by Elle James
He answered on the first ring. “Tell me.”
“The motorcycle gang is back.”
“Any sign of Nadir?”
“Can’t tell. But we’re outnumbered.”
“Sending in the cavalry. Hang tight.”
“Incoming!” Mad Dog said into her ear. “Molotov cocktail just landed on the front porch. They’re going to burn the place down. Get out the back door. Now!”
“Looks like we’re going to abandon the house,” Jolie said. “They’re playing with fire.”
“We’ll be there as quickly as possible. Take cover somewhere safe.”
“Roger. Out.” Jolie ended the call, grabbed her rifle and the fire extinguisher her father had kept hanging on the wall by the backdoor. It was old, but it was the only one they had. She prayed it still worked, or the house would burn to the ground. Armed with her rifle and the extinguisher, she ran to the front of the house.
“What are you doing?” Mad Dog yelled. “You have to get out now. Go through the back door. Now. I’ll cover while you run for the tree line.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“You have to.” He kissed her quickly. “I’ll be fine. Now go.”
She shoved the extinguisher into his hands. “Not sure this’ll work, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Thanks.” He touched his finger to his headset. “Tell me when you’re safe.”
She nodded and headed for the back door.
By the time she reached it, she heard footsteps on the porch outside. She couldn’t get out that way. Her only other choices were going through a window, which all led out onto the porch where the bad guys were, or to go through the basement window.
She’d crawled out that portal many times, playing hide and seek as a child. It led out the north side of the house into a stand of bushes that would conceal her exit until she was able to make a run for the tree line.
Jolie ran through the basement door, closed it behind her, descended the stairs and hurried to the window at the far end. Not until she reached it did she remember Mad Dog had nailed boards over it to keep the raccoon out.
She grabbed a pry bar from her father’s tools and ripped the boards off the window frame, opened the broken window and climbed up onto the boxes stacked beneath. First, she lowered her rifle onto the ground, careful not to damage the scope. Then she pulled herself through the opening and out into the night.
Once outside, the motorcycle noise was deafening. Lights shone like strobes as the bike riders circled the front yard and around the back of the house, crossing in front of the bushes behind which Jolie hid.
In between the bikers’ passes, Jolie, with her rifle in one hand, low-crawled to the edge of the bushes, parted the branches and waited for her chance to make a run for the tree line.
A biker roared past. And then nothing.
Bunching her legs beneath her, she launched out of the bushes and ran for the trees.
At that moment, another bike raced around the corner.
Jolie didn’t have time to pull out her handgun or bring her rifle to her shoulder before the rider was on her, grabbed her around the middle and flung her across his legs. He lost control of the handlebars, and the bike tipped over, skidding to a halt in the dust.
Jolie slammed her hand into the Adam’s apple of the man who’d grabbed her. While her attacker clutched at his throat struggling to breathe, Jolie rolled off him and the bike, scrambled to her feet and got her bearings. She’d lost her rifle in the tumble, and it was too dark to search for it. Knowing she only had seconds before others discovered her, she ran for the trees again.
She hadn’t gone ten yards when another biker spun around the side of the house, ditched his bike in front of her and tackled her to the ground, knocking her headset off in the process.
“I can’t catch a freakin’ break!” she muttered, balled her fist and cocked her arm, ready to punch the guy in the throat when a female voice behind her said.
“Don’t do it, or I’ll shoot your boyfriend.”
Jolie’s arm froze.
The young man who’d tackled her jumped to his feet. He’d lost his helmet in the fall off the motorcycle, his face now visible in the light from the quarter moon just rising over the ridge.
“Brandon?” she exclaimed.
He didn’t look happy, and his arm was bleeding where he’d torn his jacket in the crash.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” he said.
“But this is my property.”
His gaze shifted from her face to over her shoulder.
Jolie turned to the woman standing behind her. She wore black jeans, a black jacket and boots, and she held a pistol pointed at Jolie’s chest. “Sherry?”
