Chapter Eighteen
The gunshot split the air, and Cal didn’t think, he just reacted. He slung his arm around Melissa and dragged her hard toward the pile of rocks at the edge of the clearing. She fought him for half a second, but survival took over and she went down with him.
He snapped his gaze to Alena. She was moving his way, fast, but another shot cracked and slammed into the dirt right next to her boot. Cal’s stomach clenched. That had been too damn close.
“Alena!” he shouted, but she was already pivoting. Instead of making a run for him, she dove behind the back corner of the cabin, the closest cover she could reach. It wasn’t enough.
Too much open ground around her.
Whoever was out there had them pinned, and if they didn’t get control fast, Alena was a sitting target.
Cal checked fast, scanning the chaos. Raines was crouched low behind the front end of his cruiser, the metal shielding him. Good. At least the vehicle was bullet-resistant.
Arneson wasn’t nearly as smart. He was sprawled on the ground with nothing between him and the shots. Cal’s gut twisted. If this was Dexter firing on them, Arneson probably didn’t have to worry. But what if it wasn’t Dexter?
He yanked Melissa closer, his voice sharp. “Could this be one of the men you hired to take you?”
Her head jerked toward him, eyes wide. “No. It can’t be.”
“Melissa.” His tone left no room for games.
She flinched, then swallowed hard. “All right. Maybe. The two of them wanted more money. I didn’t pay. Keller’s dead, but Salvetti… it could be him. If he thinks he can scare me into giving him cash…”
Cal’s blood boiled. Rage cut through the adrenaline. She’d lied. Lied about this, about the danger shadowing all of them.
“You should’ve told us,” he snapped, his voice low and lethal. “We could’ve handled it. Now you’ve put every damn one of us in the crosshairs.”
The crack of another bullet against stone punctuated his fury.
More shots cracked, each one chewing into the ground and bark near Alena. Cal’s chest tightened. She was hunkered down, making herself small, but she had nowhere to move. Sitting duck.
He shifted, tracking the angle. The shots weren’t coming from the trees around the cabin. No, the sound carried sharper, flatter, from across the creek—the same direction Dexter had used to make his escape before.
His stomach turned hard as stone.
“Stay put,” he growled at Melissa. She started to argue, but Cal was already moving. He rolled out from behind the rocks, brought up his gun, and squeezed off two shots toward the flash of muzzle fire across the creek.
The echo thundered through the night, and Cal’s pulse thundered with it. He had no idea if he’d clipped the bastard, but at least he’d shifted the fire away from Alena—for now.
Another volley of shots ripped through the clearing, but the sound was wrong. Too spread out. Cal froze for a split second, listening past the echo.
Two shooters.
One across the creek where Dexter had slipped away before. The other up by the road to the left. Hell. They were boxed in.
Beside him, Melissa cursed and started scrambling up. “I can take him. I can shoot Dexter—”
“The hell you can,” Cal snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut. She’d get herself killed, and worse, her wild fire could put Alena or him in the line of a bullet.
Before she could rise higher, Cal grabbed her wrist, wrenched the gun from her hand, and shoved it into the back of his jeans. “Stay down, Melissa,” he barked, pinning her with a look that brooked no argument. “You move again, and you’ll get us all killed.”
Fury pounded through him, thick and hot. Melissa had put Alena in danger, dragged them all into this mess, and now she was making it worse.
Bullets spat dirt close enough that shards stung his face. Cal lowered his head, eyes narrowing. He had to find a way to shift this fight before it ended with Alena bleeding out.
“Alena,” Cal called low, just enough for her to hear him. “Keep an eye on the gunman by the road.”
He wanted to tell Raines, too, but that would mean shouting, and shouting would mean drawing attention to Alena’s position. Not happening.
Cal waited, muscles taut, until he saw her shifting into place, edging around until she had a line of sight on the road. Relief flickered, brief and thin, before he turned back to his own side of the fight.
He eased out from cover, sighting toward the creek. The muzzle flashes had come from about thirty yards across. Not far, not really. A straight shot for his Glock under normal circumstances.
Except he couldn’t see the son of a bitch. Not even a shadow. Whoever it was, they were dug in good, firing and hiding like a pro.
Cal ground his teeth. He’d have to take the chance, fire blind, and pray he didn’t hit some unlucky hunter or hiker who just happened to be out there. His finger tightened on the trigger, adrenaline burning through every vein.
He leaned out, finger tight on the trigger, but before he could fire, a barrage of gunfire erupted from the road.
Bullets smacked stone and dirt all around him, forcing him back behind cover.
The bastard up there was laying it down thick, doing everything he could to keep Cal from sighting across the creek.
Pinned, Cal turned his head. The moonlight was just enough for him to catch Alena’s eyes. He didn’t say a word, didn’t dare, but she read him anyway.
She pivoted smoothly, shifting her aim away from the road. Her gun came up steady, dark steel gleaming faintly in the pale light, and she leveled it at the creek.
One shot cracked through the chaos.
Cal’s pulse jumped at the sound that followed—the unmistakable thud of a bullet hitting flesh and a strangled cry cutting the night.
One down. One to go.
But Cal’s gut twisted. Was it Dexter she’d hit, or just wounded? Or maybe it wasn’t him at all. There was no way to tell across the creek, not yet.
