The attacker’s head flopped over, and his knees buckled before his body folded in half, backwards.
Advancing toward the living room, Hardy dragged a palm down his face, glanced at the scarlet smear, and dried the hand on his pants.
*******
Feeling the Mossberg’s recoil in her shoulder, Cruz racked the shotgun while her torso listed forward again. As the barrel settled, she lined up the next shot.
To the backdrop of repeated thumping, coming from a sound-suppressed, automatic rifle one level down, the wooden handrail on her right exploded, sending splinters into the air.
She spun away from the barrage and landed face down on the carpeting.
Holes appeared on the wallboard above her head.
Cruz crawled down the hall and rolled onto her back. Her eyes grew big at the sight of the still-moving red light at the top of the stairs. I know I hit him. She watched the shadowy form stagger toward her, his sighting device aimed at her chest.
He groaned while the dot skipped around on her torso.
Flat on her back, staring down the length of her body at the approaching, soon-to-be killer, Cruz shot a glance at the Mossberg—the long gun’s muzzle was pointed away from the threat. Lord Jesus, like an old-time gunslinger, have mercy on me, slapping at the Glock 19M on her hip, she drew and thrust out the weapon, a sinner. Her finger slapped the trigger.
Multiple fireballs emerged from the Glock’s barrel. Flashes of light silhouetted a man in black tactical clothing, his body jigging. After the fourth bullet hit him, he clutched his throat and collapsed. His head and helmet bounced off Cruz’s right boot.
She aimed her pistol at the headgear. The rounded metal never budged.
Forty-caliber reports came from the first floor.
Cruz clambered backwards and took cover behind the wall.
*******
Aw fu...the unexpected roar from Cruz’s shotgun had thrown off Ashford’s aim, allowing his target to empty a magazine at Cruz’s position. In a low crouch, a two-hand hold on his Glock, he hurried into the living room, firing rapid, controlled volleys. The projectiles from the former FBI agent’s second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth shot connected with his mark.
Convulsing, the third assailant twisted toward his opponent.
Ashford leveled the Glock at the man’s NVGs. He curled his right forefinger, and the handgun’s trigger traveled backward.
The 180-grain, hollow-point bullet shattered the optics, expanding as the mushrooming metal disintegrated the man’s eyeball and left a bigger mess at the back of the skull. The would-be murderer dropped instantly.
Ashford met Hardy at the base of the stairs.
Hardy lifted a crimson-stained finger. “I got one.”
Ashford gestured toward the crumpled mass on the carpeting. “This one makes two.”
Both men shifted their gaze to the top of the staircase, toward a prone corpse’s tactical boots. “Cruz,” they shouted in unison.
“I’m okay. Target is neutralized. What’s your status?”
Ashford focused his attention on the body near his feet. “Copy that...”
Hardy ran up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
“...all clear...three hostiles down.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 29
So Dang Good
3:47 a.m.
potomac, maryland
Randall navigated Marshal Thorn’s vehicle through an intersection, spun the steering wheel back to straight, and pushed his foot down on the accelerator. The sedan’s engine revving, the car gained speed in the deserted residential neighborhood.
Seated beside him, Devlin raised a cell phone to her ear. “Tell me he’s in custody, Marissa.”
“I wish I could, Jessica.”
Devlin shut her eyes.
“I just got word from the point man of the arresting team. Crane wasn’t at his house when they broke down the door. I’m thinking he ran when his people didn’t check in on time.”
“What took them so long to breach?” Devlin spied her watch. “It’s been more than ninety minutes since I told you about the safe house attack.”
“We had trouble convincing the judge to issue an arrest warrant for a deputy director. He wasn’t sure of the evidence and spent forty-five minutes deliberating before giving us the green light.”
“Son-of-a,” Devlin balled her hand and pounded on the console that separated her from the driver, the heavy thud drowning out her last word.
Glimpsing her, Randall made a right turn. “What’s going on?”
She faced him. “We were too late. Crane’s on the run.”
Gripping the wheel tighter, he shook his head.
Thorn: “He won’t be on the run for long, Jessica. All of law enforcement is looking for him. We’ll find him.”
Devlin wagged her finger at the glove box. “He’s crafty, Marissa. And he has connections. If he gets into the air...or out of the country...”
“He won’t. I promise you. We’ll hunt him down like the animal that he is.”
Chewing on her lower lip, Devlin looked out her window. She had called Ashford an hour ago. He had told her about the shootout at Cruz’s house. Cassie was in that house. She could have been killed. An image of the man responsible for the assault, Crane, popped into her brain. That traitor...that monster could have killed my—
“You need to...” Thorn’s voice disappeared for a second, “...your family right now.”
Devlin eyed the mobile’s screen and put the device back to her face.
“Your daughter...” the phone cut out, “...see her mother.”
“I’m getting another call. Let me know the second you hear something.” She tapped the phone. “How’s my baby girl doing, Curt?”
“I just got Cassie to close her eyes. She’s sleeping peacefully. How far away are you?”
Devlin glanced at the surrounding houses. “We’re already in Cruz’s neighborhood. We should be—wait...I see the police cars. We’re here.”
“I’m on my way downstairs.”
Randall stopped the car alongside a curb.
Devlin scrambled out before he could kill the engine. She bolted by the emergency vehicles and ducked under yellow crime scene tape.
Thrusting out palms, police officers confronted her. “Ma’am, this is an active—”
“U.S.,” never breaking her stride, she held up her badge, “Deputy Marshal.”
They stepped aside.
She leaped onto the porch and barged through the front door.
Spread throughout the home’s interior, more officers, along with forensic personnel and crime scene investigators, turned away from their duties and stared at the newcomer.
“Jess.” Ashford rushed down the
