Defiance (The Defending Home Series Book 1)

by William H. Weber

  They parked along the street, Zach hopping off and rushing inside. The other bikers were slower to dismount, removing their helmets and setting them on the seats of their rides.

  Zach went from room to room, frantically calling Colton’s name. Dannyboy and Hawkeye followed. He’d spoken at length about his boy and perhaps on some level they too felt some sense of kinship with him. They were about the same age after all.

  After searching the entire house and finding nothing, he went to the kitchen, wondering whether they’d fled to a government shelter. It was a long shot, Zach knew. He hadn’t seen any since Colorado, a distance that represented several hundred miles.

  He stood with his hands on the kitchen sink, staring out the window, when the cross in the backyard caught his eye. The other two noticed the change too.

  “What is it, boss?” Hawkeye asked.

  Pushing past them, Zach went into the backyard. He hoped to hell it wasn’t what he thought it was, but how could it be anything else? The grave marker was a simple wooden cross, the name Lori etched across the front. Above that were three words. Miss you forever.

  The unexpected wave of sorrow he felt wash over him at the loss of his ex-wife was tempered by a new sense of hope. Colton had written those words. Zach didn’t have proof, the kind that might hold up in a court of law or anything, but he had a gut feeling and his guts were rarely wrong.

  “Zach,” Dannyboy said from inside. “I think you better get out here. The cops just pulled up.”

  Chapter 43

  Zach

  Zach made it out of the house in time to see three cruisers blocking the road, lights flashing. Zach and his gang hadn’t committed any crime in being here, but the men and women in his posse hated the cops about as much as he did, so it wasn’t any surprise they were taking cover behind their bikes, their weapons drawn.

  The loudspeaker from one of the cop cars began blaring. “This is Sheriff Gaines. Encendido is currently on lockdown. We ask that you kindly turn around and cross back over the town line.”

  “Kindly,” Zach said to himself. “How cute.” They outnumbered the cops by six to one, so if the cops were dumb enough to draw down, there would only be one outcome. Zach walked to a spot halfway between his gang and the cops. He saw the sheriff still hiding in his car and motioned him forward. Slowly, the sheriff got out and the two men stood staring at one another.

  “I know you,” Zach said, surprised. “Randy, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right, Zach.”

  “Where’s that old geezer Joe Wilcox?”

  “Dead,” Randy replied without flinching.

  “You used to own the scrapyard, I seem to remember.”

  “Still do.”

  Zach tilted his head. “Bet you’re not doing such brisk business these days.”

  The corner of Randy’s mouth rose into a smirk. “You’re right there. Listen, we don’t want any trouble. But you and your men are gonna need to leave town. There’s a major operation about to begin.”

  “A major operation,” Zach repeated. “Sounds serious.”

  “Believe me, you won’t want to be here to find out.”

  The intensity in the sheriff’s eyes piqued his curiosity, but not enough to probe any further. “We have no intention of sticking around,” Zach told him. “We’re here for one thing and one thing only—my son.”

  Randy’s expression changed and that made Zach’s bones fill with dread. He clenched his teeth.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Colton.”

  That strange look on the sheriff’s face grew more pronounced and Zach wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

  “You know where he is?” For a fleeting moment, the hope had returned.

  “I’m sorry to tell you, but he died,” Randy said, his hands resting at his sides, his expression now a mask of pity.

  Zach was biting back the pain. “Flu got him?”

  Randy shook his head. “I wish that were the case. He was killed.”

  Zach’s head snapped to attention. “What?”

  “Murdered by Dale Hardy. We haven’t been able to arrest him ’cause he’s holed up with more firepower than we can handle.” Randy motioned to the pistol on his belt.

  Zach could feel those red rings around his eyes glowing scarlet. He knew perfectly well where Dale lived. Dale was the boy’s uncle. But that he would do something like this...

  “You sure?” Zach growled, his voice sounding like the Harleys they’d driven in on.

