Chapter 5 - The Ambush at Sunset
The drive back to the estate felt like moving through the calm before a massive storm. The sky over Dallas turned a bruised, angry purple as a line of Texas thunderstorms began to roll in from the west.
When I pulled up to the security gates, they were wide open. The power to the intercom system had been cut.
My tactical training immediately kicked in. I parked my SUV down the street, out of sight, and approached the property through the dense treeline bordering the eastern wall. The wind was picking up, howling through the live oaks, ripping leaves from the branches.
I slipped through the side gate, my hand instinctively resting on the holstered sidearm I was authorized to carry as an active-duty military officer traveling under special orders.
The courtyard was dark. The dog crate was gone—likely removed by Vanessa’s people to destroy the evidence.
Suddenly, a heavy shadow detached itself from the side of the house.
"Marcus?" I whispered into the darkness.
No answer.
I spun around just as a heavy iron pipe swung through the air, narrowly missing my head. The force of the swing cracked against the brick wall, sending sparks flying into the night.
It was Julian. And behind him stood two large, rough-looking men in civilian clothes—local thugs he had hired from his old private security contacts.
"You should have stayed at the lawyer's office, bitch," Julian snarled, his face bruised and swollen from our encounter the previous day. "My uncle told us you went to see Vance. We know you have the papers."
"Where is my grandmother, Julian?" I asked, stepping backward into the open courtyard, maximizing my field of view so I could keep all three men in sight.
"She’s upstairs, locked up tight," Vanessa’s voice called out from the second-story balcony. She was looking down at me, holding a glass of white wine, her red dress swirling in the rising storm wind. "But don't worry about her, Claire. Worry about yourself. An accidental shooting during a home invasion... it happens all the time in this part of town. Especially when the home invader is an unstable, unhinged veteran suffering from PTSD."
"You've planned this out," I said, keeping my voice steady, letting them think I was trapped.
"My brother is already dispatching a squad car," Vanessa laughed, her voice carrying over the thunder. "But they're going to take their time getting here. Long enough for Julian to clean up the trash."
The two thugs advanced on me, drawing heavy tactical batons. Julian stepped back, pulling a black semi-automatic pistol from his waistband.
"End of the line, Lieutenant," Julian said, raising the gun.
He didn't see the red laser dot appear on his chest.
He didn't hear the silent approach of four heavily armed men in tactical vests bearing the yellow letters FBI across their backs.
"Federal Agents! Drop the weapon! Drop it now!" a voice boomed from the darkness of the driveway.
Agent Sarah Rodriguez, my old academy classmate, stepped into the courtyard light, her M4 rifle raised and locked onto Julian’s forehead. Behind her, a dozen tactical agents flooded the property, their weapons trained on the thugs.
May you like
Julian froze, his gun hand trembling. The two thugs immediately dropped their batons and raised their hands.
"Don't do it, Julian," I said softly, finally pulling my own sidearm and aiming it directly at his heart. "I shoot a lot better than you do."
