by Ronie Kendig
Soon, the sound of running water filled the hall. Washing away the lifeblood that had been his father’s. Lifeblood that had steered Colton through bad choices, saved him from heartache, and guided him with wisdom and love. Lifeblood now being washed down the drain.
If no one had come close to the house, and his father was dead—the thought wrangled more ferocity out of Colton than he thought possible. That meant one thing. “Sniper.”
Max merely waited.
Colton ground his teeth and looked at his mother, devoured by her grief. “Mom.”
Gaze glued to his father, she hook her head.
“Mom, take Mickey to the shelter.” When she didn’t respond, Colton moved to her side and squatted, cutting off her view of his father’s bloody form. Dazed eyes came to his. “Mom,” he said, softly and gently as he touched her shoulder. “Take Mickey to the shelter till we get this sorted.”
She blinked, as if her thoughts had just come into focus. “Shelter?”
He squeezed gently. “I need your help to keep her safe. Can you do that?”
“Yes …,” she said, her affirmation weak at first, then stronger. “Yes.” She climbed to her feet with Colton’s help.
He walked her into the hall. When she shifted and tried to glance back, he shouldered into her way again. “Let’s remember him strong, okay?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. Her smile wobbled against a trembling chin. She patted his chest. “He was so proud of you.” Her blue irises
glossed as tears spilled over.
Colton choked back his own tears. He gave her a curt nod. “He’d want you safe.”
“You’ll take care of your mama when I’m gone. “
His knees almost buckled as his father’s voice echoed loudly through his head. “Let’s get you to the shelter.”
Crack!
Midas lunged toward them and slid along the slick wood floors. “Shooter at the side! Shooter at the side!”
The attack that killed her mother wasn’t half as terrifying as this.
Because this time, she was to blame.
Piper stuffed her guilt, stuffed her panic, and forced herself to stay calm. Getting panicked, getting stupid meant getting killed.
“Where’s the shelter?” Max sidled up next to them, his back against the wall as he pulled out his weapon and checked it.
“My room. Gun closet. Behind there,” Colton said. He turned toward her and yanked McKenna out of her hands.
“I’ve got her.”
Max grunted. “We’ll cover you and the women. Get them to safety. Regroup …” He eyed the living room.
“Laundry room.” Colton mumbled something else to his friends as he drew his mother closer. Finally, he glanced back—not at Piper, but at his mom. “Okay, run as fast and low as you can to the shelter.”
“Where?” Piper let her question die on her lips. She didn’t deserve shelter. In fact, shouldn’t she walk out and offer herself to the shooters? They wouldn’t shoot her. They’d snatch her … and then they’d hunt down her father and kill him.
But what did anything matter anymore? Because of her, they’d just killed Colton’s father. Her gaze drifted toward the window. How would she let them know it was her coming out? Would they just take her and leave this family alone?
She had to try.
Colton would never let her do this. She could see the thirst for vengeance in his brilliant blue eyes. He’d want to kill those men. And while she wanted those men dead, too, she couldn’t bear to risk McKenna’s life, or his mom’s, or Colton’s.
As it was, she’d already lost everything.
“I’ll cover you,” Max said as he darted to the kitchen entry and crouched. “Go!”
With a crying McKenna in his arms, Colton pushed his mother ahead of him and grabbed Piper’s hand, drawing her to her feet. He nudged them onward, his mom in front. Quickly, he released her as they hunch-ran toward the small hall leading to the laundry room.
Piper slowed. Glanced toward the dining room, past the table and bay window to the front door. She could end this all. Right now. Save everyone.
She straightened. Turned.
Gunfire erupted around them.
Behind her, she heard Colton hustling his mother and daughter to safety. As it should be. He should protect those he loved.
As if the door held the answer to all the problems, to all her heartache, Piper took that first step.
