“Will be safer in the FROG if something bad happens and they can retreat to the attic,” Cami replied. “Everyone get your weapons!”
Before she could tell Mia where to go, someone pounded on the front door. “Cami Lavelle! Open up! We need to talk to you!” They knocked again.
“Okay, people, here we go. Everyone ready?” Cami asked. They all nodded and brandished firearms. “Good. Mia, I know you don’t like guns, so you stay here in the kitchen. Keep an eye on the boys and be ready with the first aid kit.”
Mia nodded, on the verge of tears. “My boys…”
“Trust me, if something goes down, you don’t want them trapped in here with us.” Cami looked around. All the plywood had been installed on the first-floor windows. “Amber, get upstairs in the FROG and tell me what you see.”
Amber turned and sprinted from the room, the scoped rifle in her hands.
“Gary, you stay back here—guard the rear. Mitch, bring that shotgun and follow me. You’re my backup.” She took a breath and ignored the noise from the front door. “Okay.”
“Lavelle! I’m losing patience here!” It sounded like someone hit the door with a hammer.
“Who does this fool think he is?” Cami growled on her way to the front door. She didn’t bother to keep the pistol behind her back this time. Cami glanced through the peephole and saw a short bald man with wide shoulders, backed by two large men she’d never seen before. None of them looked friendly or willing to negotiate in any way. Only one person she recognized—the guy from the HOA that thought he had authority to come in her house the other day. He was young and probably had a cushy job as a lawyer or a doctor or something.
“What do you want?” she yelled through the door.
“I wanna talk to you face to face, not through a door, that’s what I want,” said the short bald one. When he turned to say something to the guy from the HOA, Cami got a look at a wicked tattoo on his bull-like neck. The man may be small, but he was built like a tank. She tightened her grip on the Glock.
“What if I don’t want to talk to you?”
That caused a brief, but animated conversation between Shorty and the HOA goon. Eventually, Shorty called it off and turned back to the door. One of the big guys behind him nodded, then left. He waved at something in the distance, and turned left, out of the peep hole’s limited view.
“Crap,” she said under her breath. “Mitch, warn Amber: they’re splitting up. I think they’re trying to flank us!”
“On it!” Mitch turned and started up the stairs.
“Mom—there’s three guys in the side yard—they have guns! They’re going around back!” Amber hollered before Mitch made it to the second floor.
“We know,” Cami called. “See if you can find a shooting position—but stay hidden!” Cami hissed.
Mitch doubled back down the stairs and bolted into the kitchen to warn the others. He returned a moment later as Shorty slammed his hand against the door again and again.
“I’m not going to stay out here forever,” he warned. “You need to open up now and save us both a lot of trouble.”
Cami threw back the deadbolt and ripped the door open. Shorty blinked and stepped back, his hand raised to hit the door again. His eyes went to the pistol in Cami’s hand, still pointed at the ground, then finally rested on her face. He swallowed.
“Get off my property.”
He cracked a smile. “Who says it’s yours? Some piece of paper? From a bank that don’t exist no more?” He grinned. “What if I told you I had a member of the HOA executive board right here—“
“The what?” Cami demanded.
“It’s a thing now,” Shorty went on with a half-shrug.
“Not to me it isn’t,” Cami insisted.
“Whatever. I’m done with this.” Shorty turned to the HOA goon. “Give me the word.”
“By order of the executive board of the Bee’s Landing Homeowner’s Association, I authorize you to not only search the premises but remove anyone not willing to allow your entry.” He smiled at Cami, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. It was clear to her he planned to enjoy whatever happened next.
Shorty looked back at Cami. “See? You got no right to keep us out, now.” He took a step forward.
“I got something that starts with ‘We the People,’” Cami replied and raised her pistol. She aimed straight at Shorty’s forehead, about level with her own.
He didn’t miss a beat and kept the smile. “Just a piece of paper from some old dead guys.”
Cami smiled back and noticed Shorty’s grin wavered. “I like the idea that the last thing you’ll ever think about is the Constitution.”
Shorty frowned. “Put the gun down, lady, before I lose my temper.”
“Get off my property, Shorty, before you lose your face.” When he didn’t move, she called over her shoulder, “Mitch?”
The stainless-steel barrel of Reese’s marine shotgun appeared over her shoulder and took aim at the group on the porch. Cami smiled to see their reactions. The HOA guy looked ready to wet his pants.
Shorty smiled again. “I’m sorry you want to do this the hard way…” He raised one hand, and the group retreated—slowly.
He looked her up and down, and it was painfully obvious to Cami what transpired in his mind. She shivered in revulsion and slammed the front door as soon as they’d backed off the porch. Where are you Reese?
Mitch exhaled a mighty sigh. “That was intense, Cami-san.”
A gunshot cracked from the backyard, Amber screamed upstairs, and all hell broke loose. Mitch glanced at Cami, then flew up the stairs two at a time. Gary opened fire from the kitchen, the sharp bark of Reese’s favorite
