AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, I don’t.” She hit the red button, cutting off his demands. She’d tried. Once Jeff discovered she’d hung up, and quit ranting, the remaining men whispered and walked to the kitchen, phones creating beams of bright light. The kitchen surveillance showed two men crouch in front of her commercial range. A gas range. Rats. She hadn’t considered the need for an automated propane cutoff.
She texted Tom. “Can you talk?”
Her phone buzzed. “Love, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. But I need the propane turned off outside. They’re doing something to the stove, either setting a fire or trying to rig it to blow.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“No, unfortunately. I’ve got fire retardant in the range hood, so a fire isn’t a threat, but if they empty the propane into the house, they might get enough in there to blow things up a bit. I’ll be fine in the safe room, but it will make a huge mess. I can open the security shutters, but the windows aren’t automated. The propane tank is buried at the end of the garage. You’d have to pop the cover, then turn it off. Can you do it safely, or are there more enemies out there?”
“There’s a guy on a four-wheeler; Dad’s got him pinned down behind the house. We’ll move that direction, but it may take a while, since they’re actually stupid enough to try and return fire. We can use the deputy’s vehicle as our cover.”
“Thanks. Be careful, especially if law enforcement shows up. I can go to the panic room and stay or take the escape route from there. If they blow the house, it can be replaced. You can’t.”
“We got this. Be careful. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She clicked off.
She brought up the outside cameras and watched Tom crouch and run down the hill to the sheriff’s vehicle while Dad fired at the end of the house by the garage. The man with the four-wheeler cowered with his hands over his head, pistol clenched in one hand. Once Tom reached the sheriff’s car, Dad drove their old truck down the road slightly, probably looking for a place he could directly target the guy with the four-wheeler.
In the kitchen, the men had pulled all the pots and pans out of the cupboard under the range and were whispering again. Probably trying to figure out how to turn on the propane without killing themselves.
She had to slow them down. She cackled, the sound startling in her office. Swiping through her security programs, she found the sprinkler control panel. They were designed to go off in zones, rather than all turning on at once. Water damage would be easier to fix than being blown up, if it worked. And she could turn it off quickly. Grinning, she triggered the kitchen sprinklers. They blasted down and set the fire alarms ringing. She silenced all of them except the ones on the first floor and texted everyone what she’d done.
The men jumped to their feet, water pounding down and the range hood showering them with fire extinguishing chemicals. The strobe-like effect of the fire alarms made it hard to see the men, but three of them ran for the door, slipping on the wet floor.
She sent a text. “Three outbound.”
The remaining man appeared to be Jeff. He walked carefully through the deluge to the stair door. Guess he was determined to die. He raised his pistol, aiming at the door.
-BOOM-
The muzzle flash fuzzed out the IR cameras. He fired three more times. It was unlikely he’d get through the lock, but maybe she should confront him. Get it all over with. She walked to the door going downstairs, opening it but staying on her side of the frame. She left the bottom door locked. She didn’t want to kill him, not at all. She wanted him to leave. But she wasn’t going to die, either. Nor was she going to let her house burn down with her in it. She’d wait for a short time and see what he’d do next.
Jeff kicked the door, then hopped around, holding his foot. He fell and put his injured foot down, stopping his descent, but howling in pain. Then he picked a long, skinny object off the floor. A crowbar; the tow truck driver must have dropped it. He jammed it into the splintered wood near the lock, damaged by his gunfire. He jammed the bar in, over and over, eventually creating a hole large enough to pry the door open, splintering the frame around the deadlock. She should have ignored her designer’s insistence on keeping the pretty wood and gone with steel. Jeff stumbled inside the stairwell and landed badly on the stairs, but bounded to his feet and pointed his weapon up the stairs.
Her heart pounding, she stayed out of sight but ready. “Jeff, drop the weapon, or you’re dead.”
“You owe me that money! And they’ll kill me without it.” He fired as he ran up the stairs.
Wiz waited. She blew out her breath halfway. His weapon appeared, and fire flashed from the barrel. She fired, hitting the target in the left temple twice, and into the chest as he fell, rolling down the wide stairs. She released her magazine and reloaded. Then she slowly padded to the target and kicked his gun away. His shirt had slid up; a second pistol was tucked in the waistband of his pants, and she pulled that out and tossed it down the stairs.
She stared down at the eyes of the man she’d once loved, staring blindly up at the ceiling. He had to have known he couldn’t survive. But he’d said, “They’ll kill me.” Someone else was involved, which meant there might be more attacks. Hopefully, they’d stop with Jeff’s death. She closed her eyes and sagged against the stairwell wall. Then she forced them open. She had bad guys to deal with. Lock the emotions down, deal with them later. She pulled her phone, skirted the pool of blood, and stopped just inside the stairwell door. Then she pulled up the exterior cameras on her phone.
The remaining men were lined up in front of the house, hands in the air, kneeling on the driveway. Tom was cuffing them to each other. Where did he get handcuffs?
She reset the sprinklers in the kitchen and retracted the shutters, then secured the second floor stairway door. Good thing she’d insisted that one being metal. Then she searched the first floor. She didn’t think she’d missed anyone, but better safe than sorry.
She peered out the front door. Smoke rolled and eddied. She’d forgotten all about the fire these morons had set.
Dad stood in front of the men, rifle in his hands, pointed at the ground. Tom was cuffing the last one. Dad beckoned her out. Wiz kept her weapon in her hand and skirted the line of men, careful to stay out of his line of fire.
“Wiz! Are you okay?” Tom shoved the last guy forward, bounded to her, and reached but didn’t grab her. The enemy he’d shoved swore but didn’t move from his uncomfortable position, face down on the ground, one arm wrenched behind him, connected to the next man.
Wiz holstered her weapon and threw herself into Tom’s chest. “Yes. I’m okay.”
His arms closed around her. “Thank God. We were so scared.”
