Chapter 7 - The Ambush in the Pines
The front door splintered open under a heavy steel-toed boot.
The first intruder barged in, weapon raised, scanning the dark living room. Before his eyes could adjust to the shadows, I stepped out from behind the foyer doorframe, driving the heel of my boot straight into the side of his knee.
A sharp crack echoed through the room. The man screamed, collapsing forward, but I caught him by his tactical vest, drove my elbow down into the back of his neck, and disarmed his weapon in one fluid, mechanical motion. The heavy pistol clattered onto the hardwood floor.
"Contact inside!" the second man yelled from the porch, raising a shotgun.
*Crack! Crack!*
Two precision rounds from Miller’s carbine shattered the porch window, striking the second attacker squarely in the shoulder and thigh. The man crashed backward through the porch railing, tumbling into the frozen dirt below with a ragged howl.
The third man, who had been attempting to sever the cabin’s generator wires, realized instantly that they had walked into an ambush set by combat veterans, not terrified civilians. He dropped his bolt cutters and sprinted back toward the running SUV.
"Brooke, watch the front!" I shouted, charging out the doorway into the freezing rain.
The driver panicked, slamming the SUV into reverse. Mud sprayed from the spinning tires as the vehicle swung violently around the gravel turnaround. The third man lunged for the passenger door handle, but the vehicle was already accelerating away, leaving him behind in the dark.
I sprinted across the clearing, closing the distance in seconds. When he turned and fumbled for a weapon in his waistband, I tackled him shoulder-first, driving his back into the trunk of a massive pine tree. The air blasted out of his lungs in a violent wheeze.
I pressed the barrel of my sidearm firmly under his chin, pinning him to the bark.
"Talk," I growled, rain dripping from the brim of my cap into his terrified eyes. "Who gave the order?"
"I don't know nothin'!" the man gasped, choking on his own saliva. "We was just hired to clear the house! To take the hard drives and the girl!"
"Hannah?" I pressed the steel deeper into his jawline. "Who hired you? Thomas Mercer is in a federal holding cell. Who signed the check?"
"Julian!" the man screamed, tears mixing with the rain on his cheeks. "Julian Mercer! He's at the private airstrip in Blackwood! His plane leaves for Belize in two hours! He told us to burn the cabin and everyone in it so the crash investigation dies with him!"
Miller walked up behind me, wiping rain from his face, holding a roll of heavy zip-ties. "Flight plan out of Blackwood Regional. That’s outside county jurisdiction, Sergeant."
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"Not outside the jurisdiction of a citizen's arrest backed by an active federal warrant," I replied, shoving the hired gun into Miller's custody. "Call Officer Carter. Tell him if he wants to earn his badge back, he meets us at the tarmac."
***