And those men had just given up any hope of surprise. Which meant they knew someone was aware of them. Which meant they didn’t care but were prepared to take extreme action.
The question was, were they expecting the kind of greeting they were about to get?
CAT JOINED DUKE at the kitchen window. “Have they divided?” she asked quietly.
“They’re starting to. You take the front window, unless you want me to.”
“I’m thinking about firing right now. A warning shot. No reason they have to get any closer.”
He looked at her quickly before looking back out. Were they trying to set a trap or put an end to this?
He reconsidered. Yeah, a trap would be nice, as it would separate them, but a whole lot more dangerous.
“Okay,” he said. “When you catch sight of one near the front, fire away, identify yourself and tell them to stop. Ben and I will deal with what happens then.”
“Fair enough.”
Outside, apparently emboldened when their shot didn’t receive return fire, the men rose up, crouching, but much more visible. Two headed toward the front, which meant they intended to enter. Why was that one staying on the side?
But his question was quickly answered. The last of them started to move toward the front. He watched, then joined Cat and Ben in the foyer.
“They’re here,” Cat announced. “I’m going ahead.”
Ben reached out swiftly. “Be careful.”
“I’m not going out there,” she said reassuringly. She then opened the door a crack and put her mouth to the opening.
“Conard County Sheriff. Freeze right there!”
But they didn’t even hesitate. Cripes, she thought, raising the shotgun and edging it through the door. She fired a warning blast.
“I said halt!” She fired again.
She felt one of the guys push some more shells into her hand and she quickly loaded them, for the first time wishing she’d brought magazines. Who would have guessed? She’d honestly believed that a few warning shots would stop them. If not, a couple more well-placed shots should have done it.
But nothing was stopping these men.
Then the rain of fire began.
The three of them swore and fell to the floor. Automatics, Cat thought. No three-round bursts to preserve ammo, so they must have plenty.
The bullets came through the entire front of the house, as if they wanted to saw it down, and ricocheted off metal or punctured the walls and staircase. Glass shattered.
“Let me,” Duke said, edging her to one side.
“Careful,” she couldn’t help saying, although he didn’t need the reminder. He was far more experienced at this than she’d ever be.
Ben cried out as more bullets pierced the house.
“Ben?” she called.
“A graze. Damn it. I can’t lift my arm...”
Just then, Duke rose on his knees, pushed the door open wider and fired into the night. A single crack.
Almost simultaneously a man’s cry could be heard.
“One down,” Duke said. “Hang on.”
Cat rose up. Without asking, she hurried over to the broken front window and used the butt of her shotgun to get more glass out of the way. Then she aimed for one of the attackers.
Enough, she thought. Enough. This one’s for Larry. Her heart pounded in her ears, and rage filled her.
Another swath of bullets cut through, and she had to duck, but then she rose up and fired another round. A riot gun wasn’t particular. Nor was she, at this point.
All the while fear tapped along her spine. Fear that Ben had been downplaying his injury. Fear that Duke would get shot.
Her own safety was the last thing that worried her. Strange.
Must have been the fury.
TEN MINUTES AFTER the firefight began, it ended in total silence. Eerie silence.
Cat felt almost dazed as she tried to look around.
“I need to go out there and check,” Duke said. “You help Ben.”
“No,” said Ben. “I’ll be fine. I managed to put on a tourniquet.”
Cat looked at Duke. “You’re not going out there alone. They’re still armed, and if any of them can shoot...”
“It’s common tactical sense, Duke,” Ben argued. “Don’t go alone.”
Duke was having none of it. “Cat, you stay here with Ben. He can’t defend himself. I’ll deal with those three. Quite effectively.”
Then he slipped out the door.
Ben spoke as if in answer to Cat’s instant anxiety. “If anyone can do it, he can.”
CAT WISHED SHE could see more. The night-vision goggles were displaying all kinds of static as the snowfall grew heavier.
She thought she saw Duke moving slowly toward the three men. Then a volley of shots rang out. Her heart stopped.
One man must be capable of shooting. At least one.
While the subsequent silence seemed to last forever, it didn’t. She knew it didn’t.
Ben spoke, his voice weaker. “Cat? What’s going on?”
“Damned if I know.”
The anxiety was going to kill her. One dark figure began to move toward the house. She lifted her shotgun, ready to fire, then recognized Duke’s familiar stride.
She could have collapsed with relief. With her radio, now certain no one else would get hurt, she called for help and relief.
Not too long after, the two medevac choppers arrived. The first one took Ben. The second took two of the wounded men. The other was dead.
The medics had flex ties and used them on the two shooters. They’d survive, but no one was taking a chance that they could cause more trouble.
Cat, knowing Ben would receive the best care, joined Duke, who was looking at the man who lay dead on the ground, the snow starting to collect on his clothing. The dead man was on his back, his eyes open and fixed on night he could no longer see.
“He shot at you?” she asked. “You shot him?”
“Yeah.” Duke’s voice was heavy. Then he said, “I know him.”
A shiver of shock ran through Cat. “You do?”
“Yeah. Years back, we were both in the ’Stan. I was on a solo mission when I heard a firefight. I had my own mission, and maybe I should have ignored it, but...”