The other woman’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You shouldn’t have come back,” she said. “Everything would have been fine if you had stayed the hell gone.”
Jolie shook her head. “I don’t understand. Our families have known each other forever. You were friends with my father. Why would you join a gang?”
She snorted. “I’m not part of this gang. I’m only here to protect my son.”
“Mother,” Brandon held up his hand. “Don’t do this.”
“I won’t have you going to jail. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know it was an accident,” he said, his voice hoarse, “but I should have told someone.”
“You were already on probation. They would have sent you to jail.”
“For what?” Jolie asked.
“For killing your father,” Brandon blurted out. Tears welled in the young man’s eyes. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I thought he was a deer. I shot him, because I thought he was a deer. Now you know. I can’t give you back your father, but now you know why he died.”
“It’s okay, Brandon,” his mother said. “We’ll make this all right. No one else has to know.” Her face hardened in the moonlight. “And no one will, once we take care of her.”
“No mother. You can’t do this. I can’t live like this anymore.” Brandon walked toward his mother. “If you want to shoot her, you’ll have to shoot me. I won’t be a part of this.”
Jolie braced for her getaway. As she swung around to run, an arm clamped around her middle trapping her arms beneath it.
“It’s too late,” a deep male voice said against her ear. “You’re already a part of this.” His free arm rose with a pistol, and he fired, hitting Sherry in the chest.
Sherry dropped her weapon, clutched at the wound with one hand and reached toward her son with the other. “Son,” she said, blood oozing from her mouth. Then she fell to the earth.
Jolie’s captor flung her way from him and into Brandon. “Hold her.”
Still in shock, Brandon grabbed Jolie.
She could have fought him, but she didn’t have anywhere to go. Surrounded by the gang and targeted by Nadir, she was doomed. And all she could think about was Mad Dog. Where was he? She thought she’d heard gunfire. Had they gotten to him? She couldn’t give up until she knew he was okay.
By now, other bikers surrounded them, shining their headlights at Jolie, Brandon and Nadir.
“Kill her,” Nadir said. “Take your knife and cut her throat.”
“Don’t listen to him, Brandon,” Jolie whispered. “My father’s death was an accident.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told someone else besides my mother. Now, she’s…she’s…”
“Your mother is dead because of you,” Nadir said. “She shouldn’t have come.”
“No, Brandon, she’s dead because of Nadir,’ Jolie said. “You didn’t kill her—he did.”
“This woman is a murderer. She kills people for a living. She killed my brother,” Nadir raised his voice, his tone intense and somehow hypnotic. “She’ll kill you, and then she will go after your father.”
Brandon’s hand tightened on her. “Leave my father out of this. He’s done nothing to hurt anyone.”
“I know that, Brandon
. Nadir is using you. Don’t listen to him.”
“Shut up, woman! Shut up!” Nadir, his face red with anger, fired into the air. “Kill her, now! Or I’ll kill you.”
The bikers gathered around chanted, “Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!”
Brandon pulled a knife from the scabbard on his belt and pressed the cold metal blade to her throat.
Jolie tensed, knowing that if she broke away now, Nadir or one of the others would put a bullet into her. But she couldn’t go down without a fight. She wouldn’t.
14
Mad Dog had positioned the fire extinguisher at the gap in the window he was supposed to be using to fire his rifle through. But he couldn’t see anything past the flames rising from the fuel that had exploded on impact from the Molotov cocktail. He poked the hose through the window, held his breath and prayed the eight-year-old extinguisher would work after all these years.
He pulled the handle and white powder blasted toward the fuel, extinguishing the flames. By then the bikers were circling the house, blasting through the yard, stirring up dust.
He hadn’t heard from Jolie since she’d promised to let him know when she’d made it to safety, and he was worried.
Then the bikers disappeared around the side of the house, deserting the front yard.
Something was happening, and it couldn’t be good. Mad Dog suspected Jolie was in trouble. He called to Six and ran toward the kitchen, the last place he knew she’d been.
