“I disarmed them both,” CJ says in a rush. “But there’s a third man. He left talking into a radio.”
“I think it was Wakefield,” I say. “He might have gotten an alert. Our team is coming to make arrests any minute.”
“Because of us?” CJ asks.
I shake my head. “We need to go. Before things start happening.”
“Let me walk!” Linnea insists as we move toward the stairs.
“The ground is freezing,” CJ fires back.
“We’ll be faster!”
As much as I want to carry her myself, I know Linnea’s right. Our safety depends on speed now.
I exit the cellar first, my weapon drawn, and scan the grounds. The rain pours down, cold and hard on my head and shoulders and splattering on every surface. A soft yellow light from the farmhouse windows shines over the slushy grounds. I wish it was still frozen, so our footsteps wouldn’t be so obvious, but I can’t think about that.
The three big houses are blurry, dark forms in the driving rain. A faint light glows from inside the barn—just enough to outline its hulking shape in the darkness. If we can make it there, it’s a straight shot to the forest.
“Go!” I bark as Linnea pushes from CJ’s hold, her face set in a determined grimace. The two of them take off, melting into the rainy blackness.
Squinting against the rain, I sprint after them, weapon ready, bracing myself for gunfire or a shout of alarm. Every stride sends hot needles into my hip and groin. I say a secret pledge to bargain with the pain—let us get out of this alive, and I’ll get the damn surgery.
At the barn, CJ and Linnea duck inside, out of sight. Panting and limping, I reach them, but Linnea’s staring at the farmhouse now behind us, her eyes going wide.
“We have to go back!”
I spin to see the side window is now crowded with two small faces. But just as quickly, they’re gone. The front door opens and for a moment, I think it’s the kids in the window trying to follow us.
But the yellow glow spilling into the storm is enough to outline the shape of two men, both with guns drawn. The farmhouse door shuts, and I lose them in the rain.
Shit. Do they know where we are?
Behind me, breathing fast, CJ chambers a round. “I’ll cover, you both get to the woods.”
“No,” I grit out. If only I could reach Luke. Are he and Annette already here? How many kids are in that farmhouse? How can I protect them without putting us at risk? “Take Linn and get her to safety.”
“But what about those kids? We can’t just leave them!” Linnea whispers.
“It’s too dangerous,” I tell her. I’ll just have to hope they hide like I told them to.
At the back of the farmhouse, the cellar door creaks open. Seconds later a shout pierces the night, followed by radio chatter. A figure flashes past the farmhouse’s side window. Is he heading our way? Or joining the men at the front of the house?
I jerk my chin toward the back of the barn. “Go.”
Linnie gives me one final pleading glance before CJ whisks her deeper into the barn. My pulse thunders in my ears as I watch the grounds, Glock tight in my grip. The glow of the farmhouse’s front porch lights outlines a few figures, but it’s impossible to decipher their agitated conversation in this rain. One of them turns toward the barn. Does he see me hiding in the shadows? My heart gallops in my chest, but I loosen my grip on my Glock and carefully widen my stance. I will do whatever it takes to defend my family, even kill. The man looking in my direction starts walking my way, but a bright lightfrom the compound entrance flashes through the trees, drawing his attention.
Headlights. Someone’s coming.
There’s a burst of radio chatter and both guards take off running. I’m about to peel off from the wall and sprint after Linn and CJ when gunfire splits the night.
Chapter Forty-Four
Squinting at the hard rain,with one arm slung around Linnea’s waist to keep her upright, I get us to the edge of the pasture. Linnea’s breathing in pained gulps and her steps are uneven. I should be carrying her but she’s too stubborn.
At the boundary fence, the only way to get Linnea over it without tearing up her bare feet is to use my rain jacket to cushion the barbed wire. She’s trembling so hard and whimpering from the effort that it takes everything I have to keep my shit together.
“Almost there, baby,” I praise. “You’re doing so good.”