53
Zoë nervously chewed on her lip as she leaned against one of the small walls that separated the giant windowpanes in the great room, glancing around the wall’s corner often to look outside. She hadn’t needed her father to announce Rosati’s men would attack from that side. It made the most sense for them to do so, as accessing the house through the windows would be easy. However, it also made the most sense for those within the house to take their stand there. It allowed them to see the attackers’ approach and, with any luck, pick them off before they could gain entrance to the house.
Her stomach felt like it was eating itself, burning with her nervousness. She’d made dinner for the men who’d wanted to eat although most, like her, couldn’t. Apprehension ruled the night, and had her in a stranglehold. The dimness of the room didn’t help, the only light available trickled in from the porch lights. The house was dark, better for them, harder for the attacking men, but it did nothing to alleviate her fears. She swore masked men moved in the shadowed corners of the great room, even as she knew that was impossible. The threat was outside this house, not within it.
Ethan kept in touch with the lookouts, and with her father, using a walkie-talkie. Their communication was succinct but frequent, breaking the close to unbearable quiet in the room. As she transferred her gun to her free hand in order to wipe her sweaty hand on her jeans, she caught Cole staring at her. A distance away, only the slight glint of light on his wide eyes allowed her to pick him out. When she made eye contact with him, he smiled encouragingly, his teeth now reflecting that light. She returned the gesture, aware he was trying to put her at ease, but nothing could accomplish that goal.
Sawyer stood close to her, he too looking out the windows. She swore he’d shot her a less than pleasant look a while back, but could’ve been mistaken. It wasn’t as if she was thinking clearly right now. Like Cole and all the others, his presence had more to do with supporting Ethan than her, she was certain of it, but Cole and the others had been gracious. She remembered Skip’s assessment of Sawyer, a man who meant well but worked too hard, and was lacking social skills. Perhaps that was the case. She hadn’t met him before tonight so, really, she shouldn’t be drawing conclusions about him, despite how doing so kept her mind from the imminent danger she knew would descend on the house.
Two constables, Gord and Terry, were also in the room with them. They remained by the windows, surveying the area outside the house. It would be hard to see dark figures approaching outside the circle of light from the porch, but equally hard for any approaching figures to see them in the darkness beyond the lights. Besides, she doubted Rosati’s men would sneak up on the house. Like her father and Ethan, she expected them to arrive in a bold fashion, guns blazing. Men who fed bodies through meat-grinders didn’t strike her as being capable of subtlety.
Skip and the Carson brothers were stationed on the four cardinal directional points of the property, the first line of defense. The plan was for them to call in when they saw vehicles approaching, and the men outside the house, her father, Boone, Rory, Chase, Myles, and two more constables, Nick, and Henry, would then intercept the attackers. It was a solid plan and she knew the best shots were outside the house, well perhaps except for Ethan, but she knew he wouldn’t leave her side. As she wondered if the two constables should be outside as well, perhaps switched out with two of Ethan’s friends, she figured her father had wanted them with her in the unlikely event Rosati and his men got past the men outside the house.
“Check in,” Ethan said into the walkie, “Kit? All clear?” After receiving the all-clear from Kit, he repeated his questions to Zeke, and then Shane.
“Skip?” There was no answer. “Skip? All clear?”
When he still didn’t receive an answer, Ethan scowled as he looked to her. She saw his concern for Skip, along with the fear Rosati’s men had penetrated that side of the property. As her chest tightened, she knew they had. They were coming.
“We’re going to assume that side is compromised,” came her father’s voice over the walkie. “Both Bukowskis, Patton, and I will check it out.”
“Understood,” Ethan returned, and then blew out a loud breath.
He was visibly anxious, but she could see how he tried to keep a steady countenance, for her benefit no doubt. How could she have denied her love for him, held him at bay, pretended she didn’t want to be with him? He was all she wanted. Now that she had him, she could lose him in an instant. A single bullet, a tiny piece of metal, could snuff out his life as quickly as he’d doused the lights in this room.