The satellite phone lay on the table. He hit the numbers for Hank and waited precious seconds for him to answer on the first ring.
“Jolie?” Hank answered.
“No, it’s Mad Dog. We need backup.”
“Swede and Boomer should be there by now. I’m with Bear and Taz, we’re inbound. ETA five mikes.”
“That might be too late. I think they have Jolie. I’m headed out to find out.”
“Wait for backup.”
“I can’t. It might be too late. If we don’t make it, be sure to get Nadir. The man can’t be allowed to continue.” He didn’t wait for Hank’s response. Instead, he tossed the phone on the table and slipped through the back door with Six.
Outside he heard chanting from the side of the house he couldn’t see. He left the porch and, hugging the bushes, hurried toward the sound. As the words became clear, his heart dropped to the pit of his belly.
“Kill her! Kill her!”
The situation was impossible. Brandon Lewis had Jolie with a knife to her throat. One stupid move on Mad Dog’s part, and the boy could jerk his hand and slit her throat. If that wasn’t bad enough, the man he suspected was Dwayne Duncan, aka Abdul Nadir, stood in front of the pair, holding a pistol pointed at Jolie’s chest. Add the audience of jacked-up teens on motorcycles, and it was a powder keg with a lit fuse.
“Mad Dog, come in,” a voice said into Mad Dog’s ear.
“Mad Dog here,” he whispered.
“Kujo here with Swede. You seeing what we’re seeing?”
Mad Dog’s released the breath he’d been holding. Some of the cavalry had arrived. Still, how was he going to get Brandon to drop his knife and Nadir his gun?
“I’m seeing it from the northeast corner of the house.”
“Tree line on the other side of the motorcycle brigade from you,” Kujo said. “Six with you?”
“He is.”
“Be ready to send him in to stir things up. We can take the motorcyclists.”
“The Lewis kid has a knife to Jolie’s throat.”
“She’s CIA,” Kujo reminded him. “She’ll know what to do when Six makes his entrance. Kujo knows to go for the man with the gun.”
“How do you know?”
Kujo chuckled. “I trained him.” He gave Mad Dog the command. “Use it. Nadir won’t know he’s coming until he hits him.”
“What if he gets a shot off before Six gets to him?”
“Swede here. Do you have another plan?” Swede jumped into the radio conversation. “Nadir is there to kill Agent Richards, one way or another. Don’t waste another second. Her life depends on it.”
“Roger.” Mad Dog gave Six the command and watched as the German Shepherd stole through the night like a shadowy wolf stalking his prey. As he neared Nadir, he moved faster until he shot like a rocket and leaped from the side at Nadir’s hand holding the gun.
A shot was fired.
Mad Dog didn’t think about where the bullet went, he ran for Jolie.
She grabbed the hand holding the knife, bent Brandon’s thumb back and twisted his arm under and behind his back.
Nadir kicked Six off his arm and aimed his pistol at Jolie.
Mad Dog dove in front of her, while aiming his nine-millimeter at Nadir. He pulled the trigger at the same time as Nadir’s gun went off.
A sharp pain ripped through his side as he hit the ground, rolled to his feet and came up in a kneeling position, ready to fire again.
The pistol fell from Nadir’s fingers. He clutched a hand to his chest and sank to the ground where he lay still.
The guys on the bikes revved their engines, but too late.
Swede and Kujo came at them from one end of the lineup, firing their handguns in the air and yelling like banshees.
The bikers spun out, racing for the road leading off the ranch.
“You need help?” Mad Dog yelled to Jolie.
“I’ve got this,” Jolie answered, holding Brandon’s arm high up the middle of his back. The teen danced on his toes, his face creased in pain.
Mad Dog gave Six the command to stay with Jolie, and he followed Swede and Kujo, chasing after the bikers as they made their getaway.
As the riders reached the road, one by one, they were jerked off their bikes, landing hard on their backsides as if a giant hand knocked them off.
