She doesn't argue. She yanks the door open and climbs in. The engine's already running.
The van stops a short distance away, door still open but nobody's getting out. They're assessing, recalculating now that their target has armed backup and cover. Movement flickers through the SUV's tinted windshield. The driver's on a radio or phone, calling for instructions.
"Marc." Sela's voice from inside the truck, steady despite the adrenaline. "We can't stay here."
A standoff that only ends badly if we wait. Either they decide the risk is worth it and open fire, or local law enforcement shows up and we spend hours explaining why a deputy and a civilian have weapons drawn in a diner parking lot.
Neither option works.
"When I say go, you drive straight at the SUV. Don't slow down. Don't stop. Ram it if you have to."
"And you?"
"I'll handle the van. Go!"
Sela floors it. My truck shoots forward, tires squealing against asphalt. Weapon up, I move toward the van, putting myself between Sela's escape route and the contractors. The van jerks backward, the driver trying to reposition, but too slow. Sela's past, heading straight for the SUV blocking the exit.
The SUV driver spots her coming, tries to pull forward to maintain the block. But Sela doesn't hesitate. She doesn't slow. She clips the SUV's rear quarter panel with my truck's reinforced bumper—not a full-speed ram, just a controlled impact that spins the SUV out of position and opens the exit.
My truck roars through the gap and onto the street.
The van's side door slams shut. The engine revs. They're going after her.
The van accelerates toward the exit. I'm on foot with no vehicle, but I'm not letting them pursue Sela without a fight. I aim for the rear tire and fire. The shot punches through rubber with a sharp pop. The van lurches but keeps moving. I adjust and fire again. The front tire blows.
The van swerves hard. The driver tries to maintain control on two blown tires but physics wins. The vehicle fishtails, screeches sideways, slams into a parked car with a metallic crunch. The impact spins the van around until it stops perpendicular to the parking lot exit, blocking the lane.
The side door flies open. Two or three contractors bail out and scatter in different directions across the parking lot. Dark clothes, tactical gear, moving fast toward cover.
Weapon up, I've got seconds to decide. Chase armed professionals who'll split up and disappear into the surrounding streets or secure the driver and the evidence sitting in that van.
I choose the driver and evidence.
"Driver! Hands where I can see them!"
The driver's door opens slowly. Hands come out first. He's a white male, thirties, short hair, athletic build. He's wearing tactical pants and a gray jacket that could hide body armor. No visible weapons, but that means nothing.
"Step out of the vehicle. Keep your hands up."
He complies with military precision in every movement. He's controlled and assessing. He tracks everything—me, my weapon, distance to cover, escape routes.
"Turn around. Hands behind your head."
I move in fast, weapon trained center mass, and kick his legs apart. I cuff him tight, hands behind his back, then conduct thepat-down. There's a gun in a concealed holster at his hip. I drop the mag, clear the chamber, toss it aside.
I keep searching. There's a backup piece at his ankle and a knife clipped inside his waistband. After a complete disarm, I pull his wallet and check the ID. It's a Colorado driver's license for David Moore with a Denver address. I pocket the wallet.
"On your knees."
He complies without argument, kneeling on the asphalt. Rough on the knees, but it's the least he deserves after trying to kidnap Sela.
I pull out my phone, keeping the weapon trained on the contractor, and call state police dispatch.
"This is Deputy Marc Wells, Whitewater Junction Sheriff's Department. Need backup at the Route 9 Diner parking lot. Shots fired, one suspect in custody, multiple suspects fled the scene. Send a patrol unit and a tow."
"Copy, Deputy Wells. Closest unit is en route; should be there within minutes. Are you injured?"
"Negative. Suspect is secured."
