Chapter Nineteen
The rattle of gunfire shredded the night. Bullets slammed into the old school, tearing through wood and plaster, ricocheting off steel beams.
Garrett grabbed Isla and shoved them both behind a column just as Raines, Cal, and the deputy dove for their own cover. Dust and fragments rained down with every impact.
“Harris, get down!” Garrett bellowed, his voice barely carrying over the roar.
He caught a glimpse of Harris diving for the side of the stage, scrambling on his hands and knees before pressing flat against the wall. Good. It wasn’t the best of cover, but he was no longer out in the open.
The shots didn’t follow Harris. Not one. They ripped into the walls, into the air around Garrett and the others. A calculated spray meant to pin them down, to keep them from moving.
Garrett’s gut tightened. Whoever was out there wasn’t here to kill Harris. The crosshairs were on them.
“Can you see the shooter?” Isla’s voice was sharp, tight with frustration. She had her weapon up, ready to return fire if he gave the word.
Garrett shifted, pressing his shoulder against the cracked column, and leaned just far enough to get a look. A flicker of movement across the broken windows of one of the old shops. A man crouched there, rifle braced against the sill, firing in controlled bursts.
Recognition hit like a punch. Garrett’s jaw locked. “It’s Kane,” he shouted over the chaos. “Victor Kane.”
Isla’s eyes narrowed, her grip steady. She didn’t need reminding who that was. The guard dog who had pinned them down outside Harris’s warehouse. The one who had almost gotten them killed.
Kane fired again, the bullets cracking into the concrete near the entryway, deliberately angled to keep Garrett, Isla, and the others pinned but away from Harris’ position inside.
“He’s not letting up,” Garrett muttered, anger cutting through the thrum of adrenaline. “And he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
The rain came harder, a sheet of water slashing through the broken windows and pattering against the cracked floor.
Garrett wiped at his eyes, squinting through the blur, but it was no use.
He didn’t have a clean shot. Kane had chosen his spot well, staying low and tight behind the cover of the ruined shop.
Through the comm, Jackson’s voice cut in, steady but urgent. “I’m out of my vehicle. Circling now. I’ll get behind him and take him out.”
Garrett’s grip tightened on his rifle. “Copy that,” he said, relief cutting through the frustration. If anyone could flank Kane without being seen, it was Jackson.
More gunfire erupted, the rounds cracking against the concrete and spitting chips into the air. Garrett ducked back just in time. Then a sound cut through the storm and the gunfire, sharp and awful.
A grunt. Followed by Raines’ rough curse.
Garrett’s stomach dropped. “Raines,” he barked into the comm. “Talk to me.”
“Shoulder,” the sheriff growled, his breath tight with pain. “Caught a bullet.”
Hell.
Garrett pressed harder against the column, trying to get a glimpse without getting his head blown off. The sheriff was tough, but a shoulder wound could still bleed him out if they didn’t get the upper hand fast.
Gunfire rattled against the concrete again, the storm swallowing the sound in thunder and driving rain. Garrett braced himself tighter against the column, teeth clenched, when Jackson’s voice crackled in over the comm.
“Another vehicle approaching,” Jackson said. “I’m backing off Kane to see who’s coming in.”
Garrett’s gut tightened. “Dammit. What now?”
Before Isla could answer, Harris’ voice carried from inside the school. Raw, desperate. “Who’s doing this? Is it Anais?”
The name hit Garrett like a hard shove. He flicked a look toward Isla, and she looked as stunned as he felt.
“Why would Anais do this?” Garrett shouted back, fighting to keep his voice from carrying too far outside.
“I don’t know,” Harris groaned, his voice breaking with strain. “But she got in touch with me a few hours ago. Said she was my sister.”
The rain hammered harder, the storm growing louder, but Garrett could hear the anguish in Harris’s tone even through the chaos.
Garrett cursed again, anger threading through the frustration already twisting inside him. Anais hadn’t said a damn word about contacting Harris. What else had she kept from them? And was she the one pulling the strings on this ambush? If so, why? Who was she covering for?
He didn’t have time to chase the questions. Headlights cut through the storm and darkness, beams slicing across the crumbling pavement and washing out everything in their glare.
“Stay down,” Jackson ordered through the comm, his voice clipped. “Didn’t get a look at who it is.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened. “Forget the vehicle. Deal with the shooter. We’ll handle whoever just showed up.”
He adjusted his grip on his weapon and glanced at Isla. Her eyes locked with his, steady even with the rain plastering her hair to her face. They didn’t need words. They were about to face another unknown.
A car rolled in and stopped on the road in front of the school, maybe twenty yards out. Headlights cut through the sheets of rain, making it impossible to see who was behind the wheel. Garrett raised his weapon, muscles tight, waiting for a door to open.
Then the gunfire stopped.
For a few seconds, only the storm filled the silence. Garrett’s pulse pounded in his ears, the lull almost worse than the barrage. Then the shots roared back, harder, faster, Kane’s weapon chewing into the walls and ground with renewed fury. Kane wanted them dead.
“Got eyes on Kane,” Jackson’s voice came sharp over the comm. “Lining him up now.”
One clean shot rang out, echoing over the storm.
The gunfire ended.
“Target down,” Jackson confirmed, steady as ever. “Kane’s dead.”
The car engine roared to life, tires spitting water as it shot forward. Headlights blinded Garrett as the vehicle barreled straight at them.
