Savior in the Saddle (18 page)

She scurried away and Brandon kept watch. The car came even closer but stopped just on the other side of his mailbox. The doors didn’t open, and he saw no signs of the driver trying to exit.

It was possible that the person didn’t know they were inside. After all, their car was parked in the garage with the door down, and they hadn’t turned on any lights. Maybe, just maybe, if he could hide with Willa, the driver would assume the place was empty and leave.

Brandon wasn’t sure he wanted that to happen. Part of him wanted to confront this SOB who could be responsible for hiring Shore to come after Willa. But if he could avoid a gunfight with Willa around, then that had to be his first option. No bullets meant Willa and the baby would be safe for another day.

Until the next confrontation.

“The red light is on, and the system is armed,” Willa said, coming back into the room. “What do we do now?”

It was risky to stay inside because the person could try to blow up the house. But it would be an even bigger risk to go outside.

Brandon considered the garage. They could get in the car and wait as they had at the safe house. But that wasn’t without risks, either, especially since he would have to disarm the security system for them to go through the mudroom door and into the garage. Plus, there was a door at the back of the garage that led to the yard. He was certain he had locked it, but locks could be easily broken.

“For now, we’ll wait here, inside,” he whispered.

Brandon moved Willa to the side of the fridge and positioned himself in front of her. They were now out of range of the window, but he could see the back door, and if he peered around the fridge, he could see the front one as well. Thankfully, with the exception of the exterior garage, all the doors and windows were wired with the security system so it should go off if someone tried to break in.

If that happened, they would have to go with Plan B.

He would try to get Willa to the garage so he could take down this person who was hell-bent on trying to kill them.

Behind him, he could hear Willa’s shallow breathing, but that, the sleet and the hum of the fridge were the only sounds in the room. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t hard for him to hear the car door. It was slight, as if someone was trying to ease it shut, but Brandon still heard it.

He braced himself for whatever was going to happen next. At best, the person might just leave or there’d be a knock at the door. Maybe it was someone lost and having car trouble.

But Brandon didn’t think this was an “at best” kind of situation.

The seconds crawled by, and Brandon continued to wait. There were no more sounds of car doors. Not even any footsteps.

Still, he didn’t relax.

Good thing, too.

The sound of the shot blasted through the house.

WILLA CHOKED BACK A GASP and took aim in case she had to return fire. But Brandon obviously didn’t want her to do that because he pushed her even farther back so that she was against the wall.

With him in front of her.

Protecting her, again.

How many more times was he going to have to put himself in danger like this?

If she hadn’t been pregnant, if she had only herself to worry about, Willa would have considered making her own stand. She was exhausted and spent from these attacks, and one way or another, she just wanted them to be over. But she couldn’t just step out from cover. She had to think of her baby girl.

Brandon took his cell from his pocket and passed it back to her. “Call Pete. His is the first number.”

Though her hands were shaking and she was trying to keep a firm hold on the gun, Willa made it to his list of recent calls and pressed the call button. She held her breath and waited for Pete to answer. She also waited for another sound from their attacker.

But nothing.

Not from their attacker. Nor from Pete. He didn’t answer the call, and it went to voice mail.

“Pete didn’t answer,” she whispered, automatically moving on to Sheila’s number who was next on the phone list. Willa tried it as well, but there wasn’t an answer from Sheila, either.

Something was wrong. Even though it was Christmas Eve, one of them should have answered.

And why hadn’t the dogs barked? As frightened as Willa was of them, she wished the Dobermans were there to protect them. They’d need all the help they could get.

“Sheila didn’t answer?” Brandon asked, his voice barely audible.

“No. Should I try anyone else?” But as she was asking, she looked at the list of names and numbers. Since this was his prepaid cell, it obviously didn’t include his normal list of contacts. With the exception of Cash, there wasn’t anyone else, and they obviously couldn’t call him.

Or anyone else in SAPD.