As she crossed the threshold into the dining room wood splintered and peppered her face. She blinked, feeling disoriented as she glanced at the doorjamb. A hole gaped through it. Warmth slid down her face. Gingerly, she touched the spot … surprised to find the slick dark red of blood on her fingertips.
“Piper!” Mickey’s scream shattered the slow motion shock that engulfed her.
Realizing she’d been seen, Piper rushed forward.
Pressure clamped onto her from behind. Dragged her back.
She screamed. Grabbed the doorjamb.
“What’re you doing?” Colton roared in her ear.
“Let me go. Just let me go,” she cried as she clawed to be free of him. “I can stop this. I can stop it.”
Without warning, she was lifted off her feet and flung around. Tossed over Colton’s shoulders, she watched the front door recede in the darkness. Only then did she realize she couldn’t let him take her back.
She wiggled. “Put me down. Please. I can end this.”
But the bounding way he jogged through the house cut off the words and objections. He made a sudden right from the hall, and darkness devoured them.
“I can’t get the combination to work,” came his mother’s voice, stressed and slightly pitched.
Colton planted Piper on her feet, but wedged her between the wall and his body with one hand on her shoulder. “Once in, secure the locks. Do not open up until I’m here and give you the password.”
His mother nodded, her face gaunt and tear-stained as she huddled in the corner, smoothing McKenna’s blond hair against her shuddering form.
Piper dropped her gaze, hating herself for this. For causing this. For tearing his family apart.
A door groaned, then hissed. Colton pushed against the heavy steel barrier. “Go on.”
Mrs. Neeley rushed into the small room, and instantly a light sprang to life, activated by motion. She set McKenna on a small bed and turned back to the opening. “Come on, Piper.”
Piper jerked to Colton. “Please, let me go out there.”
His muscle popped and danced along his jaw. He pushed her into the safe room.
“No,” she said, trying to hold her own.
“Get in the room.” The terse tone knifed her resolve.
Then hardened it. She’d lost him. He’d never forgive her. She had absolutely nothing to lose. “I’m not going in there.” She lunged toward him.
He grabbed her shoulders. “You don’t have a choice.”
“I don’t deserve to be in there.” Hot tears streaked down her face.
“You got that right!” His eyes blazed.
“Please—it’s me. They want me. My father. They want to get me to find my father. I can stop this. I can. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Colton.” A cry wracked her, but she gulped it and rushed on. “I never meant for this to happen. I love you, and I love your family.”
Wrestling him was like wrestling a tank. But she had to try. Tried to wiggle past his oversized chest. Holding her upper arms, he pinned her against the wall.
The sob escaped this time. She dropped her head forward, sobbing.
His grip lessened.
Piper seized the lessening and tried to shove past him.
Colton slammed her between the wall and his body. “I don’t have time for this or you. Now get in there!”
She went limp and fell into his chest, gripping his T-shirt. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She cried harder. “Let me”—shudder—”do this. Let me go”—shudder—”out there. They’ll leave you alone.” She hiccupped. “Please.�
� She looked up into his eyes. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I never wanted you or your family to get hurt. It’s why I tried to leave. I love them. I love you.”
The raging storm outside had nothing on the volatile darkness that brewed in his face. Lips taut, nostrils flared, he pierced her with a lethal glare. “Get. In. The. Shelter.”
“Piper, come on,” his mother’s gentle voice drew her out of the stinging rejection so clear in Colton’s expression.
Stumbling into the small chamber with his mom, Piper couldn’t look at Mrs. Neeley or McKenna. Instead, she dropped into a heap on the floor and buried her head in her arms.
“Seal the vault. Don’t let her go anywhere. Don’t tell her the combination. If she tries anything, shoot her.”
“Oh, Colton.”
“I mean it. Don’t defy me, Mom.”
“Now, that’s enough. Just—”
“If I see her outside, I will nail her.”
Even above Piper’s stuttering breath, she heard his mother gasp. “Colton, don’t—”
“She brought them here. It’s her fault Pop is dead. Don’t let her out.”