  “I swear to God,” Randy said, holding up three fingers in the Scout salute, as though there was any connection.

  But connection or not, Zach had heard enough.

  “We’ll go with you to help arrest Dale,” Randy started to say.

  “You won’t need to,” Zach told him coolly. “I’ll take care of him myself.”

  Chapter 44

  Dale and Shane regarded the barbed-wire fence with pride. While it didn’t yet surround the entire house, it created a nice obstacle for anyone attempting a frontal assault on what was quickly becoming a fortress. With Sandy’s help and all hands on deck, even the retractable stairs would soon be done.

  “When we were at the sheriff’s office the other day looking for Sandy,” Dale said, removing his gloves and stuffing them into his back pocket, “I noticed you froze when that deputy drew on us.”

  Shane grabbed the wheelbarrow with the remaining barbed wire and began heading for the garage, careful to avoid the traps. “Maybe for you killing someone is as easy as breathing.”

  “I’m not bringing this up to make you feel bad,” Dale said, following behind him. “We have no formal military training, but we’ve been thrown into a crappy situation where it would sure come in handy.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  Dale sighed. “I’m saying we made mistakes that night, Shane, more than a few, and it’s in our best interest to be clear about those mistakes so they don’t happen again. One was hesitating in the face of danger.”

  “You sure didn’t hesitate and now we’ve got cops’ blood on our hands.”

  Dale tugged at his brother’s arm. “I never forced you to come along. We both knew the risks and it turns out we were right.” Dale watched Sandy and Brooke, steadying the stairs as Walter and Colton attached the last few steps. “Who knows what might have happened if we’d failed to act.”

  Shane didn’t respond.

  “You blame me for everything that’s happened, don’t you?” Dale said.

  Shane stopped and set the wheelbarrow down. “Look, I’m thankful you brought us in, especially Nicole’s family. You didn’t need to do that. Although I’m sure there was a better option than declaring war on the whole town.”

  Dale bent down and scooped up a patch of dirt and slowly let it trickle between his fingers. “Dad gave us this land, entrusted it to us. This isn’t something we bought on eBay. It’s been in our family for over a hundred years and I wasn’t going to let anyone snatch it out from under us. Don’t be fooled into thinking this is only about water, Shane. It’s about our right of ownership. If they can take that, then everything else starts to fall away bit by bit.”

  “You’re wrong,” Shane said. “Dad didn’t entrust the land to us. He entrusted it to you.”

  The sting of Shane’s comment sliced through Dale’s flesh. He was about to respond when Duke began to bark.

  “You hear that?” he asked his brother.

  Shane paused and listened. “Sounds like motorcycles,” he said.

  “A lot of them. Leave the wheelbarrow,” Dale told his brother as he raced off toward the house, the Remington over his shoulder, smacking against his back as he ran.

  Duke was still barking when Dale ordered everyone inside.

  “What’s going on?” Brooke asked.

  “Don’t ask questions, just do it.” He called for Duke, who gave one final bark before running into the house. Dale, Shane and Colton dragged the still unfinished stairc
ase inside the garage and pulled down the door, locking it.

  “Are we being attacked?” Walter asked, following them inside the main part of the house.

  “I’m not sure,” Dale replied. “A large number of bikes are heading this way and I won’t be caught outside just in case.”

  Firing positions reinforced with sandbags had been set up along the windows inside every bedroom, which gave them nearly a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree field of fire. Thick burlap curtains had been nailed over each window in order to catch flying glass and act as a kind of visor, a sniper’s trick Walter had shown them. With the lower floors largely secure, they could shuffle manpower, weapons and ammunition from station to station as needed.

  Colton and Brooke had the southern position. Shane and Nicole took the western window looking out over the pumphouse. Dale and Walter guarded the front while Sandy and Ann watched the eastern approach. Walter had suggested a sniper’s nest in the barn behind the house, but in the heat of the moment, Dale hadn’t thought to send anyone out there.

