Page 32 of Dangerous Silence
Wil glared at me, his eyes narrowed. Then he sucked in a breath and turned to his wife. “You’re armed?”
Ellie tapped her hips. “Got my knives.”
I turned to Demi. “You can wait here,” I said, gesturing to the community center and the orchard, “Or lie down in the car. That’s one of the safest places.”
“I’m good,” she said.
“You’re good?” I raised a brow. “There will be a lot of bullets in a few minutes here.”
“My dad was always packing.” She shrugged. “I was with him when the butcher shop got broken into once.”
I stared at her for a moment, her eyes stormy. It was hard to read how she was feeling. I’m sure she thought that the burglars were after Shep’s money and that he turned them into the police.
But her emotions weren’t my responsibility.
We got into position, angled around the home. Ellie walked down, showed herself to the camera, then walked inside. Wil cracked his neck.
“Calm down,” Derek said over the earpieces. “He’ll be dead in a few.”
“He better be.”
On the mic, we heard Ellie and Cannon talking, and then their footsteps came closer to the gate. We all shifted into position.
Cannon came into view, his hair cut close to his leathery head. He stopped at the gate.
“Wait,” he said.
“Come on,” Ellie said, pulling his arm. “I’m starving.” He shoved Ellie out of the way. She smiled, pretending as if it meant nothing. “Let’s go. That steak is not going to eat itself.”
Cannon stared in the distance, then turned to where Demi was waiting.
Had he spotted Demi?
He pulled out his gun.
Ellie swung her arms towards him in a quick movement, knocking the gun out of his hand. But he elbowed her in the face, her nose bleeding. Without missing a beat, Ellie grabbed her knives and the rest of us started firing. Cannon shrunk back into the shadows of his house.
I ran forward, Ron and Derek following me. Wil ran to Ellie. The rest were watching the perimeter, making sure Cannon didn’t make a run for it. Demi stayed in the nook of a tree. At least she was staying out of it. Warmth fluttered in my chest. But why?
There wasn’t any time to think about it. I kept moving forward, stepping through the gates, ready to search the house. There were no audible or visible alarms, but there were cameras in every available space. Cannon was likely watching the footage. The best we could hope was that one of us would distract him while the other killed him.
I turned the corner, going through an office, the filing cabinets lining the side of the room, an empty bottle of whiskey on the desk. A jack and jill bathroom attached. Then through another bedroom, empty except for a recliner facing the window. Out of that door, and into a kitchen. I kept the lights off, inching through the space, not making a sound, ready and armed for whatever came. Bullets echoed in another room, and I rushed toward the sound. Derek and Cannon were in a standoff, Derek’s arm bleeding. Cannon turned toward me, bullets flying, but I shot him in quick succession, hammering him to the ground.
I lifted my brow at Derek to ask his status. He held his wound. “It hurts like a bitch,” he said.
“Where’s Ron?” I asked. Derek tilted his head back. Hearing us over the earpieces, Ron appeared behind Derek quickly. Luckily, he was unharmed. “Drive Derek to the doctor,” I said. Ron nodded.
The two of them headed to the car, while I went outside. My eyes instantly went to the community center, finding Demi. A look of fascination was stretched across her face, her eyes wide, her gaze pinned on me.
Me.
She was okay. That was good.
I turned to notify my other men to search the house for info, but Wil stomped towards me. He swung a fist, but I blocked his punch. He sent another, and another, until we were rolling on the ground.
“You idiot!” he said. “You could have—”
“She chose to help!” I yelled.
