Noah dropped his tools and grabbed for Gary’s arm, pinning it.
Brenna shoved in close, eyes locked on the detonator. She yanked it free, tore it from Gary’s grip. He roared, trying to twist away. Colt pinned him harder, blood from Gary’s leg pooling under them.
Harlan pressed a knee to his back. “It’s over.”
Gary kept struggling, breath ragged. But the switch was gone. Brenna backed away, detonator clutched in her hands, chest heaving.
Colt didn’t move. He stayed right there, hand still wrapped around Gary’s broken wrist.
Just in case.
Colt leaned in close, his voice low and certain. “You don’t get to take anyone else with you, you son of a bitch. You’re done.”
----- ? ----
Chapter Twenty
----- ? ----
The morning light bled over the horizon, soft and gold, washing Crossfire Creek in a kind of hush that felt too peaceful for what they’d just come through.
Brenna leaned against the SUV, her boots dusty, hands scraped, and mind still catching up. The sirens had gone silent. The gunfire had stopped. Gary was in custody. Beck was alive.
They all were.
But the echoes hadn’t quieted yet.
Now, the place was swarming with the chaos that came at the end of an op. The bomb squad was inside Timberline, and the CSIs had arrived to process the exterior while they waited for the all-clear to get inside and start gathering whatever they could find. Both county cops and Crossfire Creek deputies were on the scene.
Just on the other side of the road from where she sat, Harlan, Beck, Garrett, Cal, and Colt stood in a tight circle with Noah, voices low. A debrief, probably.
A Crossfire Ops thing.
One she had excused herself from. Oh, Noah and the others had tried to include her, but she’d said she needed to catch her breath. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Breath catching was a high priority right now. That and tamping down some of the raw nerves that were still jangling just beneath her skin.
She let her gaze drift past the Crossfire Ops team to the EMTs still working. The six hostages were scattered across the grass and pavement, wrapped in blankets, bandaged, dazed.
Two had already been loaded into ambulances. One with a broken arm, the other still fighting through the fog of a likely concussion. Neither injury appeared to be life-threatening.
Gary was heading to the hospital, too. In restraints. And after that, straight to jail once he recovered from the bullet she’d put in his knee.
Brenna pulled in that much needed breath and let it out slowly.
It was over.
It had been a nightmare, one more in a long line she’d carry with her. But it could have been worse.
A hell of a lot worse.
Brenna groaned under her breath when she saw Naomi heading her way.
The woman moved slowly, one arm wrapped around her middle. A fresh bandage covered the side of her head, clean and tight, a stark contrast to the blood and chaos from earlier.
Naomi didn’t have her usual edge. No sharp words. No fire. Maybe she, too, was still catching her breath.
She stopped a few feet away and looked at Brenna with tired eyes. “Thank you. For stopping him.”
Brenna opened her mouth, about to say she was just doing her job. But the words caught. This hadn’t been a job. Not really.