  Soon the bikes began to arrive, stopping in front of the house one by one, and Walter begged Dale to hold his fire. They didn’t know yet what these men wanted, nor did they want them to scatter before they could open up.

  Dale’s Remington was zeroed for a hundred yards. Beside him, Walter peered through the close-range sighting system on his AR. Everyone had been given earplugs they were instructed to keep on them at all times just in case. Walter pointed to his own ears as a reminder to Dale, who stuck a sweaty hand into his pocket, his fingers trembling as he flattened the foamy tips before inserting them into his ears.

  When he peered outside, more than a dozen bikers were arrayed on the road in front of them. Many had taken cover behind the engines of their motorcycles. Some had abandoned their bikes altogether to hide behind trees or boulders on the other side of the street. A few were using cover to circle around the sides.

  “Think these are more of Sheriff Gaines’ hired goons?” Walter asked, peeling his eye away from the scope.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Dale said.

  A second later, a voice shouted at them from outside. “Dale Hardy, you’re a coward and a murderer and today is the day you die.”

  The bikers opened up with a salvo of bullets. Dale and Walter ducked behind the sandbags, keeping low to the floor as rounds pierced the walls and tore through the window. Bits of drywall and wood rained down on their heads.

  A moment later, the firing stopped and the voice spoke again. “We’re only here for Dale,” the man said. “He killed my son and he’s gonna hang for it. Send him out and we’ll spare your lives.”

  Dale knew that voice, but couldn’t place it. Nor could he tell whose son he was talking about. He’d been forced to kill a number of men in the last week. Could it be one of the deputies? It hardly seemed likely.

  “Who’s he accused of murdering?” Walter yelled.

  There was a pause.

  “Dad,” Brooke said from the southern position. “Three men are in the backyard, digging up the vegetables.”

  “This is Dale,” Dale shouted. “You tell me who I killed and I’ll consider coming out there.”

  “My son and your own nephew,” the voice said. “Colton Baird.”

  Dale’s shocked gaze shifted from Walter to the doorway where Colton was standing.

  “Zach,” Dale yelled. “That you?”

  “Who else would it be? Now get out here and face it like a man.”

  Colton ran to the window and Dale had to hold him back.

  “Dad,” Colton shouted. “It’s me, Colton.”

  There was no response and Dale wasn’t surprised. He didn’t know why Zach thought he’d murdered his son, but he could just imagine how confused the former convict was at this very moment.

  Colton ran downstairs before Dale could stop him. He sprang to his feet, but the kid was gone in a flash. By the time Dale made it to the garage, it was already open and Colton was outside.

  “Hold your fire,” Dale yelled. “Colton’s coming out.”

  Chapter 45

  Zach

  Zach watched the boy running toward him and couldn’t help feeling as though he were seeing a younger version of himself. “Hold your fire, boys,” he ordered his men, his mind reeling. A swirling sandstorm of emotion was whipping around inside his head. If this truly was his son, now twenty-one years old, then why had Sheriff Gaines bothered lying to him?

  Colton came within five feet and stood there, the two men studying each other.

  “You got your old man’s good looks, kid,” Zach said.

  Colton smiled. “I like your wheels.”

  Zach made a quick glance behind him and grinned. “Come here and give your old man a hug.”

  Colton did, Zach patting him firmly on the back afterwards and holding him at arm’s length. He wanted to get another look at him. Make sure this was real.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited,” Zach said. “What it took to get here.”

  Colton looked around at the bikers around him, gruff and tattooed men with large arms and equally large bellies. “I knew you’d come. No one believed me, but I knew it.”

  Zach ruffled his son’s hair and strapped his half helmet back on. He let out a loud whistle, recalling the bikers who had circled around the back of Dale’s house.

  “Are you leaving?” Colton asked, worried. “You just got here.”

