Laney pressed herself lower against the concrete lip of the culvert, heart hammering. Every muscle in her body screamed to move, to run to Harlan, but she forced herself to stay put. She could not blow his chance at flanking Billy.
But the fear dug deep, raw and brutal. Billy had killed David right here. She could still hear the echo of that blast in her nightmares, still see her injured husband. Now Billy was back, and Harlan was out there in his sights.
Laney’s throat clamped shut, fury and terror colliding inside her chest. The thought clawed at her, relentless. What if Billy did it again? What if he killed Harlan the way he had killed David?
She adjusted her grip on her Glock, determined not to let it happen.
Laney’s hands tightened on her Glock. She could not fire blindly into the smoke. She had no way of knowing exactly where Harlan or the Crossfire Ops team were, and one mistake could cost them everything.
So she held. She waited, her pulse hammering, her prayers tumbling out in silence.Please, someone stop him.
Then she saw him.
Billy crawled from behind the broken heap of metal and concrete, dragging himself toward the grenade launcher. His fingers stretched, curling around the weapon as if it were salvation.
Laney’s stomach clenched. She could not wait any longer. If he got that launcher into position, they would all be dead.
She raised her gun, aimed, and fired.
At the same instant, another shot rang out. From the corner of her eye she caught movement, and there was Harlan, across the road, crouched low and steady behind Billy.
Both bullets found their mark.
Billy jerked, shock etched across his face, then he crumpled. His body hit the dirt hard, his hand slipping away from the grenade launcher. He did not move again.
David’s killer was dead.
----- ? ----
Chapter Eighteen
----- ? ----
The smell of burned fuel still hung in the air, smoke drifting over the wrecked stretch of road. Harlan stood near the culvert, his Glock lowered at his side, and he let out a breath that he had been holding since the first explosion.
Laney was beside him, her hair tangled, her face streaked with soot, but she was alive. The relief of that alone nearly brought him to his knees.
Sheriff Barnes was on scene now, barking out orders while deputies and Crossfire Ops operatives moved through the rubble. Because both sides of the road were gone, responders had been forced to park farther out and hike in, lugging gear and medical supplies across uneven ground. It made everything slower, more chaotic, but they were here, and that mattered.
Harlan let himself take in the scene piece by piece. Billy was down for good, sprawled on the ground where he had fallen. Sherry was being tended to by Beck Culver, Crossfire Ops’ combat medic, who had jogged in ahead of the rest of the team. Other deputies secured the area, their radios crackling with clipped voices. It was a mess, but it was over.
Well, almost.
This hellish nightmare would no doubt stay with them for a long time.
He looked at Laney again. She was checking her phone, no doubt making sure Evie was safe back at the ranch.
The worry lines still creased her face, but she caught his gaze and managed a faint, trembling smile. He could live with the wreckage, the noise, the endless smoke in his lungs. What he couldn’t have lived with was losing her.
For now, she was safe. And that was enough.
Laney’s voice pulled him back from the chaos around them. “Evie and Mom are fine,” she said, her tone soft but weighted with relief. “Garrett and Cal are still with them.”
Harlan closed his eyes for a moment, letting that sink in. Later, he would thank his fellow operatives for holding the line and protecting Laney’s family. For now, he thanked his lucky stars that Evie had been nowhere near this hell of fire, smoke, and shattered asphalt.
Movement drew his attention, yanking him out of his thoughts once again. Beck Culver stepped back from where Sherry lay propped against a deputy’s jacket. EMTs moved in with their packs, their boots crunching over broken gravel. Beck turned to Harlan and Laney, his face streaked with sweat and soot but steady.
“I’ve stabilized her as much as I can,” Beck reported. “The injuries aren’t life-threatening, and I have no doubts that she’ll pull through.”
