But we can also look for the things that are good. The evidence of God at work. Because He is always at work, no matter how dark it seems.
The good. Good things like a partner who’d given him the benefit of the doubt when the rest of the precinct wanted to believe he was the son of a corrupt captain. Good things like a family that loved him. Good things like Dani moving back to Renegade, just in time for their cases to intersect. For once, he wasn’t alone in this fight, trying to balance the scales in justice’s favor.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so crazy to think God would show up here too.
Michael lifted his chin as Martha walked toward him.
“Well? What will it be?”
“I think you know. I’m not going to join your syndicate. In fact, I will do everything I can to fight and bring you down.”
Martha burst out laughing. “So righteous. And yet so…powerless.”
Michael drilled her with a hard stare. He wasn’t alone. Not even close. “Even if I go down, there are others who will fight you.”
“You have no idea how far this organization goes. This snake has more than one head.” She tilted her chin. “The fight is over.”
At that moment, the sound of a chopper cut through the night. Spotlights shone down from the mound behind the shed, red lasers bisecting the dark and landing squarely on Martha’s and Booker’s chests. A speaker from the helicopter called out.
“This is the FBI. Drop your weapons. You’re surrounded.”
No one moved.
“Now!”
The guard closest to Martha aimed his gun and fired into the sky toward the helicopter.
A blast of light, one shot from the chopper, and the guard dropped to the dirt, releasing a little cloud of dust up into the air.
“This is the Renegade PD.” Another voice from a speaker called out from the east. “That was your warning. Now drop?—”
Chaos broke out. Booker grabbed Eddie and ran.
“Go!” a voice yelled in Michael’s direction. “Go get the boy! I’ve got Martha.”
Dani?
She emerged from the darkness, sprinting past him in her now-torn red dress. “Go, Michael!”
Michael surged forward, ducking around the SWAT forces and FBI agents swarming the area. He had to get to Eddie.
Booker bolted past the garbage truck and pivoted around the rusty backhoe, trying to make a break for the road.
But Michael cut him off. Aiming for Booker’s legs, he lunged. Eddie cried out as he fell out of Booker’s arms and landed on the ground, but Michael didn’t dare break his focus. He loosened the grip on Booker’s legs and reached higher, knocking the gun out of his hands.
Booker landed a jab, smack on Michael’s jaw. Another hit to his ribs, but Michael wouldn’t let go. The two men wrestled in the gravel. Fists to his temple. Michael answered with an uppercut to the chin, another to the nose.
Wilson screamed and unleashed a string of profanity and enough strength to flip Michael. The cold ground dug into his back, Booker now towering above him. His heavy hands constricted around Michael’s neck. Eddie lay a few feet away, looking on in horror.
Blood ran from Booker’s nose, dripped onto Michael. “You should’ve taken the deal. Now I’ll send you to meet your mother. Ask her if she remembers me, since I was the last person she saw before she died.”
NO! This would not be the end.
Michael fisted dirt and gravel, threw it in Booker’s eyes. Booker yelled but didn’t release his grip. Darkness crept in from the sides of Michael’s field of vision. His lungs screamed for breath.
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.
