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The front door opened, light spilling outside for an instant, and Royce spotted the shadow of another man before it shut again.
“I thought Caleb was coming in the back way?”
“He is. I think that is what’s called a distraction.”
“Do we want to know what he’s using?”
“Nope. Let’s do this.”
Royce hated not knowing where all the players were. But from the fact that there were at least two in the guarded residence—and up to possibly five—he knew they needed to check for Briar and Raine there first.
Sticking as close as they could to the darker shadows, he and Bishop inched closer to the structure. They didn’t meet up with resistance until they started to cross the open ground between the edge of the woods and the house.
“Hey!” someone shouted.
Another man had exited the barn and spotted them. Royce turned but Topher was already there, a ghost out of the darkness striking the gang member from behind with the butt of his rifle. The man fell to the ground and didn’t get back up.
Topher gave them a chin nod and Royce and Bishop started moving toward the house again. Topher split off to come in the back and presumably meet up with Caleb. At least, that had been the cobbled-together plan.
Now there were only five of them—if the motorcycle count was right. Royce trusted that Caleb would have already taken care of the two investigating his handy work.
Royce signaled to Topher that he and Bishop were going in. Topher nodded and headed toward the back of the house.
Caleb and Topher would breach the back door.
Royce stood off to one side while Bishop kicked the front door in, at the ready as it swung in and hit the wall with a crash. Spinning, they rushed the front room. Another crash told him that Caleb and Topher had come in the back.
There was a groan and Royce realized that what he’d thought was just a mound of blankets actually had a person underneath them. Ripping them back, Royce discovered an injured man. But not so injured he didn’t have a Glock by his side that he was lifting upward. Royce stilled.
“What?” asked Bishop. “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”
Bishop knocked the weapon out of the man’s hand, and he grunted in pain. Royce realized that someone had packed bandages over a seeping shoulder wound. This must be the guy Jakes had injured.
“Make sure we don’t lose that weapon,” Royce ordered.
Caleb and Topher burst into the room.
“All clear up here,” Topher declared.
A cry from below followed by a scream had them all scrambling to find the entrance to the basement. Topher and Caleb took the lead, clattering down the wooden stairs, followed by Royce and then Bishop. There was no time to assess the situation.
“You bitch!”
Across from the bottom of the stairs was a heavy wooden door. It stood open and through the opening Royce saw Briar on the ground struggling—no, in hand-to-hand combat with a huge hairy man. Briar had wrapped herself around him in a sort of wrestling move, trying to immobilize him, but he was big enough that she was clearly in difficulty. There was no way for them to get a clear shot.
Briar’s face was scrunched in concentration, and Royce didn’t think she or her opponent knew they had arrived. Where was Raine?
“Where’s Raine?” Topher whispered, a grim tone to his voice. “If something’s happened to her…”
Just then, an object came hurtling through the air from the side of the room they couldn’t see, and whatever it was hit the big man in the back hard enough to make him grunt. A second projectile hit him square in the back again, causing him to release his hold enough that Briar was able to use the power in her thighs to get his lower legs in a nasty leg lock. Next they heard the sickening sound of his knee joint being ripped apart. And screaming.
A third projectile hit him in the forehead, ending the screaming.
Briar sat up, disentangling herself from the unconscious man.
“Thanks, Raine,” she panted.
“Years of softball practice. I even played for Berkeley. Who knew it would come in handy?”