There was another shot and, while Willa had thought she was prepared to hear it, the sound still sent a stab of fear through her. Still, she wouldn’t let that fear immobilize her. She had a gun, and even though she wasn’t sure she knew how to use it, that wouldn’t stop her.

“He’s shooting at the lock on the front door,” Brandon mumbled.

So that explained why there’d been no sound of breaking glass. And there were no indications of the door opening, either. That was something at least. The person hadn’t actually managed to get inside.

So, who was out there?

Cash, maybe. Or Wes, Dr. Farris or even Dean. All of them had motive to keep her silent, and it was entirely possible that one or more of them had teamed up against Brandon and her. All four of them potentially had a lot to lose if she ended up testifying about what had gone on in that lab the day of the hostage incident.

Of course, she had to stay alive to be able to testify.

“Call nine-one-one,” he instructed. “Ask for help from the county sheriff’s office over in Saddle Springs.”

God knows how far away that was, but they needed some kind of backup. She quickly pressed in the numbers, and the dispatcher answered on the first ring.

“I’m Willa Marks,” she told the dispatcher. And then she realized she didn’t have the address. “I’m at Sheriff Brandon Ruiz’s residence near Crockett Creek, and we have an intruder. Send someone immediately.”

Since she didn’t want her voice to give away her location to the person trying to break in, Willa didn’t hang up, but she didn’t say anything else.

There was another shot, and this one was different from the other two. It sounded as if the bullet had smacked against something metal.

Maybe the lock? Or maybe it was just the brass doorknob.

The emergency dispatcher continued to talk, asking Willa for details about what was going on. Because the questions were coming from the other end of the line, they weren’t loud. But they could still be heard. Willa closed the phone and hoped the dispatcher wouldn’t have any trouble relaying the request for immediate help.

Willa heard the sound then. A slight creaking noise. She thought it might have come from the hinges on the door, but she prayed she was wrong.

But she wasn’t.

Seconds later, she felt the cold winter air slice through the kitchen. Oh, God.

Someone had opened the front door.

Chapter Sixteen

Brandon didn’t take the time to curse himself for staying too long at his house. But he would do that later. Right now though, he apparently had a fight on his hands.

He eased a fraction away from the fridge so he could get a better look at the front door.

It was open.

He didn’t see an intruder and didn’t hear footsteps so that could mean the person was lurking on the porch. Bullets could easily come through the window and make their way to Willa and the baby.

Who was out there?

Who was doing this to them?

Brandon desperately wanted to know, but he didn’t want that knowledge at Willa’s expense. Nor did he want to start a gun battle. Right now, his best bet was to wait. To listen. And to try to get off the shot that would put an end to this.

He glanced back at Willa to make sure she was okay. She looked scared but determined, and she still had hold of the gun she’d taken from the top of the fridge. Good. Because he might need her help.

Finally, he heard the footsteps. It was hard to tell because of the wind howling, but he was pretty sure the intruder was still on the porch. For now, anyway. Those footsteps seemed to be leading straight into the house.

Brandon got ready, and took aim at the front door. He wouldn’t have but a split second to identify the person and then shoot, and he couldn’t risk not getting off the first shot.

He heard another step. Then, another. But he also heard something else.

A car engine.

He tried turning his ear to the sound, but he couldn’t figure out if it was coming from the intruder’s vehicle or if someone else had just driven up.

Hell.

He hoped this SOB hadn’t brought an accomplice.

Brandon spotted the movement in the doorway, and his finger tightened just slightly on the trigger. He was ready. Too ready. Every muscle and nerve in his body was primed for the fight, but the intruder didn’t show his face. He stayed there, in the shadows.

Waiting for Brandon to make the first move.

That wouldn’t happen. He had Willa in a protected position right now, and he wasn’t going to change that unless it was absolutely necessary.

The seconds ticked off again, but there were no more footsteps. No sounds of a car engine, either. Just the brutal wind and the central heating that had kicked in.

