Isla’s eyes narrowed, her grip steady. She didn’t need reminding who that was. The guard dog who had pinned them down outside Harris’s warehouse. The one who had almost gotten them killed.
Kane fired again, the bullets cracking into the concrete near the entryway, deliberately angled to keep Garrett, Isla, and the others pinned but away from Harris’ position inside.
“He’s not letting up,” Garrett muttered, anger cutting through the thrum of adrenaline. “And he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
The rain came harder, a sheet of water slashing through the broken windows and pattering against the cracked floor. Garrett wiped at his eyes, squinting through the blur, but it was no use. He didn’t have a clean shot. Kane had chosen his spot well, staying low and tight behind the cover of the ruined shop.
Through the comm, Jackson’s voice cut in, steady but urgent. “I’m out of my vehicle. Circling now. I’ll get behind him and take him out.”
Garrett’s grip tightened on his rifle. “Copy that,” he said, relief cutting through the frustration. If anyone could flank Kane without being seen, it was Jackson.
More gunfire erupted, the rounds cracking against the concrete and spitting chips into the air. Garrett ducked back just in time. Then a sound cut through the storm and the gunfire, sharp and awful.
A grunt. Followed by Raines’ rough curse.
Garrett’s stomach dropped. “Raines,” he barked into the comm. “Talk to me.”
“Shoulder,” the sheriff growled, his breath tight with pain. “Caught a bullet.”
Hell.
Garrett pressed harder against the column, trying to get a glimpse without getting his head blown off. The sheriff was tough, but a shoulder wound could still bleed him out if they didn’t get the upper hand fast.
Gunfire rattled against the concrete again, the storm swallowing the sound in thunder and driving rain. Garrett braced himself tighter against the column, teeth clenched, when Jackson’s voice crackled in over the comm.
“Another vehicle approaching,” Jackson said. “I’m backing off Kane to see who’s coming in.”
Garrett’s gut tightened. “Dammit. What now?”
Before Isla could answer, Harris’ voice carried from inside the school. Raw, desperate. “Who’s doing this? Is it Anais?”
The name hit Garrett like a hard shove. He flicked a look toward Isla, and she looked as stunned as he felt.
“Why would Anais do this?” Garrett shouted back, fighting to keep his voice from carrying too far outside.
“I don’t know,” Harris groaned, his voice breaking with strain. “But she got in touch with me a few hours ago. Said she was my sister.”
The rain hammered harder, the storm growing louder, but Garrett could hear the anguish in Harris’s tone even through the chaos.
Garrett cursed again, anger threading through the frustration already twisting inside him. Anais hadn’t said a damn word about contacting Harris. What else had she kept from them? And was she the one pulling the strings on this ambush? If so, why? Who was she covering for?
He didn’t have time to chase the questions. Headlights cut through the storm and darkness, beams slicing across the crumbling pavement and washing out everything in their glare.
“Stay down,” Jackson ordered through the comm, his voice clipped. “Didn’t get a look at who it is.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened. “Forget the vehicle. Deal with the shooter. We’ll handle whoever just showed up.”
He adjusted his grip on his weapon and glanced at Isla. Her eyes locked with his, steady even with the rain plastering her hair to her face. They didn’t need words. They were about to face another unknown.
A car rolled in and stopped on the road in front of the school, maybe twenty yards out. Headlights cut through the sheets of rain, making it impossible to see who was behind the wheel. Garrett raised his weapon, muscles tight, waiting for a door to open.
Then the gunfire stopped.
For a few seconds, only the storm filled the silence. Garrett’s pulse pounded in his ears, the lull almost worse than the barrage. Then the shots roared back, harder, faster, Kane’s weapon chewing into the walls and ground with renewed fury. Kane wanted them dead.
“Got eyes on Kane,” Jackson’s voice came sharp over the comm. “Lining him up now.”
One clean shot rang out, echoing over the storm.
