The guy with the mustache was farthest from the cabin, probably the easiest target. Bran would take him out first. Reese moved into position behind him, heard his brother’s muted shot echo softly through the bayou, and the man went down.
Reese hurried toward him. He was still awake but groggy, his eyes slowly closing as he lost consciousness. After hauling him into the bushes out of sight, satisfied he was no longer a threat, Reese headed for the guy smoking in the shadows next to the Jeep.
A muffled shot sounded from high in the trees. The dart took the stocky man in the side of the neck. A hissing sound came from his throat, the guy pawed at the dart, then slid soundlessly to the ground.
Reese stepped out of the foliage, grabbed the man’s limp arms, and dragged him out of sight behind the Jeep.
One to go.
The radio crackled to life. Reese tensed when Kenzie’s voice came over his earpiece. “Chase’s radio isn’t working right. He hasn’t been able to reach you or Bran. He says the third perimeter guard went inside the cabin.”
Which, from his position, Bran would have seen. Since he hadn’t communicated the info, his radio wasn’t working, either.
Fuck. “Roger that. Can you reach Bran?”
“I think so. Hang on.” Kenzie came back on the radio a few seconds later. “He says it’s time for plan B. He says to tell you he’s heading into position.”
“Got it. Thanks, baby.”
Plan B was simple. Everything that could be done at this point had been executed. The third man was out of sight inside. They needed to move in. Bran would be going into the cabin through the attic window. Once he was in position, Chase would breach the back door while Reese went in through the front.
But they couldn’t move until Bran had located Griff’s whereabouts inside the cabin. And without direct radio contact, everything was going to be more difficult.
He thumbed the mic and spoke to Kenzie. “Make sure Bran and Chase both know you’ll be relaying communications.”
“Roger that, already done.”
Reese smiled. The lady was amazing. He started moving into position, getting closer to the front door, careful not to be seen. Chase would be doing the same while Bran roped up to the attic window from a blind spot on the west side of the cabin.
“Bran’s on the roof,” Kenzie said, relaying his message. “The window wasn’t a problem. He’s going inside.”
The radio went silent. Time dragged. The porch light went on, giving Reese a jolt, but no one came out. Through the dirty front window, he could see shapes moving around inside the cabin.
“Griff’s alone in the bedroom,” Kenzie relayed. “Three targets inside. No time to lose. Move into position.”
Gripping his .45 two-handed, Reese moved closer. He was twenty yards from the front door, slipping through the shadows, closing the distance when he heard Kenzie’s frantic voice through his earpiece.
“Plan C! Plan C!” No way she knew what it was, and he didn’t have time to explain. Plan C meant A and B had turned into a serious clusterfuck and each man was on his own, his objective to bring Griff out safely at any cost.
When the front door burst open and Griff bolted out onto the porch, Reese understood. He drew down on the man chasing the boy, but it was too late. A thick arm wrapped around Griff’s neck and hauled him backward against a wide barrel chest. A semiauto pressed against the side of Griff’s head.
“Get back in the house, you little shit!” It was the big guy with the ponytail.
Reese stepped out of the shadows, his pistol aimed at the gunman’s head. “Let him go.”
“Reese!” Griff clawed wildly at the man’s beefy arm.
“Easy, Griff. Stand down. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Trusting him, the boy stopped fighting. Shots rang out inside the cabin. Reese figured Bran and Chase had taken care of the other two men.
“Drop the gun or I kill the kid!” the gunman demanded, his arm tightening around Griff’s neck as he dragged him across the porch.
“There are three of us,” Reese said calmly. “Your friends are either dead or out of commission. You aren’t getting out of here alive unless you let the boy go.”
The gunman shook his head, his low ponytail sliding back and forth across his broad back. “No way. The kid’s my insurance. He goes with me. When I get to the first gas station, I’ll let him go.”
“I don’t want to go with him, Reese!”
Reese held steady, his hands firm around the pistol grip, the barrel aimed at the gunman’s head. “The boy stays here. You let him go and you live. Otherwise, you’re a dead man.”
Instead, keeping low, using Griff as a shield, the guy forced the boy down the steps, off the raised porch, and began hauling him across the clearing toward the Jeep. Bran and Chase both appeared in the doorway, pistols aimed toward the gunman.
“Let him go,” Reese called. “You’re outmanned and outgunned. No way you’re getting out of here with the boy.”
The gunman’s hard mouth slanted up on one side. “You’ve got the men but I’ve got the kid. That gives me leverage. I take the kid with me, he’ll be okay. You try to shoot it out, I’ll kill him.”
Reese steadied his pistol. He could make the shot—as long as nothing went wrong and he didn’t let his emotions get in the way. “I’m done asking.”
“Don’t be a fool! You shoot, you’ll hit the kid!”
“Last chance.” Reese tracked the pair with his weapon, sighting down the barrel.
He didn’t want to kill the guy. He’d been involved in enough bad stuff in his youth, done everything in his power to leave his past behind. But the gunman had almost reached the Jeep and letting him leave with Griff was not an option. And second by second as the distance increased, the shot was getting tougher.
“Stay cool, Griff,” Reese calmly instructed, holding the pistol steady. The boy went stock-still, and Reese pulled the trigger. The gunman’s head exploded, and Griff bolted, running full speed toward Reese. Reese caught him hard against him and hung on tight.
“You’re okay. It’s over. You’re safe.” He smoothed the boy’s reddish hair back from his forehead. “Your mom’s here. She’s waiting for you on the other side of the creek. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Griff looked up at him, tears in his eyes. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
Reese just nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Pulling the radio out of his pocket, he thumbed the mic. “Griff’s out and we’re all safe.” Kenzie’s soft sob came through the speaker as he handed the radio to her son.