“Yes, sir.”
When Dante was halfway down the landing, a shot rang out from a part of the kitchen below where David was crouched.
A scream came from the hallway behind Dante. Oh God. Laurie was out of the safe room.
The bullet grazed Dante’s arm, as he instinctively covered his head and pitched to the side. He cried out as searing hot pain tore at his flesh.
David returned fire, but missed.
The gunman fired back at him.
David tried to move back to the wall, but it was too late. The shot caught him in the neck. He fell to the floor.
Laurie screamed again and rushed forward.
Dante returned fire, hitting the gunman right between the eyes.
Blinded by rage and pain, Dante lunged for Laurie.
She leaned over David, clutching at the front of his shirt. She was already half-way to sobbing.
Dante’s wounded arm sent searing hot waves of pain up his shoulder as he grabbed Laurie by both her arms and hauled her back down the hallway. With a look of absolute fury, he shoved her into the safe room.
Dante swept his gun and his gaze over the hallway. He strained his ears for every sound. He heard David gasping for breath, and that caused Dante to pray as he crouched low beside him.
David’s shocked eyes stared up at him. His hot, sticky blood poured out, pooling on the carpet.
“Stay with me, David. Just stay with me. The medical team’s on the way.”
David made an inaudible rasping noise. Tears welled in his eyes. David’s eyes pleaded with Dante to do something.
Dante tore off his shirt. As he pressed the waded up shirt to David’s wound, Dante saw David’s eyes go blank. They stared up at him, emotionless, vacant.
“David! David!” He tugged at the man’s shirt.
David didn’t move. His blank eyes stared back at Dante.
Dante swore. He pounded his fist on the floor, which sent shock waves up his injured arm. But pain was good. It kept away the mind-numbing grief that threatened to close in. The pain made Dante crawl away from David toward the stairs.
He went corner to corner down the stairs with long sweeps of his gun. He checked on Max, who was bleeding from the abdomen.
Max was trying to stop the bleeding, so Dante ran to the supply closet for the first aid equipment. He tore off several strips of gauze and gave it to Max to press to his wound.
Then Dante checked the two assailants in the living room. Both of them were dead. He moved into the kitchen and checked Cheyn’s vitals. He was still alive, though unconscious. He had been hit in the arm, but the gunshot had knocked him back and he’d hit his head on the counter. The gunmen must have thought he was dead. Dante said a silent prayer, then checked on the gunmen. They were both lifeless.
Dante closed doors, locking them. He went back upstairs. He washed Max and David’s blood off his hands. Then he pulled a fresh shirt from his duffle bag. He washed and bandaged his own wound, bleeding freely from his bicep. He was relieved when he saw the bullet just grazed him, instead of lodging in his flesh. He couldn’t go in for surgery and protect his witness at the same time.
His witness, the foolish woman in the safe room that had twice now defied his orders. The woman was going to get them both killed.
With his arm tended to as well as he could, he grabbed his bag, and Laurie’s bag, taking them downstairs. He knew it was cruel to make her wait, but she had earned it. He couldn’t let her out until back up arrived. If another attack came, they would think she fled the house.
After he set down the bags, he tended to Max. Dante heard sirens and a helicopter. They were here. He squeezed Max’s shoulder as the young man struggled to remain conscious. Several police cars pulled up. Dante ran to open the front door.
The police came through the door to find the dead body of an assailant, and Dante standing there, hands in the air above his head. He had on his Marshals vest to send a clear message.
“I’m U.S. Marshal Dante Stark. Is Lt. Jameson with you?”
Dante knew all of the local lieutenants. He knew Jameson would be on the night shift. The lieutenant pushed his way to the front of the group of officers.
“Jesus Christ, Dante! What happened?” Lt. Jameson gestured to the fallen men.
“We were attacked. A four-member hit team. I have two men down and one agent dead. All assailants are dead. I need the medic in here now.”
“You need the medic yourself!” Lt. Jameson pointed to his bandage. “Secure the rooms, gentleman. Get the medic and get them in here!”
Dante looked down to see his makeshift bandage sopping with blood.
“Scratch,” he muttered. “Dick, my witness is in the safe room. I need to get her out of here to a secure location.”
“All right. We’ll get you outta here. But I’m going to need your gun for the crime lab.”
“Fine. I have a backup.” He handed over his gun to Lt. Jameson, who bagged it. “I need the black SUV swept for explosives or other assailants. I have to get the witness out of here.”
“Not a problem. I’ll sweep it myself. Give the detective here a rundown of what happened.”
Dante took them room by room, as the medic rushed Max out to the waiting helicopter, and then came back for Cheyn. Dante felt numb as they rolled Cheyn out onto the patio in the gurney to the medevac waiting in the field behind the house.
“He should be fine, Mr. Stark.” The paramedic tapped his clipboard. “He was knocked in the head pretty good by the fall, but his vitals are good. We’ll run an MRI and a CT scan, but he’ll be just fine. The other guy—Max—lost a lot of blood. They’ll both need surgery.”
“Hilo Medical Center?” Dante nodded to him.
“Yes, sir.” The paramedic sped by him.
“Good. I’ll notify our supervisor.” He clenched his jaw as the paramedic ran out into the field and jumped in the helicopter. His team was shattered.
“Dante, the vehicle’s as clean as a whistle. I’m clearing you to leave with the witness. But I’m going to need to follow-up with you.” Lt. Jameson patted him on his good shoulder.
“You have my number. Do me a favor and call Rick. Tell him what happened and that I’m taking the witness to another safe house. I’m going to have a hard time getting her out of here,” Dante told him as he took the bags out to the waiting SUV. Lt. Jameson had stationed officers around each side.
“Certainly, certainly. She must be scared out of her mind. Does she know the one man died?” he opened the side door for Dante.
“Yes. She doesn’t follow orders very well.” Dante tossed in the bags, turned on his heel and walked back toward the house.
He jogged as he went into the house and up to the safe room. He was anxious to get to Laurie now. His head was still spinning, but he needed to make sure she was okay. He also knew he needed to get on the road. A four-man hit on a well-protected safe house was an unprecedented attack. He didn’t need a repeat.
He walked up to the hidden safe room door. He knocked on the shelf and yelled.
“Laurie, it’s me. I’m opening the door.”
He slid the door to the side.
Laurie launched herself into his arms.
“Dante!”
She wrapped her arms around him.
He wrapped his arms around her in return. As angry as he was at her, her touch was exactly what he needed.
Tears were streaming down her face, and she shook like a palm tree in a hurricane. Her breath came in short gasps, almost on the verge of hyperventilating. Now he felt like a beast for making her wait in there, alone and unarmed, after what she had seen. The guilt was sharp as it wrenched in his chest.
“Are you all right?” He knew the officers on the landing were staring, but he didn’t care. He cupped her face in his hands and touched his forehead to hers.
“Breathe,” he said.
He coached her through a few breaths, until her trembling ceased. He felt the pulse at her neck return to normal. Her eyelids, heavy with teardrops, fluttered open.
“I’m sorry.” She stared up at him with her watery blue eyes. “I just wanted to help.”