Chapter Seven
───── ? ────
The blast hit Colt like a punch to the chest.
He dropped to one knee, shielding Brenna and Naomi with his body as rocks and debris rained down around them.
The explosion had come from the side of the bridge, about twenty feet away, and though it wasn’t a massive detonation, it was enough to shake the ground and send up a thick spray of dust and splintered rock.
Naomi screamed. Brenna swore.
Colt’s ears rang as he lifted his head and scanned for the source. Smoke curled up from the brush near the bridge’s edge. But he saw no signs of who’d set off the blast. No signs of Wallace either.
Behind them, Harlan moved, and he had his weapon drawn. Gary was right behind him, his face pale and tight with panic.
“Everyone okay?” Harlan called, eyes on Colt.
“Yeah,” Colt said. “For now.”
Before anyone could say more, another explosion hit. This one came from the opposite side of the bridge, directly across from the first. The ground trembled again.
“Fuck this shit,” Gary shouted and bolted toward the trees.
“Damn it,” Harlan growled, already turning to chase him.
He had taken only two steps when gunfire cracked through the air.
Hell. First explosions and now shots. Yeah, this was definitely an ambush, and someone was being thorough.
Brenna dove for cover, dragging Naomi with her. Harlan dropped down and scrambled behind a scraggly oak. Colt spun toward the sound, rifle up, scanning the tree line. But he still didn’t see anyone.
Naomi let out a strangled cry and tried to run, scrambling to her feet like she could somehow outrun the gunfire.
“No,” Brenna snapped, grabbing her arm and yanking her back down behind the concrete barrier.
Naomi struggled, but Brenna held tight.
“Check her for weapons,” Colt ordered, crouched low with his rifle braced against his shoulder. “Now.”
Brenna didn’t argue. She shoved Naomi onto her side and patted her down quickly but thoroughly. Colt kept his eyes trained on the tree line, watching for muzzle flashes. The shots were wild, out of control, and coming from more than one direction.
“She’s clean,” Brenna called over the gunfire, keeping her body low. “No gun, no knife. Just a phone.”
Naomi whimpered, curling in on herself. Colt didn’t relax.
“Keep your eyes on her anyway,” he said. “If she’s behind this, she could still be signaling someone.”
More bullets slammed into the metal railing behind them, sparking as they ricocheted off.
“Who the hell is shooting at us?” Brenna hissed.
Colt narrowed his eyes at the thick stand of trees across the bridge. “Someone who knows how to herd targets.”
And right now, they were the targets.
“Any sign of Gary?” Colt shouted toward the SUV, his voice sharp over the echo of gunfire.
“No,” Harlan called back. “He disappeared.”
Colt gritted his teeth, tracking the direction Gary had gone. His pulse was still hammering, every nerve on alert. Damn it. Was Gary behind this? Or was he being played just like the rest of them?
Then he saw it. A thin stream of smoke rising from the woods to the left of the bridge. It wasn’t thick or fast-moving. More like the steady curl of a campfire. Too contained for a brush blaze.
Shit. There might not be a shooter after all. But that didn’t mean they weren’t in danger.
“Look at the smoke,” Colt called out to Brenna and Harlan. “Over there, past the second tree line.”
Brenna followed his line of sight. “I see it.”
“That’s not from a weapon being fired,” Colt said. “That’s from a fire. I think someone threw loose rounds into it.”
“Cooked off ammo,” Brenna supplied.
Colt gave a tight nod, eyes still on the thin thread of smoke. The shots would stop eventually. Once all the rounds were spent and the fire had finished its work, the chaos would fade. No one was aiming at them. Not at the moment anyway.
They just had to wait it out. Hope none of those stray bullets found a target. That included Wallace, if he was still out here. And if he was truly a victim.
Colt wasn’t sure anymore.
Not about Wallace. Not about Naomi. Not about Gary.
One of them could be the reason two people were already dead. Or maybe it was someone else entirely.
Either way, he planned to find out. And soon.
The shots tapered off, each one farther apart than the last until finally, silence crept in like fog. Still, Colt did not move. He kept his body low and his rifle ready. The minutes dragged. Sweat trickled down his spine beneath the body armor, but he ignored it.
He wanted to be sure. Absolutely sure.
“Someone’s down there,” Naomi blurted.
Colt’s gaze cut to her. “Where?”
The woman pointed with a trembling hand. “By the creek. Just beyond that big rock.”
