be coming out the north tunnel, Steel.”
Christie hadn’t wanted to tell Clay what she was going to do. Returning to the cameras, she saw two of the killers from the meadow already beside the front house door, which had been left unlocked. They were quickly inside. Their partner had to be ahead of them.
She had a minute.
Grabbing a pump shotgun, she checked and saw it was loaded with buckshot. Slinging the Rattler over her shoulder, she hurried to the barn door. Sliding back the deadbolt, she quietly slipped outside, shutting the door behind her.
Running to the closest parked car in the turnaround, she knelt behind its front driver’s side tire. Even that little bit of exertion caused her bruised ribs to ache.
The men came out of the house in seconds. Remaining low, they approached the closed barn door. One of the killers tried to open it. When it didn’t budge he took something from his belt to place on it.
Rising just above the car fender, Christie fired the shotgun twice at the killer closest to the door. Legs and head. He collapsed to the ground.
One of the killers rose and aimed his machine gun at her, but he took a bullet in his neck and dropped to the ground. Carlos.
The third man knelt and fired at her. Bullets hit the front of the car.
Falling to her belly, Christie shot below the frame at the third man’s legs. Yelling, he fell to his belly. The man still managed to fire his machine gun at her, hitting the dirt beneath the car. Christie scrambled toward the rear tire, crouching low.
She unslung the Rattler. When just past the rear bumper, she knelt and fired a burst at the man. He collapsed into the grass. The man with the neck wound was lying on the ground, groaning.
Standing up, she ran forward. To ensure she didn’t have to watch her back she put bullets into all three killers.
Quickly she punched in the barn access code, opened the door, deadbolted it, and ran across the barn. Dumping off the shotgun, she practically ran down the steps to the lower level, and then to the tunnel access.
Pulling back the bookcase made her groan. She punched in the code and pushed the door open.
The tunnel had no lighting so she used her hands to feel her way along the wall as she ran to the first junction. It helped that she had experienced moving fast in similarly dark tunnels on Steel’s land.
At the first junction she went left.
Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she kept running. Passing the junction leading east, she continued south. In another hundred yards she reached the exit door. She punched in the code and opened it. Steel rungs led up to the tunnel entrance.
“Exiting the south tunnel, Wyatt.”
No reply.
Closing the door, she climbed to the top, her ribs aching again.
Carefully she pushed the manhole cover up an inch, but she didn’t see anyone. Pushing it farther, she climbed out, quietly closing it. Taking two steps to a tree, she pressed herself against it and drew the Glock, keeping the Rattler slung over her shoulder.
Scanning through the night vision gear south, east, and west, she didn’t see anyone.
The intruders had to be farther north already. She assumed Wyatt was following them.
Slowly she rounded the tree trunk and looked north. Far ahead of her, men were moving at a quick pace. Crouching, she dashed across the soft ground from tree to tree, pausing each time to estimate the distance to the men ahead of her.
At the third tree she stopped. A slight rustle behind her sent panic into her limbs. She dove to the ground, her Glock aimed back, as silenced bullets hit the tree trunk.
CHAPTER 52
Steel stood on a tree branch ten feet off the ground, his back pressed against the south side of the trunk. Holding a silenced Glock, he kept it vertical in front of his chest. He hunched his shoulders to stay hidden from anyone coming from the north.
He had climbed up as soon as Christie had alerted him of the north perimeter assault.
Somehow ending things with her had given him a sense of calm. Even if a deep sadness lay buried, he was focused. Still the numbers of men Diego had sent against them felt overwhelming. He had planned for eight, not thirty.
On its far side the north hill ran down to a dirt road. That would be the point of entry. It would take Lucas’s pack only five minutes before they reached his location.
Shots were fired down by the barn. Christie or Clay. He didn’t dare even whisper in case the pack was closer than he thought.
When he heard Christie telling Wyatt she was coming out, his calm seeped away. At least she was with Wyatt—the man knew what he was doing.
Mario would be coming toward him from the east, Clay from the west. He had to hold the center. That left Christie, Wyatt, and Carlos to take care of nine men, with surprise still heavily in their favor. The sooner he could help them the better.
What nagged at him was that he didn’t know if Angel would be with the pack or with the SUV assault. The man was unpredictable and liked to work by himself. Thus it made more sense that he would come in alone. But where?
Not far away he heard the loud calls of a Great Gray Owl, the largest owl in North America. He listened to its loud oowhoo! calls. It brought up a surge of anger again that he had to be here with guns ready to kill people. He wanted to end this insanity, and the men who had brought it to him.
A small rustle made him look left.
A crouched figure holding a machine gun appeared twenty feet east of him, moving down the hill toward the house.
Slowly lowering the Glock, Steel aimed for the man’s hips in case he was wearing Kevlar. Wounded was as good as dead if the wound was serious. Trying for a head shot through the trees was too risky. A tree trunk hid the man for a moment.
When he came into view Steel fired two quick shots. The man collapsed, his head hidden by a tree trunk. Steel pulled his gun back to his chest, deciding to remain where he was. It would be hard for anyone to locate his position in the tree, even if the intruders had a short spread between them and heard the shots.
