Page 60 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

“Coward,” Jessa muttered under her breath.

She hated this angle. Hated that the shooter had elevation. Hated that she couldn’t get a clean line of sight on Roman or the gunman. All she could see was dirt erupting where bullets tore through the ground and splinters flying off the fence posts.

Someone had planned this. Planned who would be where.

And Roman was running straight into it.

Roman reached into his SUV and came up with a smoke bomb. He didn’t hesitate. He hurled it toward the berm with a sharp overhand throw.

A second later, gray smoke bloomed, thick and fast, swallowing the shooter’s position.

Jessa’s chest tightened.

Don’t you dare get yourself killed.

Fear churned through her, but it didn’t crack her focus. She trusted Roman. He knew how to move under fire. He’d trained for moments just like this.

Still, watching him disappear into the smoke made her breath catch.

While keeping an eye on the west side of the property, she made glances at the edges of the haze, ready to fire if the shooter broke cover. Because trusting her brother didn’t mean she was willing to let him face this alone.

The gunfire cut off as suddenly as it had started. And the silence seemed to thunder in her ears.

Roman didn’t slow. He reached his SUV, yanked open the rear, and he pulled on a mask before breaking into a run toward the berm, running low and hard, cutting across open ground before the smoke fully settled. His timing was perfect, using the confusion to mask his movement. He disappeared into the thinning smoke, moving with purpose, every step calculated.

Then, Jessa caught movement to her right.

Her pulse spiked.

Wynn.

He slipped between patches of cover, half crouched, frantic eyes flashing before he ducked behind a fallen oak. His voice tore through the quiet.

“You killed her,” he shouted. “You all killed Lauren. And you’re going to pay for it.”

Jessa’s grip tightened on her weapon. Rage and grief twisted together on his face. He looked unmoored. Dangerous.

Deacon raised his voice, sharp and absolute. “Wynn, you fire one shot and you’re dead. You hear me? Call off your thug or whoever it is shooting at us.”

Wynn spewed out a stream of vicious profanity. “It’s not my thug. I came alone.”

She didn’t believe him, and judging from the sound Deacon made, neither did he. But why would Wynn lie about that when he’d made it clear he was there to kill them? Later, she’d give that some thought, but for now she had to focus on staying alive.

Jessa kept her sights trained in Wynn’s direction. Her heart pounded, and she was well aware that Roman was somewhere ahead, chasing the shooter, while Wynn stood close enough to ruin everything with a single pull of a trigger.

Gunfire cracked from across the road, sharp and fast.

Then Roman’s voice cut through it. “Shooter’s down.”

Relief slammed through her.

Deacon didn’t hesitate. “Jessa, Noah, keep Corbin covered. Don’t let him make a move.”

Before either of them could answer, Deacon was off the porch, charging straight toward the trees where she’d last spotted Wynn. Thin strands of smoke still drifted through the air, smearing outlines and swallowing him fast.

“Deacon,” she yelled, but he was already gone from her line of sight.

Ranger lunged after him, barking hard.