Brandon definitely felt the chill in the air, and behind him, Willa started to shake. Her teeth weren’t chattering, yet, but it was close. It hadn’t taken but a couple of minutes for the inside temperature to plunge, and with the front door wide open, there was no way the heat could neutralize all that cold air gushing in.

Of course, the intruder was out in the cold, too, and Brandon hoped like the devil that it affected the person’s aim and judgment.

There was no movement. No warning. Definitely no footsteps. And even though Brandon was ready for an attack, the sound still surprised him.

A bullet came through the living room window.

The sound blasted through the entire house. So did the shattering glass. The bullet slammed into the kitchen wall by the sink. Not exactly close to Willa and him. A good six feet away. But it was close enough for Brandon to know he had to return fire.

He came out from cover and sent a shot right back through the front window.

Brandon didn’t stay in the open. He couldn’t. He had to move back into place so that he would be in front of Willa. And once he was there, he waited, praying he’d managed to shoot the intruder.

But there was no indication of that.

Definitely no moan of pain. No body dropping to the porch.

Several seconds later, another shot came roaring into the kitchen. There was no six feet of space this time. The shot came damn close to the fridge.

The third shot came even closer.

“Stay down,” he whispered to Willa. Brandon didn’t leave cover, but he sent two shots of his own right back at their attacker.

Glass spewed from what was left of the window, but that didn’t slow the assault. More bullets came, each of them tearing through his house and coming right at them.

Brandon had no choice but to pull Willa to the floor.

The new position took him out of firing range since there was furniture in between his line of sight and the window. But that same furniture was in the way of the shooter as well. Brandon hoped it would be enough to keep Willa safe.

More bullets came. Four of them. Each were thick blasts that rocketed his adrenaline and put him in fight-or-flight mode. Unfortunately, he needed to take the flight option because of Willa. This person obviously wasn’t going to come out in the open so that Brandon would have a clean shot, and this guy wasn’t worried about running out of ammunition.

Brandon was.

He couldn’t go bullet for bullet in this fight.

“Stay low on the floor,” he whispered to Willa. “We’re going to the garage.”

Yes, it was a risk, but at this point, staying put seemed the biggest risk of all.

Brandon kept himself positioned in front of her, and Willa crawled to the other side of the fridge. He fired another bullet at their attacker and hoped the single shot would buy them a few seconds of time.

It worked.

The person didn’t fire any other shots until Willa was near the mudroom door that led out to the garage. Brandon wasn’t quite so lucky though. The shot came right at him, and even though he was low on the floor as well, the bullet sliced through the sleeve of his jacket. Well, hopefully it was just the sleeve. He didn’t have time to look and see if the bullet had grazed him.

He hurried, trying to get Willa away from the kitchen window. Even though the attacker would have to run from the porch to that particular part of the kitchen, Brandon didn’t want to wait around for another attack. He got Willa to her feet and opened the mudroom door so he could get her into the garage.

“What now?” she asked. She was still shivering, and Brandon prayed this stress and all the running around weren’t harming the baby.

He glanced at the car and knew he had left the keys in the ignition. He could try to drive them out of there, but since the shooter was out front, that would almost certainly put them right back in the line of fire.

Plus, there was the possibility of a second vehicle. An accomplice who might be blocking the road to prevent them from getting away.

“We’re going out back,” Brandon whispered.

He tipped his head to the rear door that led into the backyard. Beyond that was a small barn and then the thick woods that made a semicircle around his property. If worse came to worst, there were plenty of hiding places in those woods. However, it would put Willa out there in the freezing night. Thank God she had on her coat, but that probably wouldn’t be enough eventually.

No. He had to end this soon.

With his gun still drawn, Brandon unlocked and eased open the door. He peeked out but didn’t see any signs of the shooter. He didn’t want to wait to give the person time to get around the house, either. Or time to get to Willa and him. It was a good twenty feet to the barn, and the woods were another twenty feet or more beyond that.