Rescuing Isabelle, page 10
“Overwatch to Bravo-One.” Command and Control breaks into our conversation, speaking through our personal gear, rather than Ariel’s headsets.
“Bravo-One. Copy.” Brady replies for the team.
“We’ve got activity on the ranch.”
My gut does a thousand-foot drop to the ground.
Those words are never good. Brady’s gaze cuts to mine, where he tells me without using words to keep my shit locked up nice and tight.
It’s not unusual, when working with a group of guys over the years, to develop a nonverbal language all our own. I’m not talking a word here and there.
There’s a big difference between a look that says Stop being an Ass to one that conveys everything Brady just did when he looked at me.
Whatever Overlord has to tell us, it isn’t good. I claw at the leather seat, digging my nails in, and steel myself for the worst.
“Go on.” Brady’s voice is calm. Cool. Level.
It lacks the fire burning in my gut. The all out rage that follows bad news.
I know it’s coming, and I brace.
“Activity on the ranch. Two vehicles. A dozen men. Subject’s vehicle is offroad. Others in pursuit.”
Brady holds my gaze, telling me to settle the fuck down when every cell in my body demands I jump out of the helicopter and rescue my girl. He knows my feelings for Izzy are more than they seem.
Hell, everyone knows.
Everyone but Izzy.
“Bravo One, active gunfire. I repeat. Active gunfire.” CJ reports what Mitzy’s high-flying drone, Smaug, sees.
It’s a play-by-play, live-action report on what’s happening on the ground.
“Ariel, we’ve got action.” Brady switches to the internal comms in the helicopter.
“Copy. Instructions?” Her voice is smooth as silk, but that’s what I’ve heard about the battle-hardened pilot. She’s cool under pressure.
Wish I could say the same.
“Overlord, Relay coordinates to Ariel. We’ll take them out from the air.”
“Will do. Tread easy. Let’s not start a war.” CJ’s modulated voice tells us to proceed cautiously, but there’s no proceeding cautiously when my woman’s involved.
I give Brady a look. He shushes me with his hand. In that look, he reads me and answers right back.
Bravo team is going to war.
Eleven
Izzy
“Gotta step on the gas, Gareth.” Parker leans out the window, checking the progress of the two trucks in pursuit.
Gareth’s truck bounces wildly on the uneven ground, but it’s rugged and built to last.
With articulating axels, we launch over bumps, sail through the air, and land with slightly less than bone-jarring force.
“All of our damn weapons are in the back.” Colton fires out curse after curse, despite our mother’s presence.
“I can—”
“No!”
The resounding shout from all of my brothers at the same time has me covering my ears.
This isn’t the first time I offer to crawl through the narrow passthrough in the rear window.
It’s also not the first resounding No! I receive from the Dingleberries.
We slowly gain ground, but it’s two against one.
Two trucks against one.
Twice as many men against the six of us.
We have guns, rifles, shotguns, and side arms, but they’re locked securely in the compartments over the wheels. If we stop to let one of my brothers jump out of the truck and in to the truck bed, we’ll lose the lead we barely maintain.
“But we need…”
Another harsh bump, lifts me out of my seat. Thank goodness for seatbelts or that would’ve been my head slamming into the headliner.
Still, I think I’m right.
The first pop of gunfire rings out.
Gareth swerves, but the shot falls short of our truck.
“Enough of this.” I slam the sliding window open and unbuckle before Jude and Parker can stop me.
“Izzy…stop.” Parker calls out, but I ignore him.
While Gareth drives, I twist in my seat and plan my attack.
I’m small, but the window isn’t much bigger. Deciding to just go with it, I dive through the window like I’m diving into a pool.
And promptly get stuck at my hips.
The truck launches into the air, crunching down with force. My hips take the brunt of that bump, leaving me gasping in pain.
Jude pulls on one leg, trying to drag me back inside the cab, while Parker tries to push me through the small window.
Another pop of gunfire dusts the ground a few feet behind our truck.
We careen over a burm and drop into a gulley. Gareth swerves right, keeping us from colliding into the steep bank on the other side.
That little bit of momentum is just what my body needs to slide the rest of the way through the window.
Keeping low, I crouch in the back of the truck.
Gunfire sounds all around me. Either I’m exceptionally lucky, or they’re horrible shots. My hand drifts to the rabbit’s foot securely tied around my neck.
The first vehicle in pursuit flies over the burm behind us and crunches into the opposite bank.
Its partner follows suit, narrowly avoiding a collision. They back up, spitting rocks out from under their tires, and lurch back into motion.
A shot rings out, making me duck. But they’re too far and too unstable for a precision shot.
I open the locker over the left wheel and pull out heavy canvas bags filled with ammunition. These I pass through the gap in the window.
My brothers carry their sidearms on them, but their rifles and shotguns are in the locker.
Heavier, clunkier, more difficult to manage, I thread those through the gap in the rear window one at a time.
With the left wheel locker emptied, I turn my attention to the one on the right. Not as full as the other one, there’s more ammunition at the bottom. Resting on top is my trusty rifle.
