CHAPTER ELEVEN

Seth was not a patient man. He handed his wife the shotgun. The 12-gauge had more stopping power than her handgun.

He wanted—needed—to take action. To hunt down anyone who threatened his family. He would not sit and wait for whoever was outside in the dark to come after them. Forty-five minutes was too long. Long enough for the shooter to reposition himself with a clear view of the back of the house. Or to pick off the ambulance crew as it arrived . . .

The options were endless.

“You don’t know how many of them are out there,” Carly said in a grim voice.

“I know.” The Dodge brothers, Wade Pierce, Terry Reece, Shawn Collins. Any of them could be outside.

There was always the possibility that they were all working together . . .

“Seth?” Gabe called from the kitchen.

Seth went to the doorway. Gabe was struggling to remove his uniform shirt. Blood soaked the bandage on his head, and his movements had spurred more bleeding from his leg wound.

“Gabe, you have to hold still,” Carly said. “The ambulance is still at least a half hour away.”

But Gabe continued to squirm. “Take my vest.”

Seth’s body armor was in the trunk of his car.

“Good thinking.” Carly switched gears and helped Gabe strip down to his T-shirt. Then she added another layer to each of his bandages. “No more moving.”

Gabe nodded, slumping to the floor.

Carly wrapped another layer of rolled gauze around his leg.

Then Seth donned Gabe’s vest and tightened the Velcro straps. His finger stopped on a dimple in the Kevlar over his ribs.

A bullet.

Gabe had actually been shot three times. His vest had saved his life.

Seth took a dark jacket from the closet and tugged a black knit cap over his blond hair. He checked the load on his Glock, then added a knife in a sheath to his belt.

Just in case things got personal.

“Your mom has the front door,” Seth said to Carly.

Seth’s mother-in-law was the kindest woman alive, unless you threatened her family. Then she’d put a bullet in your ass faster than you could blink. “Bruce is covering the back. You cover Gabe and the kids in case someone breaches the perimeter?”

Carly nodded. “I love you.”

“Love you more.” Seth pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

He meant each word. He would kill—or die—for her in a heartbeat.

Seth pointed at Bruce. “Stay here and protect them. We don’t know how many men are out there, so hold your position no matter what.”

Bruce nodded grimly.

Seth had turned on all the outside lights except the one over the side door. He slipped out into the darkness. The shooter had used the branches of the trees by the road like a deer blind, but he’d had plenty of time to move to a new location.

Sticking to the shadows, Seth ran across the grass. The downpour soaked his clothes and hat in a few seconds, but the limited visibility would also provide him with some cover.

Seth circled the yard, approaching the trees from the back side. Water splashed under his feet, but the storm covered any sound of his footsteps. He crept through the trees. There were only a half dozen of them, all mature oaks, and their branches were all empty. The shooter had moved.

He spied scrapes in the bark of a tree. At the base of it, two footprints in the mud pointed toward the barn. Was he going to create a diversion? A barn fire would draw at least some of them out of the house. Seth jogged toward the big building. When he reached its shadow, he stayed close to the barn and crept toward the entrance.

The door had been rolled open about twelve inches.

Someone was inside.

Seth peered through the opening. A figure was spreading a bale of straw in the aisle. Animals moved restlessly in their stalls, sensing the stranger. Seth’s horse kicked at his door and let out a shrill whinny. Another door shook from an impact.

The figure stepped back and struck a match. The small flame glowed in the dark barn.

“Stop!” Seth raised his handgun.

The figure turned to face him. Shawn Collins met his gaze, dropped the match, and broke for the exit.

Cursing, Seth dove forward. Even as he knew he was wasting time, he stomped out the flames already sparking in the dry straw. He couldn’t let the animals burn. He took heart that Bruce and Patsy and Carly were all armed at the house. If Shawn thought any of them would be easy prey, he was mistaken.

Seth kicked dirt on top of smoldering flames, then ran for the exit.

If Shawn was headed for the house, he had a decent head start.

He ran outside. Shawn was a dark shadow sprinting across the lawn. Seth raced after him. A three-shot burst of gunfire pinged. Bullets hit the wet grass near Seth’s feet. He switched to a zigzag pattern, his boots slipping in the water.