With a morose groaning, the steel door swung shut. Thud. And with it went any hope for … hope.
Yeshua … forgive me. There was no way out of this. Her selfishness had killed a very good man. Her goal of keeping her father alive had cost Colton’s father his life. Colton would never understand. Or forgive her. She didn’t deserve forgiveness.
A warm pressure against her side drew Piper’s head up. She looked to the right.
McKenna pressed against her, and when Piper lifted her arm, the little girl laid her head in her lap. “I don’t like when Daddy gets mad. It scares me.” Blue eyes peered up at her. “Does it scare you?”
More tears streamed down her face as she nodded mutely. If only this precious four-year-old could understand how scared—no, terrified—Piper was at this moment.
“Nana says Daddy’ll be better once he calms down. We shouldn’t take it personally.”
Piper took in a shuddering breath. Personally was the only way to take it because she’d earned his hatred. She braved a glance at Colton’s mother, who sat on the edge of the cot, staring at her feet.
I robbed her of her husband.
Again, Piper dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.
Tiny, cool arms wrapped around her shoulders—but not quite all the way. “I love you, Piper.” McKenna’s sweet voice was a balm to her soul. “God will make it all better. Right, Nana?”
Piper couldn’t look. Didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to hear or see the woman’s scathing hatred for what she’d caused.
“Let’s just pray, McKenna dear.” His mother’s voice sounded unsure and strained. “That’s the best we can do.”
The woman’s quiet words battered Piper’s desperation and plucked the last thread of control from her fingers. “It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I … I don’t imagine you did.” Mrs. Neeley looked down again.
Piper stared at Mrs. Neeley through blurry eyes. She used her sleeves to dry her tears. “How … how can you be so? … I killed your husband!”
CHAPTER 15
What do we know?”
Colton passed Max a carbine. “At least one shooter, probably not working alone.”
“Why do you say that?” Midas glanced over his shoulder from where he kept point.
“Sniper’s shooting … What’s he planning to do, kill us all?”
With a shrug, Midas turned back to the hall he monitored. “He’s got the lead. Why not?”
Threading his arms through a flak vest, Colton shook his head. “No. They came for Piper.”
Max seemed unfazed as he went over the M4 with a practiced eye.
The news brought Midas around. “Piper?” He hadn’t been there the night Colton, Max, and Griffin cleaned up after the mess at Piper’s home.
“Don’t ask because I don’t know.” He knew people were after her. The why was another thing. And the truth of that grated on Colton.
“That’s going to change,” Max said as he donned his own vest. “What’s the plan?”
He appreciated his friend’s like-mindedness. “I’m going to the roof. I can get there through the loft. I’m going to find them and take them out.”
“Whoa,” Midas said. “Don’t we want information from these guys?”
Colton couldn’t hide the glare. “They aren’t here to talk. If they were, they’d have rung the doorbell.”
With a curt nod, Midas accepted it.
Max pulled a hat brim down low. “I’m going to head out the back, see if I can track down the movement we caught out by the corral.”
“Be careful,” Colton said. “Tucker ain’t had the hay loaded, so there’s lots of places for them to ambush us from. If you can get to the gazebo, there are enough shadows to conceal you—but not if they have thermals.”
“Which you thought they did.”
“Which I plan to remedy first thing.”
Max waited.
“The only place they could’ve gotten such a clean line of sight on my father was at the old Johnson house across the way. It’s been empty for the last two years. Nobody’d know if they were there.”
“Except you.”
Grim at his plan, Colton nodded as he passed out the ear mics. “And I don’t take kindly to trespassers.”
“I’m going to the barn.” Midas slung an M16 around his shoulder and then stuffed a Glock in his leg holster. “Man, you sure know how to stock up.” He grinned as he assessed his weaponry. “What an arsenal!”
