“Roger that.” As always, Lifeguard was unflappable.
“Get me a damn sitrep.”
“Mansfield at the guard shack is down.”
Goddamn fuck it to hell. Of course he was—he had to be. Deliveries were common enough, and Mansfield would have recognized the driver as someone who belonged on the premises, which left him vulnerable.
On the feed to the office apartment, he heard Elissa’s soft, rapid breaths. “You’re doing good, Elissa.” To Lifeguard, he was abrupt. “Intel from the drone?”
“Redirecting. Johnson inbound from perimeter on ATV. No response from Laurents.”
He prayed they were only dealing with one UNSUB.
“Jacob?”
Elissa’s soft, frightened voice reached him, going straight to his soul. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.” He would die before breaking his vow. “Stay with me. I need you to take a breath and tell me what you saw—in great detail. Don’t leave out anything even if you think it’s unimportant.” He pressed the key to connect Lifeguard so he could overhear the details she was providing.
“A delivery van arrived, the same one that always comes, and the driver wasn’t carrying any packages.”
“Go on.”
“There was a man behind him, and it looked as if he shoved something into the delivery guy’s back. And I heard a shot. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He’s inside, Jacob.” Her voice caught on a sob.
He disconnected from Lifeguard. “Stay in the apartment unless I tell you otherwise. Promise me? I mean it.”
After she agreed, he reopened the channel to Lifeguard. “You got eyes on the garage apartment?” Minutes seemed to drag on, while in reality, he knew no more than a few seconds had passed.
“She’s clear. All around.”
Jacob pushed out a ragged breath.
“We’ve got drone footage. Laurents is down. Could have been hit by the delivery van.”
“Goddamn it.”
“Unmoving male on the front porch. Replaying front door cam to see if we can get a hit on the person’s image. House camera showing armed male in the kitchen. Woman tied to a chair. Crying. Appears to have red marks on her face.”
Fucking fuck.
Jacob resisted barking orders. He’d seen Lifeguard in action. Even though he was relaying information in a measured tone, he was summing up the situation, entering information in a computer that would summon help, link in others, including Inamorata and Hawkeye. The entire strength of the organization was being harnessed.
Rationally, Jacob knew all that—the primal part of his brain had been activated. Nothing—nothing—was happening fast enough. Rather than following the road, he was making a straight line toward the ranch house, and there were still more than four miles to go. But in this moment, he was completely, terrifyingly useless to Deborah as well as the woman he loved.
“Johnson’s inbound on an ATV. Was doing the outer perimeter check. ETA five minutes.”
Adrenaline compelled Jacob to gun the engine even harder, pushing the tricked-out machine to eighty miles per hour, despite the danger from the uneven terrain.
“Laurents here,” a man broke in, breathing heavily. “On foot. Fucking delivery truck hit me. Vehicle’s useless.”
Thank God he was still alive.
Jacob switched back to the woman he loved, pretending a calm he didn’t feel. “Still there, Elissa?”
“Yes.”
“You’re doing great.”
Lifeguard broke in. “UNSUB is moving through the lower level of the house. Now upstairs, clearing the rooms.”
Life was happening between a series of his heartbeats.
“UNSUB back downstairs. Moving through the living room.”
Time was running out.
“UNSUB out the back patio door. Headed for the garage.”
“Jacob? Someone is calling my name.”
“Don’t respond.” He edged the ATV to eighty-five. “Fuck it to hell.”
“At the garage door.”
“Elissa, I’m going to keep silent so that no one hears us, okay? Help is less than two minutes away.” He’d never been more helpless. “We’ll keep you safe. Hang in there, baby.”
“UNSUB in the garage.”
At least the sonofabitch hadn’t headed straight for the stairs, and that bought him a few more precious seconds.
“Back outside.”
“I hear footsteps, Jacob.”
“A minute, minute and a half, baby. I’m right here.” Jacob focused on his destination, calculating his response. The assailant likely had no interest in killing Elissa. She was a better weapon against Hawkeye if she was alive. But harming her? That was a possibility. But not on his watch. Not ever fucking again. “When Johnson arrives, I want her to disable the van and my truck. I don’t want him to be able to escape with Elissa.”
“Roger that.”
“Jacob!” Her whisper was frantic and breathless. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Sixty seconds, Elissa. Stay calm for one more minute. Don’t say anything more. But I’ll stay on the line. I’m here with you.”
The ensuing silence was more awful than anything he could imagine.
“UNSUB outside the apartment door.”
Knowing he was now close enough to be picked up on Lifeguard’s video, Jacob clipped his phone back into place.
The moment he neared the garage, he cut the engine, jumping from the ATV before it completely stopped moving.
Fear sharpening his senses, he started to run.
An unholy shriek ripped through the air, followed by a crash and a thud.
Then a shot rang out, echoing in his ears.
Shouting her name, gun palmed, events unfolding in horrific slow motion, Jacob raced up the stairs.
When he arrived at the doorway, he took in the scene. The assailant was lying facedown on the floor, his gun in hand, aimed in Elissa’s direction. Liquid oozed around him, and shards of pottery—some large, some small—were splintered like arrows.
She was huddled in the far corner, her knees upraised, clothing damp, staring straight ahead with blood dripping down one of her arms. His fury spiked. “You okay?”
She nodded, her body trembling.
Instead of going to her like instinct demanded, he focused on his training. He had to secure the scene.
He stepped over the hissing and spitting cat that was somehow in the room and kicked the intruder’s hand hard enough to break his grip on the gun. Uncaring whether or not he’d shattered bone, Jacob flipped the man over. Christ. “Rollins.”
“Fuck off, Walker.” Rollins lunged for Jacob’s gun, and Jacob lashed out with his steel-toe boot, connecting with the man’s jaw.
Jacob’s effort was rewarded with a satisfying crunch.
And he wanted to do so much more. But his priorities were Elissa and Deborah. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking take you out.”
“Like you murdered my little girl?”
He channeled his anger into a cold, calculating strike. “You killed her yourself, you motherfucker, with your swagger and your refusal to call in law enforcement. You waited until it was too late, then blamed everyone else. You deserve to go down. Sins of the father.”