He spotted another figure thirty feet away to the west. Almost even with him. He began a countdown of five.
At three a shout from the man he had shot interrupted him: “Está en el árbol!”
He jumped to the ground, landing on a spot to the east that he had previously picked out. Bullets thudded into the tree behind him.
Running in a crouch to the next tree, he threw himself on the ground to give himself a better angle on the man he had shot. The killer was sitting up, downhill from him, swinging his machine gun toward him. Steel fired three times. The man slumped into the dirt.
Bullets thumped the ground near him. Without waiting, he scrambled farther east to a log, hurdled it, and sat on the far side, his back to it.
To his east a man was running toward him but fell abruptly as if he’d been punched in the back. Mario. Though Steel couldn’t spot his location.
Muffled machine gun fire came from Mario’s direction. Another man was darting from tree to tree, heading in Steel’s direction. Steel peered over the log to the west. The other killer was running toward him just as fast.
Rolling to his knees, he spotted a large boulder north of his position. It would give him a good vantage point for both men. A risky run though.
Glancing east and west, he tried to time his dash for when the two men were hidden by foliage. He fired one shot at both men, to make them duck for cover, and then bolted.
No shots rang out. He would make it.
He reached the boulder in a dead run, rounded it on the west side, and found himself face-to-face with Angel.
CHAPTER 53
Clay climbed the metal rungs in the tunnel exit, hoping he was behind the intruders.
He pushed the manhole cover up a few inches and peered out. West, east, and north were clear. Pushing it up all the way vertical, he climbed out. He quickly checked south down the hill. Safe.
Closing the cover, which was camouflaged with grass, he hustled to a big tree for cover. Muffled gunshots sounded to the east. Steel and Mario were already engaging the enemy. Christie was right, their friends needed help. But he didn’t enjoy imagining her facing nine guys with just Wyatt and Carlos.
The odds here were worse than in the canyon when they had tried to take Diego. If Christie had chosen to go home, he would have too. But he couldn’t bear the thought of her dying here. Nor could he face his family if he abandoned her.
He had wanted to call Meera, to hear her voice one more time, because he felt there was a chance he could die. That idea had lodged into his brain as soon as Christie said she was going out. There were too many men, even with the tunnels.
Numbers often won battles, and they were heavily outnumbered. Yet he wouldn’t give in to fear. And if he was going to die, he wanted to kill Angel for killing Dale. He wanted that man dead more than anyone he had ever wanted to kill in his life. But he still feared him.
Kneeling down, he unslung the HK416 and did a quick check east along the slope. He stiffened when he picked up a figure about a hundred yards away heading south. Sighting with the scope, he aimed for the man’s head and fired. The man took a nosedive into the ground and didn’t move. That gave him hope.
A bullet bit the trunk near his face.
He jerked back. Another man was moving toward him from the east. Fifty yards away.
He didn’t have a clear shot, so he swung the carbine vertical and switched sides to make sure no one was coming at him from the west. Clear. Leaning farther out on the west side of the tree, he looked north. Another figure appeared, heading toward him.
That unsettled him. He was in front of the line of killers. He debated going back down the tunnel, but there was a high probability they would see him. If he locked the door, he would be limited to the barn, which wouldn’t help anyone.
Sighting on the man to the north, he took a quick shot. The man was protected by trees, but he wanted to slow his advance. He swung east again. The other killer appeared thirty yards away, mostly hidden by trees. His location put him in a dangerous position for a crossfire from the two men. He had to move.
Twenty feet away from him, downslope and east of his position, a massive pine had collapsed. Its shallow roots had pulled a big chunk of ground out with it in an eight-foot-diameter rootball. It would give him better protection than what he had now. And a better angle on the intruder coming from the east.
Making sure nobody was sighting on him, he sprinted, keeping low. Bullets whined around him. He kept going. Something nicked his upper left arm. He almost cried out.
Reaching the rootball, he slid around it to the south side and stepped into the shallow depression left by the pulled roots. Immediately off balance on the uneven ground, he teetered backward. Grabbing one of the broken roots, he clung to it. Regaining his balance, he glanced over his shoulder. And froze.
He was standing on a one-foot-wide ledge that dropped into darkness. Dizziness gripped him. The terrifying prospect of falling paralyzed him for a few seconds. Damn acrophobia! Hanging tightly onto the root, he cautiously leaned backward to see what was below him. A thirty-foot drop to a hill with an eighty-degree slope.
Sweating profusely, he pulled himself back into the rootball, cursing that he hadn’t scouted the hill more thoroughly the day before. He had assumed the whole face of it was a gradual slope, as it appeared from Wyatt’s house below.
He slung the HK416 over his shoulder and drew the silenced SIG. His actions were slowed by his fear of falling backward. Edging out on the east side, he aimed the SIG northeast.
A bullet whined near his face.
He fired blindly twice, just to make the shooter cautious, and pulled back.
