Justice is Coming

The sound of the shot blasting through the air caused her fear to spike. She was pretty sure it hadn’t come from Declan’s gun but rather their attacker’s. And it sounded close. That meant the man likely hadn’t escaped after all, that instead he’d just changed positions so that he could ambush Declan.

“You okay, Declan?” someone shouted. Probably Wyatt.

Declan didn’t answer, and that didn’t help the fear roaring through her. Despite his order for her to stay put, Eden stayed crouched down, but she made her way to the window. It took her several heart-stopping moments before she caught just a glimpse of Declan. He peered around the edge of the house before he snapped back out of sight.

For a good reason.

Another shot. This one took out a chunk of the house right where Declan was.

Eden got her gun ready, and her gaze fired all around in an effort to see what she could of the house and grounds. She still didn’t see the shooter, but judging from the angle of that last shot, he was somewhere near Declan’s black truck. It was certainly large enough to conceal a man and give him decent cover, but the guy might also use it to escape.

She caught some movement from the corner of her eye. Not Declan. Not by the truck, either. This was on the other side of the yard near a cluster of cottonwoods with their winter-bare branches. Someone was behind the trunk of the largest tree, and even though she only got a glimpse of him, she thought it might be Wyatt. She hoped so anyway.

The shots stopped, and quiet settled in. Declan didn’t come out from cover. Neither did the shooter or the other man behind the cottonwood. The deafening shots had been bad enough, but the silence allowed her to think, and the only thing she could think about was just how deadly this had turned and how much worse it could get.

And then the silence shattered.

Declan shouted something, and he bolted out from the side of the house. Not standing up, either. He was on the ground and slid forward on the ice-crusted grass. Aiming low, he fired.

On the other side of the yard, the man behind the cottonwood did the same.

Both shots went in the direction of the truck. But not through it, beneath it. She heard the gunman howl in pain.

“Drop your weapon!” Declan shouted. He got to his feet and, using the trees for cover, he made his way closer to the truck.

It seemed to take an eternity, but the gunman finally limped out while he held on to the truck. Probably because, from what she could tell, he’d been shot in his lower left leg and upper right thigh. He threw his rifle onto the ground and lifted his left hand in the air.

“I need a doctor, quick.” The gunman’s voice was a hoarse growl and didn’t mask the pain.

His injuries didn’t seem to be life threatening, but he was bleeding. Eden didn’t have much sympathy for someone who’d just tried to kill them, but she wanted him alive. And talking.

The gunman was wearing dark clothes and a stocking cap, but she could see his face now. He was heavily muscled and had a wide nose that appeared to have been broken a couple of times. Part of her had hoped she might recognize him. A former disgruntled client, maybe. Or someone associated with her father. But no. He was a stranger.

“Call an ambulance,” Declan instructed Wyatt.

His brother stepped fully out from the cottonwood and took out his phone.

“Why are you here?” Declan asked the man. He kept his gun trained on him and walked closer.

“I’m on orders.” The man caught onto the truck with both hands, and that answer seemed to take a lot of effort. But at least now they knew he was a hired gun.

Well, unless he was lying.

Declan inched closer to the man. Wyatt, too, after he put his phone back in his pocket.

“The ambulance is on the way,” Wyatt relayed. “But my advice is for you to start talking.”

The man glanced around as if trying to figure out what to do. She prayed he didn’t try to pick up his gun and attempt an escape. It’d be suicide with two armed marshals closing in on him.

“Talking wouldn’t be good for my health,” he answered. “Call that ambulance and tell them to hurry up.”

Wyatt didn’t make an attempt to do that. Both Declan and he moved forward, both still using the trees as cover until they reached the clearing between the truck and them. The gunman didn’t appear to have any other weapons, but maybe Declan and Wyatt would stay put until the ambulance arrived. The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than she heard the sound.

Another blast.

Definitely a gunshot, but this one seemed to come out of nowhere. Eden shouted for Declan and his brother to get down, but her warning wasn’t necessary. They were already headed to the ground anyway, but they hadn’t managed to do that before there was another shot.

Then another.

Eden sucked in her breath hard, and with her gun gripped in her hand, she pivoted from one side to the other, bracing herself to see the shots slam into either Declan or Wyatt. Or both.

But that didn’t happen.

The gunman by the truck lurched forward, the impact of the bullets jolting through his body. It all happened in a split second, but he crumpled into a heap on the ground.

“Someone shot him,” she mumbled. And that someone wasn’t Declan or his brother.

“Who the hell fired those shots?” Declan asked.

But Wyatt only shook his head. “Not the guy in the back, because he’s dead. I had to shoot him.”

Eden got ready to return fire. Wyatt and Declan did the same, but there were no more shots. In fact, there was no sign of the person who’d just shot the gunman.

But there was another sound.

The roar of a car engine. It was on the west side of the property. Probably on the old ranch trail. Eden knew it was there because that was where she’d left her own vehicle.

“He’s getting away!” Declan shouted, and he raced in the direction of the sound.

That brought Eden back onto the porch, and she eased out into the yard, following Wyatt.

Toward the downed gunman.

Wyatt made it to the man first, and he stooped down, put his fingers to the man’s neck. Because of the angle of his face, Eden couldn’t see his expression, but she got a clear view of Declan’s when he started running back toward them.

Declan kept watch behind him, but he took out his phone and requested assistance. The ranch trail led to the main road, and he asked for someone to respond to that area immediately. He didn’t stop there. He hauled her behind the truck. Probably because he didn’t want her out in the open in case that gunman returned.

Wyatt met his brother’s gaze before he moved away from the man on the ground. “He’s dead.”

Declan mumbled something she didn’t catch, but she didn’t need to hear it to see the frustration in his eyes and face. “You’re sure the other gunman is dead, too?”

Wyatt nodded. “There was no ID on him. Nothing except extra ammo...and a note.”

That snagged both Declan’s and her attention. “What kind of note?” Declan asked.

Eden figured that whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Hired killers didn’t usually bring happy news.

“It’s a single sheet of paper, folded. It was sticking out of the guy’s pocket, but I looked at it when I saw Kirby’s name scrawled on the outside.”