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Men clad in helmets and black body armor emblazoned with POLICE swarm through the house, guns aimed. A volley of shots rips through the air. Two of Eddie’s goons fall.
Dane. My mother. Dane. My mother.
I gulp in air, fighting the urge to throw myself into the fray for no other reason than to find the people I love.
Then, through a hazy blur of smoke and darkness, I spot Dane crossing to the staircase, one beefy arm wrapped around my mother’s shoulders, his body turned toward hers in a protective shield. Three of the smugglers are facedown on the floor, their hands cuffed behind their backs.
Relief hits me fast and hard.
But before Dane gets halfway across the room, a police officer aims a rifle at him and yells, “On the floor! Now!”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Dane lets go of my mother. “Don’t touch her.”
“On your knees, hands behind your back,” the officer shouts.
Dane kneels and puts his hands behind his back. The officer approaches, his gun still aimed. He shoves Dane onto his stomach and clamps handcuffs around his wrists.
Though I’m desperate to go to him, I obey his order not to move. Only when the chaos calms do I venture out from behind the staircase.
The police haul the handcuffed smugglers out to the vehicles. More officers start to take inventory and photographs of the drug stash. There’s no sign of Eddie.
“Hannah.” My mother hurries over and throws her arms around me. “Are you all right? You’re bleeding.”
“I’m okay, but…” I wrest myself away from her and kneel next to Dane, putting my hand on his shoulder. “He’s with me. He’s not one of them.”
She nods, like she already figured that out. I barely have time to wonder why the police didn’t target her—or me—before she lifts a hand to an officer striding toward the door. “Sheriff Peterson!”
He stops. She hurries over to him, talking and gesturing to me and Dane.
“Peterson, it’s Dane Armstrong,” Dane snaps, his jaw tense with irritation.
The sheriff stares, then barks out a laugh. “Armstrong, you sonuvabitch. I’ll be damned.”
He approaches, indicating for the other man to uncuff Dane. The officer complies, and Dane hauls himself to his feet, muttering and glowering.
Still not knowing exactly what is going on, I edge closer to him. He clamps his arm around my shoulders and draws me closer.
“Sheriff Peterson and I go back a ways,” he tells me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the sheriff asks. “Those assholes have warrants for drug trafficking.”
Dane lets out a hoarse laugh and rubs his forehead. “Long story.”
“You can tell me about it at the station.” Sheriff Peterson jerks his chin at the other officer. “Randall, get their ID for protocol, but no need to bring them in.”
We turn our IDs over to Officer Randall. He and Peterson both go back outside. The sheriff pauses again to speak to my mother. Only when she returns to us does the truth hit me.
“You knew about the raid,” I manage to say.
“I tipped Sheriff Peterson off about it.” She drags a hand down her face, suddenly looking older than her years. “That asshole Eddie didn’t think I was smart enough to figure out his plan. Sometimes he didn’t even bother telling me to leave the room when he was hashing things out with his so-called associates.”
She lifts her hands. “All I had to do was relay the details to Kevin…I mean, Sheriff Peterson. He says he doesn’t think it’s enough to link Eddie to the Venado cartel, but a bust is a bust. Coke and marijuana.”
I almost can’t believe it. For years, my mother has seemed unstable and weak, yet she helped with the mechanics of a raid that led to arresting five smugglers and confiscating several pounds of drugs.
Even Dane looks at Selina with admiration. “That’s impressive.”