“It wasn’t meant to be an arsenal. Just …” His heart squeezed. He gripped his Remington tight, his pulse thundering. “It’s what we used to do, my pop and me. Collect guns.” His graze raked over the treasure. The early nickel Remington Model 1875, single action Army revolver. Or the Winchester 1873 Saddle Ring Carbine with the special butt stamp.
The ache burned hard and deep. He’d never see his father’s eyes glow as he worked to restore any of the antiquated weapons or as they stalked gun shows and dealers to unearth the next treasure.
Max patted his shoulder. “We’ll get ‘em.”
Colton wished he could say he was okay, that he’d compartmentalized again. But he wasn’t, he hadn’t. Everything churned like a tornado through his gut. “Let’s do this.”
Again, Midas gave that cockeyed grin. “I almost feel sorry for these unfriendlies. They don’t know who they’re messing with.”
Colton hiked up the stairs, flanked right, and headed into the loft. As he moved, he heard Midas and Max leave the house. With each step, he reminded himself that if he didn’t calm the rage, he’d never nail the target. Even as his foot hit the top step, the sound of gunfire cracked the stormy night.
“Shooter west of property.” Midas grunted through the coms. “In position, negative contact.”
“Tucker’s hay. That’s gotta be where he’s hiding.” Practiced. All too practiced at shutting down his emotional pool, Colton reached for the string dangling from the ceiling. He slung the Remington over his shoulder and tugged on the knob.
“Negative line of sight,” Midas whispered.
The panel pulled downward, and a ladder unfolded. He hustled up the steps, flattening himself as he dragged himself over the woodplank floor. Then, he turned back and drew the ladder back up. Once he secured the latch, Colton belly-crawled to the side.
He didn’t need to get close to the slats in the vent. Not with his scope. Still, he prayed the sniper hadn’t located him. Coming up the backside of the house, he hoped there’d been enough walls and concrete blocking his thermal pattern. Because if the sniper did have thermal imaging, as Colton suspected, things were about to get mighty interesting.
“In position,” Frogman announced. “Negative contact.”
Things were a mite too negative for Colton. Time to fix that.
He lay with
his arm folded under the stock of his Remington 700 and peered through the scope. Black flashed against the reticle. Colton adjusted, and the scope peeked through the slats. Across the front yard. Through the pouring elements and dirt road. Straight through the sycamore trees to the abandoned house. He lifted his head and used his own thermals.
“Cowboy in position.” He wouldn’t say it. Wouldn’t admit he hadn’t found the sniper. That opened too many possibilities. Besides, he’d just set up shop. He scanned the roofline, taking extra time with the dormers and the ridiculous turret.
Jaw clenched, he lowered the thermal to the top floor. Swept from side to side. Nothing. Colton frowned. That didn’t make sense. A sniper went to high ground for the best possible advantage. Why couldn’t he find him?
Come on, you piece of dirt. Where are you?
Though common sense defied it, he probed the lower level. Everything bled a cold, heartless shade of blue. But no red or yellow, nothing indicating heat signatures.
“Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord. “
Colton blinked away the scripture and settled his finger in the trigger well. Refocused on finding the coward who’d gunned down his father in cold blood. His father … who had on his pajamas and merely wanted to climb under the covers and get a good night’s rest. His father.
Through ragged breathing, Colton stared through the thermal scope. If he had to walk over there and stuff the bullet between the guy’s eyes, he would.
The colors shifted. Red! His pulse sped. He started to ease back the trigger—but then stopped as the blur of red registered. Cat. He bit back a curse. Blood pumping, anger churning, he let out a shaky breath. Chided himself for being so out of control.
On the right side of the house, Colton heard weapons’ fire.
“Tango down,” Midas said with a grunt.
Which fueled Colton’s desire to find this puke who’d sniped his father. Calming his breathing, he trailed the thermals along the house again. First floor. Second floor. Roofline. Second—wait!
A blue form … with a little green and yellow … shifted. A smudge of red showed, but just barely. The genius must be lying with a cooling pack or something.