Another shot from the pursuing vehicle rings out.
They know they’re too far and on too unstable of a platform to aim with any degree of accuracy. The same can be said of me, but I’ve got something they don’t.
Expert training.
I open the heavy canvas bag with my ammunition inside and pull out a few rounds. Then I scoot back to brace against the cab.
Locked and loaded, I bend a knee and use that to steady my aim.
Gareth flies down the gulley. Steep banks on either side keep us contained, but I know this land.
Gareth does too.
With the truck bouncing, I take aim, but hold my shot. Even I can’t hit the side of a barn with the way the truck bounces over the uneven terrain.
But that will soon end.
This system of gullies empties out onto a dry riverbed.
Hardpacked sand fills the center of that riverbed, which means everything will smooth out in just a little bit.
“Izzy, what are you doing? Get back inside. It’s not safe out there.” Jude calls out, waving for me to climb back inside the truck.
It’s not safe out here, but only marginally safer inside the truck.
Bullets penetrate glass just fine, a fact all my brothers know.
I ignore him and center my breathing, going back to the tips and tricks ingrained by my father when he first taught me to shoot.
Bringing everything down to a center focus, I hold my rifle with a steady grip. The moment the ground beneath us smoothes out, I put my eye to the scope and place my finger on the trigger guard.
Beneath us, heat-baked sand smooths our ride. I take in a slow breath, aim for the front right tire of the lead truck chasing us, and slowly squeeze the trigger.
The tire blows out.
The truck swerves hard to the right. Dust kicks up in a thick plume as the truck comes to a halt.
“She hit the tire!” Parker shouts and gives a hoot, urging me on. “Go! Go!”
The vehicle behind the one I hit swerves to avoid hitting it.
I once again place my eye to the scope. Set my sight on the left front tire and take in a slow, centering breath.
I squeeze the trigger but our truck bounces over a grouping of rocks.
My shot goes wide.
Shit!
We climb out of the riverbed, leaving the smooth sand behind. Determined to get rid of the last truck, I take aim again.
But the ride’s too chaotic.
I can’t get a clear shot.
Frustrated, I prop my rifle beside me while watching the other truck slowly gain on us.
Gareth pushes his truck, demanding its best. The back tires dig in to the loose rock and scree of the bank. We stall for a moment, then the tires dig in.
Up and over, the truck climbs the bank and sails right on over it.
I catch air over the rise, and land with a grimace and a groan.
Reloading, I take aim on the vehicle following us.
We trade shots, but nothing hits. With a curse, I put my weapon down.
This is pointless.
Twisting around, I glance ahead. Gareth heads toward the drill sight where our father waits with more men.
Another pop of gunfire rings out. It hits the tailgate with a ping that sends my heart into a full scale riot. My gut clenches and a sickening wave of fear washes over me.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I steel my nerves and take aim again.
I try for the tire.
My shot’s lined up.
A deep breath in to steady my aim, then I gently pull back on the trigger.
A flurry of gunfire rings out. On its heels is a loud explosion as our left rear tire blows out.
“Shit!” My finger continues its squeeze on the trigger, but goes wide as Gareth tries to control the truck.
We veer wildly to the right, running on the rim of the tire, but that won’t last for long.
We’re essentially dead in the water.
Or will be.
I take aim…
My finger squeezes.
The concussive blast of my rifle makes my ears ring, but I hit the lead tire of the truck.
Like the one before, the truck jerks left as the front tire blows out.
Leaning back, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
But they score another hit.
Our remaining rear tire goes out.
We’re toast.
I bounce in the bed as the truck cants left then right, rocking so violently I’m afraid we might flip.
Solid under pressure, Gareth maintains control.
Nevertheless, we come to a screeching halt… Out in the open.
Vulnerable.
Shots fire.
The men in pursuit pile out of their vehicle. They’re not giving up.
“Out! Out! Out!” Gareth orders everyone out of the truck.
The doors pop open and my brothers peel out.
Mom comes out last. She stands next to me, rifle in hand, armed and determined to protect her young.
Parker reaches up to help me out of the back of the truck. I hand over my rifle as well as my ammunition.
“Come on sis.” Gareth gestures for me to get out. He holds up his arms and I go to him.
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I hop out of the back of the truck. He catches my hips, lowering me to the ground.
“Get to the hood.” Gareth yells at me to get in front of the truck.
Colton and Mom load their weapons and set up their shots.
Jude and I race around to the relative safety provided by the truck.
Parker hands me my rifle as he crouches in the dirt behind the front fender.
My heart bangs away inside my chest, but I otherwise feel surprisingly calm.
As if time stands still…
I take in a breath, exchange a look with my mother, then brace for what comes next.
I’m a competitive shooter, ranked nationally while in college, but this will be the first time I take aim on a human.
Tires are inanimate objects.
I didn’t hurt anyone, but these men are relentless.
“Get down.” Gareth pulls me and Mom down to the ground while Parker, Jude, and Colton trade shots with the men trying to close the distance.
Colton hits one.