“Move!” Garrett shouted, yanking Isla with him as he raised his gun. He fired into the windshield, glass spiderwebbing under the impact. The car jerked, swerved hard, and slammed into a rusted lamppost that groaned but held.
The driver’s door burst open. Randall Hayes spilled out with a pistol in hand, firing wild as he ducked behind the open door for cover. Sparks flew as bullets tore into the brick.
“Daniel, stay down!” Randall bellowed, his voice carrying through the rain and storm.
From inside the school, Harris’s voice cracked with anger and confusion. “Who the hell are you and why are you doing this?”
Randall made a hoarse sound that was half sob, half curse. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“How the hell was it supposed to be?” Isla snapped, her voice sharp and cutting through the storm.
Randall stayed behind the door, pistol steady, the metal glinting in the headlights’ glow. His voice cracked again when he said, “I took him. I took Daniel all those years ago.”
Garrett’s gut twisted, but before he could respond Harris’s voice cut through from inside the school. “You took me?” His footsteps scuffed closer, his shape edging toward the doorway.
“Stay down, Harris,” Garrett snarled, eyes locked on the young man, willing him not to make himself a target.
“I heard Anais say I’d been abducted as a baby,” Harris shouted, his voice ragged with disbelief. “But I figured Marion did it. Marion Cole.”
Randall let out a bitter laugh, cold and joyless. “Marion was my friend. She kept you safe. I paid her well after I married Leah. She made sure you were looked after since I couldn’t be with you.”
Randall’s voice shook, but Garrett didn’t think it was from remorse.
“I always meant to tell you, Daniel,” Randall went on. “I always meant for you to know I was your father. But the timing was never right. And then Leah… she found out. She was going to ruin everything. I had to silence her. Had to.”
The words dropped like stones, heavy and final. A confession. Murder.
Cal eased forward from the shadows, but Randall caught the movement and snapped off a shot. The crack echoed through the hollow street. Cal dove behind a crumbling wall, splinters of brick raining around him.
“Quit shooting,” Garrett barked, his own weapon steady on Randall. “You fire like that, you’ll hit your own son.”
The word son seemed to shake Harris. He edged closer to the doorframe, his face pale in the storm light. “Are you really my father?”
Randall groaned, his shoulders sagging as though the truth weighed on him. For a fleeting second, Garrett thought he might lower the gun, surrender.
But the moment vanished. Randall lunged back into the car, and despite the damage, the engine screamed to life. Tires spun on wet pavement as the car fishtailed, then surged forward straight at Garrett and Isla.
“Move!” Garrett grabbed Isla, shoving them both clear as bullets cracked from their guns, shattering more glass, sparking off metal. The car kept coming, relentless, its headlights glaring like eyes of a predator.
Garrett planted his feet, braced against the recoil, and squeezed the trigger. The shot punched through the windshield. The car lurched sideways and slammed into the stone wall of the school with a grinding crash that shook the ground.
For a heartbeat, there was only the hiss of the engine and the groan of twisting metal. Then Garrett was moving, sprinting toward the wreck. Cal and Isla were right beside him, weapons raised, ready for whatever came next.
Garrett reached the door first. He yanked it open and was met with the stench of smoke and gasoline. Randall slumped behind the wheel, blood blooming across his chest. But his hand was steady enough to lift the gun still clenched in his grip.
“Don’t,” Garrett growled. He slapped the weapon away, sending it clattering to the ground. Randall cursed and lunged sideways, fumbling for the glove box. Garrett didn’t need to guess what was in there. Another gun, another chance to kill.
“Not happening.” Garrett hauled him out by the collar, dragging him across the wet pavement. Randall fought weakly, breath rattling in his chest, but the madness in his eyes hadn’t dimmed.
Garrett shoved him down, pressing him against the ground. “You’re done.”
Randall twisted under Garrett’s grip, blood slick against Garrett’s hands. He bucked once, twice, as if he still thought he could fight his way out of this. Then he stilled, his gaze snagging on the figure stepping out of the school.
Harris.
His face was a storm of rage and grief. His voice broke with fury. “This is my father?”
Garrett’s chest tightened, but before he could say a word, Harris bent and snatched up the pistol Randall had dropped. He leveled it at the man sprawled beneath Garrett’s weight. His hands shook, but his aim was true.
“You stole my life,” Harris said, his voice raw. “You lied to me. You killed to cover it up. I heard you say it. You killed someone, and you tried to kill them tonight.”
Randall didn’t fight back. He didn’t beg. His breath came ragged, but his eyes stayed fixed on his son. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry I killed Leah. Sorry I took your mother from you.”
The words hit like a hammer. Harris’s face went pale, trembling with the force of everything crashing down on him. His finger whitened on the trigger.
“My mother?” Harris spat out. “You killed my mother?”
Garrett’s gut clenched. One twitch and this would end in blood.
“Daniel.” Isla’s voice cut through the storm. Calm. Steady. She stepped close, her hands raised, her eyes never leaving his. “Don’t let him take more from you than he already has. Put the gun down.”
Harris’s chest heaved. His knuckles trembled. For a long moment Garrett thought he’d pull the trigger anyway.
Then, slowly, Isla eased the pistol from his grip. She slipped it free, set it aside, and drew in close enough to murmur to him. “It’s over.”