  “That sheriff of yours is a real lying... piece of work,” Zach said, censoring himself in his son’s presence. “I got a feeling he was trying to play us off each other and I don’t like being played.”

  “He told you I was dead.”

  “That’s right,” Zach said. “And now I’m gonna make him dead.” He started his engine, and twisted the throttle.

  “I’ll come with you,” Colton said, anxious not to let his dad out of his sight. “But there’s something you need to know. Sandy says the sheriff’s called on a bunch of drug dealers from across the border.”

  “I eat drug dealers for breakfast,” Zach scoffed. “You stay here in Fort Knox where it’s safe. We won’t be long.”

  Zach and the others rode off, the sound from their departing bikes nearly deafening. Through his side mirror, Zach watched his son fade away and then wave. Don’t worry, he thought. I didn’t come this far to die now.

  The bikers were heading back into town, a few of the more bloodthirsty gang members speeding ahead, eager to kill them some cops. They were drawing even with Encendido High School when something tossed the first two men clean off their bikes. Zach and the others braked hard, coming inches from a cord that had been strung across the road. Machine-gun fire opened up from both sides, cutting deep grooves into the asphalt, marking the bullet’s path as they drew closer and then right on top of them.

  Drainage ditches on either side of the road provided some cover and he ordered his men to split up and return fire. Zach followed his own advice, diving into the left hand gulley and pulling out his .44.

  The enemy seemed to be positioned on the school roof behind them and also in the row of houses before them. It was a classic ambush and Zach couldn’t help feeling like his hot headedness had gotten him and his men into a serious bind. Staying low, he worked his way along the ditch, passing a handful of bikers who were springing up every few seconds to shoot back at their attackers.

  Next to him was Hawkeye, carrying an AR and trying to keep his head down. “Any suggestions, sir?”

  “Work our way around,” Zach suggested. “Take ’em from behind before they cut us to ribbons.” No sooner had he said the words than a biker beside him was struck in the forehead and killed as he rose to return fire.

  “Cops in this town are crazy, man,” Hawkeye said, staring in fear at the dead body.

  “I don’t think these are the Sheriff’s men,” Zach said, but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he called out for covering fire. The bikers came up one by one, shooting a variety of weapons and pistols.
Zach and Hawkeye scrambled out of the ditch and ran to the side of the closest house.

  They made their way into the backyard and came upon three mean looking Spaniards busy loading weapons, their arms covered in tattoos. Perhaps in their arrogance, the three men had been caught completely off guard. Zach leveled his .44 and fired. Hawkeye opened up as well, shooting from the hip with his AR, killing all of them at once.

  The house’s sliding glass door was open and Zach rushed inside. As he entered, bullets from his own men firing from the ditch tore into the house. Zach and Hawkeye took cover.

  They heard footsteps descending the staircase, shouting in Spanish. Zach flipped open his revolver, replaced his three spend rounds and snapped it closed. He was ready right as the first one reached the ground floor. Zach drilled him twice in the chest, sending parts of him splashing against the wall. Hawkeye did the same, killing the next man, but not before the third shoved his AK around the corner and sprayed wildly. Two bullets struck Hawkeye in the chest and head. He fell to the floor, dead.

  Zach looked on for a moment, his mind catching up with what his eyes had just witnessed.

  A moment later came the sound of more men shuffling down those stairs and worse than that, a slackening in the firefight outside. Zach and his men were likely losing. If there was one thing he knew well, it was when to retreat. Firing off a handful of rounds at the guy with the AK, Zach bolted back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door. He made a silent prayer that Hawkeye would somehow find mercy when he met his creator.

  Just as he’d feared, the Mexican gang members were exiting the school across the street, intend on finishing off the handful of bikers who remained. Hopping over the ditch and heading for the Harley he’d left in the street, Zach ordered them to retreat. Those who turned to run were immediately cut down. A few others made it to their motorcycles and struggled to get them started.