Charlie bends down, retrieving a gun from his ankle holster. “You know what to do with this?” he asks, putting it in my hands.
“All too well,” I answer roughly, accepting it with dread and certainty.
“It’s like a fucking clown car over here. A dozen people exiting the trucks, heading into the house,” Bram warns. “Ten—no, eleven—men, a woman, and…”—he lets out a breath—“a small child. Something tells me they’re not going to stay in the house once they find the guy they left behind.”
“Agreed,” Anders says. “We have to assume they’re grabbing additional weapons. We need to move now before they get into an unmanageable position.”
Charlie sends me a sharp nod, which I return. He, Erik, Hopper, and Anders jog to the back of the building, filing out in military precision. I pull up my phone as they switch their cams back to night vision, the four of them slipping out through the cut part of the fence.
“Fuck.” Levy’s voice comes back on the line, edged in panic. “Guys, they’re exiting the house. They’re headed right to you.”
As soon as our guys clear the fence, they’re met by a circle of enormous men, all of whom look like they’ve seen the inside of a prison. Fuck.
Anders pulls a gun and a knife—shit. Anders shoots one guy in the head, and then…holy fuck. These cameras pick up every damn detail, even in the dark.
Charlie and Erik are in hand-to-hand combat, and I’d forgotten how deadly they could be. Charlie’s got a worthy opponent, but my money is still on the laid-back warrior. And Erik just—holy shit—broke his guy’s neck.
Meanwhile, Hopper grins as he slices a man’s throat. I initially think he’s missed the jugular because the guy keeps going, but after a moment, blood begins to pour like a curtain down his neck, and he drops in place. Hopper then shoots a second man before the guy with the slit neck even knows he’s dead.
From Anders’ camera, I see the front door opening on the house. It’s Joanna, and she’s leaving with a skinny kid.
“Fuck, guys, I think she’s leaving with that woman’s kid,” I murmur quickly through the comms.
“On it,” Bram says. “Nacho, take over on exterior cams.”
“Got it,” I whisper-shout, thumbing to the live shot.
Jesucristo.Our guys by the fence are outnumbered, and the remaining bad guys are proving a lot more difficult to kill. That Joanna chick shoves the kid in the rear truck and begins to back out. As she reaches the end of the driveway, Bram and Levy pull up, blocking her exit. I let out a relieved breath and then realize what they’ve done.
They’ve put themselves directly in the fight.
Getting out of the truck, they don’t have a second to think before Joanna pulls a gun, shooting wildly. Levy pushes Bram aside and jerks right as the camera catches what I think is blood spray from his side. Bram’s head whips around. Seeing Levy holding his side, Bram pulls his gun. Taking aim, he pulls the trigger as Levy grabs the kid.
That’s…definitely blood spray. From Joanna’s head. She drops to the ground like a broken doll.
The exterior cams aren’t as high res as the body ones, but I can make out Bram checking in with Levy and Levy waving him off. Right then, shadows begin swarming in from behind the house. They don’t make much sense. Until they do.
“Guys, the dogs. She must’ve let the dogs loose,” I say into the comms, my voice far steadier than I feel.
Blocked off from their truck, Bram and Levy boost the kid into the back of Joanna’s truck before climbing in themselves, barely avoiding the snarling jaws of about a dozen German Shepherds. The dogs are jumping on the bumper, determined to get into the bed of the truck but unable to get purchase on the shiny chrome.
Bram curses, pulling out his gun again.
“Sitz! Platz!” he shouts, and Levy joins in, but the dogs aren’t responding to their commands.
Hopper starts racing toward them. “I’ve got the dogs, don’t shoot!”
A huge guy with snipped handcuffs tries to pull him into a fight, but Hopper pulls his knife and…ouch. Another guy dead before he hits the ground, and Hopper resumes his race toward the truck.
The dogs are scrambling, one finding a way into the truck bed. Bram has his gun out, ready to shoot, while Levy hunkers around the kid behind him. Hopper runs up to them while waving his hands, and all the dogs stop, assessing the new threat.
The footage is grainy, but I’m pretty sure Hopper pats his thigh. I switch to his cam. His voice is friendly and playful as he asks the universal question. “Hey! Who’s a good doggy? Huh? Are you a good doggy?”
The dogs abandon the back of the truck and surround Hopper, tails wagging. I don’t know how the hell he turned that around.
Bram turns to his brother and the kid. “Levy, you’re hurt. The kid is the priority. Take him and hide in the house.”
“It’s just a graze. What are you doing?” Levy asks, grunting as he helps the kid down from the truck bed.