Biting her fingernails now, a habit she hated seeing and had never before done, she glanced at Ethan occasionally as her stomach churned. It would take several minutes until her father and the others reached Skip’s location, and each second that passed stretched out almost painfully. If anything happened to Skip, she didn’t think she’d ever forgive herself. What if something happened to Ethan? As the realization she’d rather die with him than live without him slammed into her, she swallowed against the enormous, hard lump in her throat. No, they wouldn’t die. They deserved a life together. Did they, though? Did she deserve anything after being deceitful with so many people, many of who were here now to protect her? What had she done to deserve their caring for her, so much that they were willing to put their lives in danger for her?
The walkie crackled, and then Kit’s panicked voice sounded from it. “Ethan, two cars are barreling up your driveway.”
“Do not engage,” Ethan barked, “you, Shane, and Zeke, head to Skip’s location.”
“We’re coming back,” her father’s voice issued again, “get those other men inside the house now!”
Her heart pounding ferociously, she realized that whatever had happened with Skip was a ruse to draw men away from the house. The three who remained out there were sitting ducks. Cole raced to the door to unlock it. Movement outside the windows caught her attention and she turned to see two cars race up and come to a screeching stop before the house, no more than ten feet from the windows.
“They’re here!” Sawyer bellowed. “Get down!”
As she and Ethan took cover behind one of the small walls, her peripheral vision caught Sawyer duck behind the next one, and Gord and Terry the next. Gunfire erupted, and she covered her head. Shards of glass flew all around her as bullets tore into the room. She heard them hitting objects, walls, floors, and furniture most likely, not that she’d chance a look. The sound was deafening and hurt her ears. It went on for long minutes, bullets tearing into the room, pinging off items, the flashing of muzzle fire lighting up the darkened room. She saw bullet holes in the furniture, a pillow spun to the floor, holes appeared in the wall opposite her. They looked huge and she wondered what ammo Rosati’s forces were using. Would the thick logs that formed the walls be enough protection? Could bullets penetrate them, or maybe work their way through the small spaces between the timbers? They had no other cover and certainly couldn’t seek out any.
The comfort of Ethan beside her was all that kept terrified tears from erupting. She concentrated on the warmth of his body, the security of him being so near. If anything happened to him—Stop it! Keep your shit together. Get ready to return fire when you have the chance. She embraced that voice, the one that sounded like her dad. Survival was paramount, and everything else was dealt with after the danger passed.
When the barrage of bullets ended suddenly, she reasoned all Rosati’s men outside had fired collectively and were now all reloading. Peering around the edge of the wall, she focused on a man, took aim, and fired. He fell back. Hearing shots from her side, she knew Ethan and the others were returning fire. She winced with how much louder these shots were, her ears screaming their protest at such noise, especially in the wake of what they’d already endured. Spying a man in dark clothing ramming a magazine in an AR-15 style rifle, she leapt back behind the wall. Gunfire from outside started up again. Ethan grunted loudly as he banged into her retaking his cover, and she knew he’d been shot.
Before she could see where or how bad, his arms wrapped around her, protecting her, as the bullets continued to pummel the great room. She heard them hitting the outside walls, certain the men outside targeted them now, realizing it was the only cover she and the others had. Her ears filled with the thudding sounds, she pictured chunks of wood breaking apart. Together, she and Ethan slid down the wall, his body wrapped around hers, his back to the wall. He knew what she did. They were moments from death. Her ears hurt so badly she wanted to cover them but instead she nuzzled her face in the crook of Ethan’s shoulder and clung to him. It was so unfair to die now, just when they’d found each other. The future they could have shared flashed through her mind, years of happy togetherness, raising their children, living out their lives on the ranch. She’d never imagined a life like that before meeting him and now it was all she wanted. It would be denied her, however. The end had come for them both. Unfair, yes, but here nonetheless. As she closed her eyes, she decided that dying in Ethan’s arms wasn’t the worst way to go.