Ahead of him, Mad Dog saw Hank step out of the trees along with three other men. Swede, Kujo and Mad Dog converged on the bikers, tackled them and held them down.
Sirens blared and flashing lights blinked through the trees as county sheriff vehicles arrived, followed by a fire truck and an ambulance.
Mad Dog had pinned his biker face-down on the ground when Deputy Wells appeared at his side. “Don’t worry about me,” he bit out. “Jolie has one around the side of the house.”
The deputy took off running. A few moments later, another deputy arrived to relieve Mad Dog of his gang member.
As soon as he was free, Mad Dog hurried toward the house. He hadn’t gone far when Deputy Wells rounded the corner, leading Brandon Lewis in handcuffs. Jolie and Six walked alongside him.
Mad Dog ran toward Jolie.
When she saw him, she rushed forward and met him halfway, flinging her arms around his neck.
He swung her off her feed and around. “Thank God. Thank God,” he said over and over. “I didn’t know what had happened to you.” He set her on her feet and scanned her body from head to toe. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” He paid particular attention to her throat where Brandon had held his knife to her perfect skin. “I died a thousand deaths watching him with that knife.”
“He wasn’t going to do it. Brandon wasn’t going to kill me.” Jolie shook her head. “His mother, Sherry, was going to, but Nadir killed her.”
“That was Brandon’s mother on the ground?” Mad Dog asked.
Jolie pinched the bridge of her nose. “What a mess. Remind me to tell you about it when we can catch our breath. The point is, you came at exactly the right moment. If you hadn’t sent Six in when you did, Nadir would have shot me.”
“I have Kujo to thank for that. He trained him to go after the guy with the gun.” Mad Dog pulled her to him again and held her long and hard. “I almost lost you. I just found you, and I almost lost you.”
She laughed, her voice catching on a sob. “All I could think about was what was happening to you. I didn’t know if the house was burning down with you inside.” Jolie pulled away just enough to look at her family home. “You put the fire out?”
Mad Dog nodded. “The extinguisher worked enough to douse the flame. Your house survived.” And thankfully so had Jolie. His heart was full to the point it was painful. Now that it was all over, he felt weak with relief.
* * *
Jolie hugged him around the middle, tears wetting his shirt. She didn’t know why, but Mad Dog made her feel things no other man made her feel.
“Hey, why are you crying? Everything turned out all right.” He tipped up her chin and stared down into her face.
She stared up at him, his handsome face lit by the headlights from the emergency vehicles parked in the yard.
“I was afraid I’d lose you,” she admitted. “I didn’t give a damn about the house. I was afraid I’d lose you.”
Hank, Swede, Kujo, Bear and two other men surrounded Mad Dog, Jolie and Six.
Hank introduced the men they hadn’t met as Viper and Boomer.
Swede hugged Jolie all the while shaking his head. “When I saw that kid with a knife to your neck, I thought for sure you were a goner. Glad you’re still with the living. My fiancée, Allie, wouldn’t forgive me if she didn’t get to meet you.”
“Thanks for coming to our rescue,” she said. “I’d love to meet your fiancée.” And she meant it. Already, she felt like she was one of Hank’s team and belonged with this group of men and their women.
Swede glanced down at her shirt, his eyes narrowing. “Damn, girl, you’re bleeding.”
Jolie looked down at her side and her arm, surprised by the amount of blood. She patted her side but felt no pain. “I wasn’t hit.”
Her gaze shot to Mad Dog. His dark jacket glistened like it was wet. She reached out and touched it, her fingers coming away warm and wet. “You were hit!”
Mad Dog opened his jacket, the movement making him wince. “Damn. I think you’re right. I guess I didn’t notice in all the confusion.”
“How could you not notice?” Jolie shook her head and yelled, “Medic!”
An EMT showed up. Hank and Swede helped Mad Dog onto a stretcher. The EMTs packed the wound to stem the flow of blood and hooked him up to an IV. Then they wheeled him away to the waiting ambulance.