That’s all it takes to slow the advance of the others.
They crouch behind small boulders, trading gunfire with my brothers, until there’s a lull, or they get cocky and run to the next boulder that provides cover.
I glance over the hood, looking through the windows, and grit my teeth.
The men from the first truck I disabled sprint to join their fellows.
The six men shooting at us will soon double to twelve.
“What do we do?” Breathless from anxiety, rather than exertion, I’m out of breath.
Adrenaline rushes through me, making my hands shake.
“They’re advancing on us.” Jude steps back to reload.
I realize how he and Parker trade shots, maintaining a steady barrage to slow the men.
Once Jude reloads, Parker steps back to do the same. Twins, those two share a unique bond.
Colton tries to join, but there’s no way for him to do so without coming out behind the cover of the truck.
I glance behind us, noting the terrain. It’s a series of gullies that wind through the land.
“Gareth, what about…” I point toward the gullies. “At least we’ll have better protection.”
The truck does a good job of protecting us, as long as the men are a certain distance away, but our lower legs remain at risk.
If any of them decide to start shooting under the truck, we’re done.
“It’ll work.” He taps Colton on the shoulder. “Take Izzy and Mom. Stay low. We’ll keep them pinned down.”
Mom places her hand on Gareth’s shoulder. It’s almost as if she wants to say something, but she gives a little shake of her head, and turns toward me instead. “You ready, honey?”
Colton and Gareth exchange expressions.
No need to be a mindreader to know what they say between themselves.
Colton slings his rifle over his shoulder, then grabs a bag of ammo in each hand. He turns to me.
“Run fast. Stay low. They shouldn’t see us from where they’re at.”
“Okay.” I sling my rifle over my shoulder and grab my ammo pack.
Mom does the same. As good as I am, she’s a better shot than me.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I never meant for—”
“Hush, honey. We’ll have time for words later.”
“Okay.” For some reason, my eyes well up with tears. I turn toward my brothers—toward Gareth. “And once we get there, you’ll join us, right?”
I need Gareth to tell me that’s the plan.
There’s no way I can leave them behind.
The look in his eye speaks volumes.
He and my brothers will do whatever it takes to keep me safe.
I get that. I recognize the sacrifice, but I refute it.
There has to be another way.
But we’re too exposed, unlike the men shooting at us who hide behind rocks.
This is the only way.
“On three.” Colton checks with me, then Mom.
We both nod.
“One…Two…Three!” Colton takes off, hunching low.
It’s not a sprint.
It’s more of a slow hustle as we stay hidden below the truck.
Hopefully, Gareth’s right and they won’t know we’ve gone. Although, it’ll be obvious soon enough.
It’s about thirty yards to where the gully branches off.
Shots ring out behind us as we sprint to relative safety.
Colton jumps over the bank and drops a few feet. He holds out a hand for Mom, helping her down. I scoot down on my butt, letting my feet slide over the loose scree and rock in a semi-crouch.
The moment I’m down, I spin around, check my weapon, and take aim. Mom mirrors my pose.
“What are we going to do, if…” The words get lodged behind the lump in my throat.
The only way to get these men to stop is to do more than simply wound them.
I’ve never taken a human life, and I only hunted the one time.
Tears filled my eyes as my father congratulated me on my first kill, but I never got over killing that deer.
I went from shooting a defenseless animal to competitive riflery and never looked back.
Now, because of me, my brothers, my mother, and maybe even me, might have to take a life.
Mom will have to kill. There’s a fire in her eyes. She’s not happy with her kids in danger, but she’s prepared to do what she must.
“Mom, I’ve got this.” Colton fishes into his pocket.
He pulls out his phone and hands it to Mom.
“Call Dad. Tell him what’s happening. See if he can send men…” There’s no further need for him to finish.
Mom takes the phone, dials, and puts it to her ear. She scoots down and makes the call.
Meanwhile, Colton and I exchange looks, then take aim.
Our view isn’t the best.
With the truck thirty yards away, the men behind it another fifty yards further, our shots are complicated to say the least.
We have to lay down covering fire, without endagering Gareth, Luke, or Parker. It sounds easier than it is.
But we provide cover for my brothers.
Colton signals that we’re ready.
Jude and Parker don’t turn their backs, too busy laying down suppressive fire, but Gareth waits for our signal.
The moment he taps Jude and Parker on the shoulder, Colton and I spread out to cover their retreat.
The three of them sprint for cover, not worrying about whether the men will see them or not, because Colton and I lay a wasteland of suppressive fire to cover our bothers.
Bullets fly, but they go wide. My brothers slide into the gulley without a scratch.
“Your father’s on the way. His men are out with the truck, but are coming back. He’s heading out on Brutus.” Mom’s speech is devoid of emotion. She says only what we need to know.
Despite that, her hands are steady. Her grip on her gun is firm.
Goddamn, but I have a kickass family protecting me.
Dad is on his way.
Brutus is one of many of our ATVs. Each has a name. Brutus is a Razor ATV, which means it’s a beast over rugged terrain, and it seats four.
