Page 59 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

Everything erupted at once.

Jessa felt Deacon’s arm hook around her, and he hauled her down as Noah moved fast, the three of them hitting the deck hard. Roman hurdled off the side of the porch, dropping down beside the steps where the foundation gave him cover. She hoped it would anyway.

Corbin yelled something and scrambled for his truck, hitting the gravel and rolling behind the rear tire.

The gunfire didn’t stop.

It came in a brutal stream, crack after crack after crack, tearing through wood and dirt like the shooter wanted nothing left standing. With her heart hammering, Jessa pressed her cheek against the cold decking. And she listened, trying to gather any info as to what the heck was going on.

The shots were too fast. Too steady.

Automatic.

“AK,” she said, forcing the words out between breaths. “That’s an AK.”

The nonstop fire chewed at the porch, rattling the house and sending chips flying. Whoever was out there wasn’t warning them. They were trying to wipe everyone out.

The gunfire kept ripping through the air, relentless and deafening, but Deacon’s voice somehow managed to cut through it. “Keep an eye on Corbin. He could’ve set this up.”

Jessa twisted just enough to confirm Corbin was still pinned behind his truck, hands visible. For now.

“No one’s got eyes on the shooter?” Deacon called out.

“No,” Roman answered. “But the shots are coming from straight across the ranch. Probably behind the berm. Or the low hill past the fence line.”

The angle made sense. Elevation. Cover. A clear line of fire.

Whoever it was had gotten close enough to trip Deacon’s security. Close enough to know exactly where to sit.

Then another thought slammed into her.

“Deacon,” she yelled. “What if there’re two attackers?”

He went still. Even over the gunfire, she felt it.

“One could’ve tripped the sensors,” she continued fast. “Forced everyone’s attention here while the shooter set up.”

There was a beat of silence between bursts of gunfire.

“Shit,” Deacon said. “You’re right.”

That realization made everything worse. Because if they were dealing with more than one person, then that could make it much easier for this to turn into a fatal attack.

Deacon shouted orders over the gunfire. “Noah, keep watch of the east side. Jessa, eyes on the west.”

She shifted her position, angling low and steady, eyes scanning through the scrub and fence line even as rounds tore through wood and dirt.

“I’m going for him,” Deacon said.

“Like hell you are,” Roman snapped. “You’re injured. Stay put.”

Before anyone could argue, Roman broke from cover. He sprinted low, fast, boots pounding the dirt, and he slid in behind his SUV, weapon up and already tracking the rise beyond the berm.

“Damn it,” Deacon cursed.

He hauled himself up just enough to fire, sending controlled shots toward the hillside, trying to pin the shooter down and give Roman a chance to move. Every motion cost him. Jessa could see it in the tightness of his face, the way his body fought him.

Corbin flattened himself under his truck, crawling farther in until only his boots were visible.