Colt followed her line of sight and narrowed his eyes. In the shadows at the bank, movement flickered. A figure. Fast. Low. Disappearing behind the tangle of trees before Colt could get a good look.
“Could be Gary,” Colt muttered, uncertain. “Or not.”
Colt waited. The seconds ticked by with nothing but the wind in the trees and the faint groan of the bridge settling under its own weight. No more shots. No more smoke. No more noise. Just the steady drum of his heart in his ears.
Finally, he lifted his head.
The Crossfire SUV sat about thirty feet away, gleaming and exposed in the early morning light. Too far. Too open. But they needed cover, and they needed to move. He made a decision.
“I’m going,” he said. “Stay down. I’ll bring the SUV to you.”
He didn’t wait for objections. He broke from cover and ran low and fast across the uneven ground.
The crack of the gunshot tore through the air.
The impact slammed into his chest like a hammer. White heat exploded through his torso, followed by blistering pain that stole the breath from his lungs. His vest caught the bullet, but the force of it drove him off balance.
Brenna’s voice rang out behind him, panicked. “Colt!”
Harlan cursed. Another shot rang out—this one from Harlan—followed by the echo of gunfire ripping through the trees.
Because he had no choice, Colt dropped hard onto his side and rolled to cover, dirt grinding into his palms.
“Stay down,” Brenna shouted, already scrambling toward him.
He dragged in a shallow breath that scorched like fire.
“I’m good,” he rasped. “Vest caught it. Just knocked the wind out of me.”
Brenna reached him, one hand pressed to his arm, her eyes searching his face. “Damn it, Colt,” she whispered. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He gave a short nod, still struggling to get a full breath. The pain pulsed in his chest, but he was alive. And now they knew for sure.
This time, someone had aimed.
“Harlan,” Colt called, wincing as he shifted into a crouch. “Shooter’s hiding in the trees, near the creek.”
“Colt, you good?” Harlan shouted back.
“He took one to the vest,” Brenna answered, her voice still tight with concern. “It knocked him flat, but he’s breathing.”
“Cover me,” Harlan growled.
Colt saw him break from cover a second later, sprinting toward the SUV.
Another shot rang out, slicing through the air. And this time, the bullet was aimed at Harlan.
Brenna fired back without hesitation. “I’ve got you!” she yelled, aiming in the direction of the creek.
Colt followed her line of fire. He still couldn’t see the shooter, but he knew the bastard was out there, crouched in the shadows, using the trees and brush to his advantage.
The rifle shots from the creek bank stopped as Brenna’s return fire tore through the cover. Colt knew she hadn’t hit the guy, but she’d forced him to hunker down. Good. Colt hoped like hell he stayed that way so he couldn’t try to kill them again.
Harlan reached the SUV, flung open the door, and slid into the driver’s seat.
The SUV engine roared as Harlan sped toward them, tires grinding over gravel and dirt. Colt squinted through the pain in his ribs, watching the vehicle barrel forward, stopping just feet from their cover.
Naomi let out another panicked cry.
“The SUV’s bullet-resistant,” Colt snapped. “Get inside, now.”
Harlan leaned over from the driver’s seat and shoved the back door open. Brenna fired again toward the trees, each shot a warning. Naomi finally, thankfully, moved. She dropped low and scrambled into the back.
“You’re next,” Brenna told Colt, her voice edged with tension.
Colt clenched his jaw. His chest still burned from the impact, and every breath felt like dragging sandpaper through his lungs. But they weren’t out of this yet.
He shifted into a firing stance and raised his weapon toward the creek bank. “Get in,” he said. “Watch Naomi.”
Brenna’s gaze locked with his. Something raw passed between them—emotion, history, a connection they hadn’t shaken. Her jaw tightened.
“You better not get your ass shot off,” she said.
He gave her a strained smile. “Move.”
She went. Crouching low, she dove into the SUV and pulled the door shut behind her.
The front driver’s side door flew open. Harlan leaned out, rifle aimed at the tree line. He fired, giving Colt the opening he needed.
Colt sprinted, lungs screaming, and scrambled into the backseat beside Brenna and a sobbing Naomi.
The second the door slammed shut, Harlan got back in the SUV and gunned the engine.
The SUV tore away from the bridge, tires spitting dirt as they sped into the trees, leaving the gunfire behind.
───── ? ────