The shooter on the road shifted fire, and the crack of rounds tore the air in Alena’s direction. She dove low, scrambling behind the thin cover of a cedar trunk, bark splintering inches from her. Cal’s heart slammed hard enough to choke him.
From the ground, Arneson lifted his head, voice raw and desperate. “Dexter! If you’re the one doing this, you need to stop! This has to stop now!”
The plea went unanswered, swallowed by more gunfire. Every round still poured toward Alena. She was the target, and Cal knew it wouldn’t be long before one of those bullets found her.
His jaw locked. He couldn’t let that happen.
Raines opened up from his cover, shots cracking through the night.
Cal listened hard, the pattern telling him everything.
Raines was keeping his rounds high, snapping bark off the trees above the shooter.
He wasn’t trying to hit. He was trying not to kill some poor driver who might roll past on the road at the wrong time.
Cal shifted, heart hammering, and found Alena’s gaze. Moonlight lit her face just enough for him to see the determination there. Then she tipped her head, just slightly, toward the other side of the cabin.
His stomach sank. He knew exactly what she had in mind.
“No,” he mouthed, but it was too late. She pivoted and scrambled low, darting behind the far side of the cabin before another round could pin her in place.
Cal’s hands clenched around his Glock. He knew her plan. She was going to circle around, get up to the road, and take the fight to the shooter herself.
But that meant she could end up face-to-face with Dexter. Alone.
The thought twisted like a blade in his gut.
Cal watched Melissa sob, watched the way her shoulders shook as she begged him to use her as bait. The sound made his gut twist.
“No,” he said, flat. He wasn’t handing her off to die. Not for anything.
He kept watching the tree line, the creek, the road. Logic ran quick in his head even with the panic punching at his ribs. Dexter wasn’t just hunting Melissa. He wanted Alena and him dead. That fact, ugly as it was, gave Cal an idea.
Cal pushed himself up to a crouch, heart slamming so hard he felt it in his throat. He could see Alena’s silhouette across the road in front of the cabin. For a second panic clawed at him, raw and immediate, but he shoved it down. He would draw fire if he had to.
He leaned out enough to make himself visible, raised his voice, and shouted, “Dexter!” The name tore out of him rough and loud. He let the sound hang in the trees, a deliberate dare.
Maybe it was the right move. Maybe it was the wrong one. He had no idea if the man across the road was Dexter or just one of his hired guns. Keller had paid muscle before and they could be anywhere. He swallowed, grit in his mouth, and called again, louder this time.
“Remember the warehouse, Dexter?” Cal taunted. “You never did get me. You tried but you failed.”
He expected an answer. He expected silence. What came was the rat-a-tat of gunfire, louder and angrier, but the tempo shifted. The shots slowed, lost some of their rhythm, as if the shooter was hesitating, deciding whether to take the bait. They didn’t stop.
Melissa’s words cut through the air like a knife. “He’ll kill Alena if he gets the chance.”
Before Cal could snap back, before he could stop her, she bolted upright. “Melissa, no!”
But she was already screaming at the top of her lungs, breaking cover, darting into the open. Cal’s gut clenched. He lunged forward, cursing, but she was too far gone. The shooter’s attention snapped to her instantly, and the staccato blast of gunfire split the night.
The first shot caught her midstride, spinning her off balance. She crumpled, tumbling down the slope of a small hill. Cal’s heart jammed into his throat as she rolled, finally landing hard against the rocky bank of the creek.
She was alive. He saw her move, heard a broken sound tear out of her, but it wouldn’t last. Not with blood soaking her shirt and another round waiting to finish her off. Cal knew it. If he didn’t act fast, Melissa’s time was running out.
Melissa’s voice shook, raw with fury and fear. “He’ll kill all of us.”
Then another voice cut through the night. “Melissa.”
Cal froze, every muscle snapping tight. That voice. Taunting, smug. Dexter.
The bastard was alive.
“You did this,” Dexter called, his words sharp and vicious. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have rotted in that hellhole. You cost me everything.”
Melissa, bloodied and struggling, lifted her head. She was in pain, but her defiance burned hot. “Fuck you,” she shouted, her voice breaking. “You’re nothing but a pathetic, weak excuse for a man. Rotting in prison is too good for you.”
The woods went still for a breath. Then Dexter roared back, his anger rattling through the trees. “You think you’re safe? You think you’ll live through tonight?”
Before Cal could move, Arneson’s voice tore into the chaos. “Dexter! Enough! Surrender now, before this goes any further.”
Cal gritted his teeth, pulse hammering. He knew Dexter wouldn’t surrender. This was the start of something worse.
Then, Cal spotted her in the shadows. Alena was across the road, close to the trees, her gun steady as she moved toward the cabin. She was heading straight for him. Straight for Dexter.
There was more movement. A flash of that familiar figure slipping out from cover, shifting toward her.
Dexter.
Cal’s gut twisted. He didn’t hesitate. He shoved to his feet, raised his weapon, and sighted down on the bastard. His finger squeezed the trigger at the same instant he heard the crack of Alena’s gun. Raines’s shot followed a heartbeat later.
The blasts echoed together, a deafening chorus in the night.
Dexter staggered. His mouth opened in what looked like a sneer, but no words came out. Blood sprayed across his chest as he dropped, hitting the dirt with a final, heavy thud.
Dexter was dead.