His shoulder hitting the cabin wall, Randall rammed a fresh magazine home, thumbed the slide forward, and dropped to one knee.
Bullets punctured the wall above his head.
Feeling tiny particles pricking the back of his neck, he brought his weapon to bear on the target and worked the trigger.
Holes opened up on the intruder’s shirt, as the man clutched his upper chest. He stumbled sideways and collapsed.
Randall sprang to his feet and fired twice—one round into each attacker’s head—before straining to see through the haze of smoke and dust. He swung the Glock back and forth a few degrees. Which one are you, Devlin?
***
Taking a punch to the left cheek, Devlin whirled right and staggered into a wall.
The ponytailed woman grabbed a fistful of Devlin’s hair from behind and pulled.
Devlin pushed off from the wall and threw a left elbow, catching the side of Pony’s face.
Shaking off the blow, Pony clutched Devlin’s neck and shoved.
Devlin’s backside crashed into the wall, her head thumping off the solid surface a beat later. Clenching Pony’s chin, she drove the woman’s head backward, kneed her in the groin, and sent a forearm into Pony’s jaw, gaining a modicum of separation. She planted a tactical boot in her adversary’s midsection and thrust out her leg.
Pony backpedaled before slamming into a bunk bed. She grunted, shook the cobwebs from her head, and moved forward.
Devlin advanced.
Pony drew a 12-inch survival knife, assumed a reverse grip, and swung the blade back and forth.
Pulling up short and contorting her body, the deputy marshal dodged the first two strikes, closed the distance, and clenched her attacker’s knife hand with both of hers.
The women pushed and pulled to gain control of the weapon.
Devlin kneed Pony in the stomach.
The woman doubled over.
Devlin yanked on the knife.
Pony righted herself and head butted Devlin between the eyes.
Her nose absorbing part of the blow, Devlin winced and lost her grip.
Pony shoved Devlin and attacked, delivering wide, one-armed, roundhouse sweeps with her weapon hand.
Forearms up, Devlin retraced her steps. Each pace kept her out of the blade’s arc, but the south wall behind her was fast approaching.
Pony maintained her rhythmic assault: lunge and strike, lunge and strike.
Devlin backtracked, timing the other woman’s motions. Her mind sensing the wall closing in on her, she took another rearward step and coiled her upper body.
Pony lunged and delivered a forward swipe.
Devlin leaned away.
The blade zipped by her nose.
She thrust her boot into Pony’s forward knee.
The woman groaned and cradled her injury.
Devlin clutched Pony’s knife hand, dropped to her right hip, and scissor-kicked her legs, taking out her opponent at the knees.
The camo-clad woman fell to the floor, face-first.
Straddling Pony’s torso, the deputy marshal wrapped her aggressor’s ponytail around her hand. With her heart thumping in her chest, her mind envisioning the knife that could have taken her from her daughter, her upper body rocking back and forth, Devlin repeatedly jerked on Pony’s head and smashed the woman’s face into the rough, wooden floorboards until a hand landed on her shoulder.
Spinning clockwise and rolling to her left, Devlin gripped the offending forearm, dragged the limb’s owner to the floor, rose up, and brought back a fist.
“Devlin, it’s me.” On his back, Randall stiff armed her. “Take it easy. It’s over. They’re down.”
On one knee, her left arm cocked, her chest heaving, Devlin shot a glance toward the assailants.
“They’re all down, Devlin.”
She turned back to him, a lock of hair swaying before settling in front of her face.
Stealing glimpses of her fist, he eyeballed her. “It’s all over.”
Nodding once, she lowered her arm, filled her lungs, and exhaled. A moment later, her chin fell to her chest.
Randall followed her gaze.
Devlin tucked the stray tuft behind an ear and locked eyes with him.
Still stiff-arming her breasts, he retracted his hands as if he had touched a hot stove. “Sorry. My bad.”
Devlin stood.
Randall joined her.
Both of them gaped at the carnage. Dozens of holes dotted the trashed cabin’s four walls. Beams of light poured in from all angles. Two, bullet-ridden bodies lay near a third corpse, the tip of a survival knife protruding from the dead woman’s back. She had unwittingly ‘fallen on her sword.’
Devlin found and holstered her 45 ACP before making a full pass around the table.
Randall searched the pockets of the dead, coming up empty on ID’s, but scavenging weapons and ammunition.
She stooped and retrieved a black, rectangular object. After blowing on her cell phone, she wiped the device across her jeans and pressed a side button. The mobile’s screen illuminated, and she found the place in the building that had provided a steady signal.
Randall spotted her. “What are you doing?”
“This location’s been compromised.” She tapped out a number. “I need to get word to my people.”
He drew near to her. “Have you stopped to consider that maybe your people are behind all this?”
She glared at him.
“Think about it.” He pivoted and thrust a down turned finger at a deceased invader. “These are not the same men from the accident.” He kicked a dead man’s combat boot. “Unlike these guys, none of those folks were dressed in fatigues. They were in plain clothes. My guess is,” he gestured at the bodies, “these reinforcements were called in after the initial attacked failed. And, if that’s the case, then,” remembering the call she had placed, he glanced at Devlin’s phone, “somebody told them where we were.”
She pulled the mobile away from her face a half inch. “There could’ve been more we didn’t see...at the crash site. They could’ve geared up and followed the trail you left.”
“Only,” shaking his head, he tapped his chest, “I knew what to look for. There’s no way they used those markings to find us.”
Lowering the mobile another half inch, she squinted at the window, her mind seeing the marauders sneaking through the woods. They made a two-pronged approach, flanking us. Professionals.
“You placed only one call.” Randall jabbed a digit toward the phone she held.
Hearing a ringing noise through the gadget’s speaker, Devlin eyed the cell
