Hud parked and they stepped out, hands on their weapons, each man thumbing his retainer button open. The house sat back from the road, curtains drawn, no vehicles in sight. It had the feeling of a place left in a hurry.
“Damn it.” Hud scanned the yard. “I need him to be here.”
“I’ll try the door,” Luke said, moving toward the porch with his weapon drawn.
Hud and Creed hung back, watching the windows. Luke climbed the steps, knocked and waited. Nothing. He knocked again, harder.
“I don’t think he’s—”
The door exploded outward in a shower of splinters. Luke dropped and ran, clearing the porch and throwing himself behind the truck with Hud and Creed.
“Son of a bitch,” Luke breathed.
“You hit?” Creed asked.
“No. I’m good.”
“I’d say he’s home,” Hud said.
“Not exactly rolling out the welcome mat,” Creed said.
“Nope.” Hud looked at Creed. “Cover me.”
Creed came up over the hood and opened fire on the front of the house. Hud broke from behind the truck and ran hard for the side of the house, pressing his back flat against the siding.
“Tanner Whitman!” His voice carried across the yard. “You’re surrounded. Put the weapon down and come out with your hands up.”
Silence.
“I’ll count to three. After that we’re coming in and it will not go well for you.”
Hud caught Creed’s eye and signaled toward the other side of the house. Creed gave a short nod. Hud and Luke laid down cover fire and Creed moved, low and fast, making it to the house wall without taking a hit.
“You’re not walking away from this, Whitman,” Hud called out. “Come out now and we can talk. Stay in there and this ends badly for you.”
He watched Creed signal that he was going around back, then looked at Luke. “Stay put.”
Luke nodded.
Hud moved onto the porch, back against the wall, inching toward the door. He ducked under the window, straightened on the other side, reached out and turned the knob. He shoved it open and another blast tore through the doorjamb. Hud took a breath, stepped into the frame with his weapon up.
“Last chance.”
A figure broke from the back of the room and ran.
“Creed! Heads up!”
“I got him!”
Hud moved through the house and out the back door to find Creed already kneeling over the man, cuffing his hands behind his back.
“I don’t know anything,” the man said into the dirt.
Creed grabbed his collar. “Are you Tanner Whitman?”
Silence.
Creed shook him. “I asked you a question.”