Slowly edging out on the other side, he felt nauseous thinking of the drop-off. He spotted the enemy there heading farther west. They had to be talking to each other, intending to get him in a crossfire.
He shoved the SIG into his belt, took the rifle off his shoulder, and sighted on the man. His left arm ached. He wasn’t sure how bad the wound was and he didn’t want to look.
Timing the intruder’s spurts between trees, he kept his finger on the trigger. When the man appeared, he fired three quick shots, one into his legs. The man fell down but crawled along the ground. Clay shot the man in the head, and immediately glimpsed another man coming from the northwest.
He turned around, his back to the rootball, to see if he could move faster by pivoting his feet. His gaze slid down past his toes and dizziness assaulted his senses again. Bad idea.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and slowly turned until he was facing the roots again. He spotted the shooter to the east darting to a tree closer to the edge of the precipice. He fired two quick shots. The killers would soon be able to shoot him at will from behind trees and he wouldn’t have a chance.
He had to get out.
Panicked, he tossed the rifle over the drop-off and drew the SIG. Twisting so his back was to the rootball, he slid down to his butt. His feet and lower legs hung over the edge. He hesitated.
Images of his boys and Meera forced him to move. Slowly twisting, he gripped one of the exposed roots to slow the downward movement of his legs, but they rapidly slid over the edge anyway.
Panicked, he dropped the SIG and grabbed at roots—and felt a sharp pain in his left arm. His chest slid over the drop–off. He desperately grabbed for anything he could find. His legs dangled over emptiness. I’m going to die.
To his right he saw movement. He let go of the roots with his right hand, grabbed the SIG, and fired three times. His left arm burned and he couldn’t hang on. Releasing the root, he clawed at the edge but found only crumbling soil in his fingers.
He was airborne then, with only emptiness beneath him.
CHAPTER 54
Christie saw a blur twenty feet behind her. She fired, but the man had already pulled back out of sight. Keeping perfectly still on the ground, she aimed her SIG at the tree.
The killer fell into view, landing heavily on the ground and not moving. His eyes were open in death. She gaped at the corpse.
“Christie, Wyatt coming out. Don’t shoot.”
“Roger that.”
She scrambled to her feet as Wyatt strode out from the tree. He held a knife in one hand, the Mossberg Shockwave in the other, the rifle slung over a shoulder, and his Glock holstered. Nodding to her, he veered off to her left, running west.
Taking a deep breath, she was thankful Wyatt had been watching her back. She peered north. Eight killers left. Three appeared fifty yards ahead of her, moving fast. To join a crossfire with Carlos and Wyatt she had to get closer.
She stuck the SIG into her jeans and brought the Rattler off her shoulder.
Picking out a large pine, she ran hard, continuing to move from tree to tree. While she ran she caught fading glimpses of Wyatt still moving west. Trees soon obscured her view of him.
In five minutes she stopped behind a tree. Still ahead of her fifty yards, two attackers were kneeling at the edge of the clearing. She put her back to the tree and whispered, “Carlos, Wyatt, I have two ahead of me at the edge of the clearing. Status?”
Wyatt came back first. “I’m farther west. Take them.”
Carlos followed with, “I’m east of the driveway and have two others in sight. Let’s both fire in three.”
Looking again, she now saw only one man at the edge of the
clearing. Edging around the tree, she glimpsed the missing man to the east, running between trees, trying to work his way behind her. She didn’t have a good shot at him and headed north.
Muffled shots northeast of her. Carlos.
Running, crouching low, she tripped. That confused her because the ground seemed level. Flying face forward, she landed on her stomach, still gripping the Rattler. Her calf burned. She realized that she had been shot. Why had they aimed so low?
She painfully crawled forward to a tree and drew herself to a sitting position, her back to the trunk. With her other hand she drew the SIG.
Machine gun fire sounded to the northwest, followed by Wyatt’s Mossberg booming three times.
She put a tiny bit of pressure on her right foot. Sharp pain shot up her leg and she gasped. She hated alarming Steel but panic overwhelmed her.
“I’m shot, calf wound, two men trying to circle me,” she whispered. “Just south of the clearing.”
No one came back to her, making her wonder if anyone else was still alive.
CHAPTER 55
Steel almost collided with Angel. The cartel assassin was running toward him, both of his Glocks held vertically in front of his shoulders. Steel immediately fired point blank.
Angel was already twisting sideways, swinging his left hand at Steel’s face. Steel blocked it with his free hand while trying to head-butt him.
Angel moved his head sideways and brought both guns down. Steel dropped his Glock and used his hands to push Angel’s Glocks wide. Charging forward, he took Angel down hard to his back.
Angel dropped his guns, his hands moving in rapid-fire strikes at Steel’s neck and ribs. Steel grunted, rolled off him, and kicked sideways, hitting Angel’s stomach.
They both scrambled to their feet, eyeing their guns.
Aware that he had little time before the other two men were upon him, Steel charged. He grappled with Angel, trying to get leverage. Both of them tried to trip the other, or stomp on feet or knees, trading and blocking strikes.
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