Someone else was out here.

Terry?

Up ahead, through the driving rain, he could see Shawn approaching the house. Seth turned on the speed. More shots rang out, but the visibility, wind, and rain were his friends. Bullets kicked up water and dirt around him. He kept his line erratic and gained on Shawn anyway. By the time they’d reached the halfway point across the small meadow, Seth was nearly on top of him.

He dove forward, catching Shawn in a flying tackle. Shawn twisted his body to fall on his hip. They crashed to the ground, sliding in the mud. As their forward momentum stopped, they rolled. Shawn landed on top of Seth. Straddling Seth’s chest, Shawn reached for his calf, and light gleamed on the blade of a knife.

Seth hooked Shawn’s ankle with his foot and used both hands to grab the wrist holding the knife. Seth bucked, throwing Shawn’s weight forward. Then Seth bridged, reversing their positions. But Shawn was no amateur. Before Seth settled his weight, he scrambled out from under him.

Brandishing the knife, Shawn circled.

Seth staggered to his feet and wiped the rain from his eyes.

“Trust me,” Shawn yelled over the roaring wind and lashing rain. “You don’t want to take me on in a knife fight.”

“No. I don’t.” Seth pulled his Glock and shot Shawn twice in the chest.

Seth was not fucking around with his family in danger. Shawn had had his chance to surrender in the barn, and he’d blown it.

Shawn fell to his knees, his face a blend of resignation and surprise. The knife dropped to the grass. Seth stepped forward, keeping his gun aimed on Shawn, and kicked the weapon away.

But he needn’t have worried. Shawn face-planted, and when Seth used his foot to roll him onto his back, he was dead.

One down.

Seth turned, his gaze seeking the shooter through the rain. A figure stood in front of the barn. The figure lifted the rifle to his shoulder. Seth hit the ground and waited for the shot.

An irritated bleat carried through the rain. Prince Eric burst from the barn door and rammed the shooter behind the knees. The man’s feet flew into the air, he dropped his rifle, and landed on his ass in the mud.

Seth sprinted toward him.

The man scrambled for his weapon, but the goat charged again, ducking his head and slamming his horns into the man’s chest. The man flipped onto his hands and knees and crawled toward the rifle. Grabbing it, he spun on his knees and swung the barrel toward the goat. Before he could bring the weapon around, Prince Eric dashed away into the rain.

“Police! Drop the rifle!” Seth pointed his Glock at him.

The man froze and turned to face him. Terry Reece.

“I thought you corporate types preferred to keep your hands clean,” Seth said.

Terry’s eyes flickered. His fingers on the rifle moved.

“Don’t do it.” Seth warned. “Shawn’s dead. If you move that weapon, you’re next.”

Terry lowered the rifle to the mud. On his knees, he raised his hands into the air.

“Lace your fingers behind you head and scoot backward,” Seth commanded, moving closer.

Terry obeyed.

“You can stop!” Seth moved the rifle farther away with his foot. “Now don’t move.”

Is it over?

Seth reached for his handcuffs. Before he could take them from his belt, Prince Eric charged out of the rain, rammed Terry in the back, and knocked him onto his face in the mud.

Terry lifted his head and spit. “Fucking goat.”

“He gets pissed when someone tries to set his barn on fire.” Seth holstered his weapon and cuffed Terry’s hands behind his back. He hauled the mud-covered man to his feet.

Prince Eric kicked his heels up and ran in a circle around the barnyard.

Seth searched Terry’s pockets and relieved him of a handgun and a thick military-style knife. Then he marched Terry to the back of the house.

Bruce opened the back door and yelled over the rain. “Everything all right, Seth?”

“Yes,” Seth answered, then he tugged Terry onto the deck. “Sit.”

“You’re not going to leave me out here in the storm?” Terry complained.

Seth opened the cuffs, brought Terry’s hands behind the deck post, and recuffed him at an awkward angle. Terry wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m sure as hell not bringing you into my house.”

His family was safe, but worry kicked aside Seth’s relief.

He went to the back door. “How’s Gabe?”

He didn’t need an answer. Carly was kneeling at the fallen officer’s side, her face streaked with tears, her clothes soaked with blood.