Page 172 of Running to You

“Cover us,” Jon said. “You see anyone coming up the hill, sound a warning. If anyone aims to kill—”

“I’ll take him out.” Bryan sounded completely confident, as if the idea of killing a man barely fazed him.

“Daniel, you called the police?”

“They’re on their way.”

“Good. Everybody copy?” After a round of quick responses, Jon said, “God, be with us, get us to the hostages, and bring us out safe.” After barely a pause… “Go.”

Handgun out, night-vision goggles on, Sam ran down the hill, dodging tree trunks and hopping over brush. Just inside the tree line, he paused behind a thick trunk, breathing heavily, praying constantly, and watched as men converged on the windows near the front. They moved so stealthily that, without his goggles, Sam wasn’t sure he’d have seen them.

In his ear, he heard a whisper. “Three, two, one. Go.”

A loud thud.

Gunshots followed. And men’s shouts.

Sam bent low and bolted across the clearing.

A bang, this one close. He ducked lower and told himself that breeze he’d felt by his ear hadn’t been a bullet.

Then came a rifle shot. Bryan swore. “Missed. He’s in the window on your side of the captives.”

Other voices sounded in Sam’s ear, but he blocked them out as he reached the building and started crouch-running toward his son. Up ahead, a flicker caught his eye, the glint of light off metal.

“If he shows himself,” Bryan said, “I’ll shoot.”

Sam approached slowly, silently.

The glass was raised, only fluttering wool between Sam and the gunman inside the room.

Sam took a breath. Here we go, God. Help me take him out. And not get shot.

He stopped a foot away. Took out his taser and aimed toward where the gunman’s hand should be.

But the gun shifted to aim at him.

Sam dove an instant before the gun fired. Beneath the window frame, he gripped the gunman’s wrist. He yanked, bent forward, and levered the guy out the window and over his back. Dumped him on the ground.

The guy wrenched his wrist away and took aim.

Sam barely moved before a gunshot sounded an inch from his ear. Ignoring the ringing that blocked out everything else, he whacked the guy’s forearm and punched him in the face. The man's head snapped to the side, and Sam reared back to punch him again.

But a knee jabbed him in the ribs. Sam moved to protect himself, got flipped off his feet and onto his back.

A fist came down hard toward his head. Sam knocked it out of the way just in time, kidney punched the gunman once, twice.

The guy leaned back, but not to protect himself.

He swung the weapon toward Sam’s head.

And then, a gunshot.

Sam watched the shooter crumple. He collapsed to the side.

What the…?

“Careful.” Bryan’s voice shook, but it was strong. “Not sure where that hit.”