Defiance (The Defending Home Series Book 1) (21 page)

Dale shifted uncomfortably. “Things may have ended badly between us before and I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

She looked on without saying anything.

“With Randy’s lies swirling around, I wasn’t only worried about myself. I was worried how it might affect your career and above all, I was worried how it might affect Brooke.”

“She was still reeling from her mother’s death,” Sandy said, sipping her coffee.

“We were all reeling in one way or another, I suppose.”

“What I never got was who spilled the beans about us?” Sandy said. “I mean, we were so incredibly secretive about the whole thing. Only a tiny handful of people knew.”

Dale nodded. “I wondered that myself. At the time, I’d assumed it had been Brooke, out to hurt me for moving on.”

“Did she expect you to stay single for the rest of your life?”

Smiling, Dale said, “At sixteen she did, but since then her views have changed.” His gaze settled on Sandy’s hazelnut eyes. “It isn’t safe for you to go home.”

“I know,” she admitted. “Though I won’t deny the thought’s crossed my mind.”

“That’s why I want you to stay here with us from now on,” Dale said.

Sandy laughed, covering her mouth in an almost self-conscious way. “Is that an order?”

He took her hand. “I let you go once and I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“You don’t know how long I waited for you to say that,” she told him. “But the last twenty-four hours have left my head spinning. If I do stay, it won’t be as a couple.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “But if not here, I can’t imagine where you might stay.”

“I’m still angry at you for dropping me like a hot stone,” she said.

“Doesn’t busting you out of danger count for something?”

She leaned in, close enough to kiss him, but didn’t. “It’s a start.”

Zach

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A
column of nearly twenty Harleys roared along Interstate 10 with Zach at its head. The death of Johnny at TJ’s Full-Throttle Roadhouse, while unfortunate, had had two major consequences. The first had been to loosen one of the molars in the back of Zach’s mouth. The second had been to gain the loyalty and respect of Johnny’s entire gang. You could dress people up in fancy clothes and teach them how to count real high, but at the end of the day, there was still a bit of animal left in each of us, some more than others.

They passed the Welcome sign on the edge of Encendido and all at once the butterflies in Zach’s belly began to do a merry jig. Ever since his inadvertent escape from Florence Supermax he’d driven through three states with the single-minded purpose of reuniting with his son. Now he was so close he was having a hard time believing it was real.

Encendido was where he had lived for the first ten years of his marriage to Lori. Right up until the time the FBI had nabbed him and Lori had handed him a set of divorce papers.

The motorcycle gang reached the high school and Zach couldn’t believe how little had changed, even after the virus had come through and wiped nearly everyone from the face of the earth. Soon they came to streets lined with houses, many of them painted with red X’s, their windows vandalized, and Zach’s sense of dread began to grow. Lori’s street was around the next corner and as he turned, the unmistakable snarl of eighteen Harleys pinging off the nearby houses, Zach spotted her place and felt the air immediately sucked from his lungs. The front door was swinging wide open, a large hole in her front bay window.

They parked along the street, Zach hopping off and rushing inside. The other bikers were slower to dismount, removing their helmets and setting them on the seats of their rides.

Zach went from room to room, frantically calling Colton’s name. Dannyboy and Hawkeye followed. He’d spoken at length about his boy and perhaps on some level they too felt some sense of kinship with him. They were about the same age after all.

After searching the entire house and finding nothing, he went to the kitchen, wondering whether they’d fled to a government shelter. It was a long shot, Zach knew. He hadn’t seen any since Colorado, a distance that represented several hundred miles. 

He stood with his hands on the kitchen sink, staring out the window, when the cross in the backyard caught his eye. The other two noticed the change too.

“What is it, boss?” Hawkeye asked.

Pushing past them, Zach went into the backyard. He hoped to hell it wasn’t what he thought it was, but how could it be anything else? The grave marker was a simple wooden cross, the name
Lori
etched across the front. Above that were three words.
Miss you forever.

The unexpected wave of sorrow he felt wash over him at the loss of his ex-wife was tempered by a new sense of hope. Colton had written those words. Zach didn’t have proof, the kind that might hold up in a court of law or anything, but he had a gut feeling and his guts were rarely wrong.

“Zach,” Dannyboy said from inside. “I think you better get out here. The cops just pulled up.”

Zach

––––––––

Z
ach made it out of the house in time to see three cruisers blocking the road, lights flashing. Zach and his gang hadn’t committed any crime in being here, but the men and women in his posse hated the cops about as much as he did, so it wasn’t any surprise they were taking cover behind their bikes, their weapons drawn.

The loudspeaker from one of the cop cars began blaring. “This is Sheriff Gaines. Encendido is currently on lockdown. We ask that you kindly turn around and cross back over the town line.”

“Kindly,” Zach said to himself. “How cute.” They outnumbered the cops by six to one, so if the cops were dumb enough to draw down, there would only be one outcome. Zach walked to a spot halfway between his gang and the cops. He saw the sheriff still hiding in his car and motioned him forward. Slowly, the sheriff got out and the two men stood staring at one another.

“I know you,” Zach said, surprised. “Randy, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, Zach.”

“Where’s that old geezer Joe Wilcox?”

“Dead,” Randy replied without flinching.

“You used to own the scrapyard, I seem to remember.”

“Still do.”

Zach tilted his head. “Bet you’re not doing such brisk business these days.”

The corner of Randy’s mouth rose into a smirk. “You’re right there. Listen, we don’t want any trouble. But you and your men are gonna need to leave town. There’s a major operation about to begin.”

“A major operation,” Zach repeated. “Sounds serious.”

“Believe me, you won’t want to be here to find out.”

The intensity in the sheriff’s eyes piqued his curiosity, but not enough to probe any further. “We have no intention of sticking around,” Zach told him. “We’re here for one thing and one thing only—my son.”

Randy’s expression changed and that made Zach’s bones fill with dread. He clenched his teeth.

“What’s his name?”

“Colton.”

That strange look on the sheriff’s face grew more pronounced and Zach wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

“You know where he is?” For a fleeting moment, the hope had returned.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but he died,” Randy said, his hands resting at his sides, his expression now a mask of pity.

Zach was biting back the pain. “Flu got him?”

Randy shook his head. “I wish that were the case. He was killed.”

Zach’s head snapped to attention. “What?”

“Murdered by Dale Hardy. We haven’t been able to arrest him ’cause he’s holed up with more firepower than we can handle.” Randy motioned to the pistol on his belt.

Zach could feel those red rings around his eyes glowing scarlet. He knew perfectly well where Dale lived. Dale was the boy’s uncle. But that he would do something like this...

“You sure?” Zach growled, his voice sounding like the Harleys they’d driven in on.

“I swear to God,” Randy said, holding up three fingers in the Scout salute, as though there was any connection.

But connection or not, Zach had heard enough.

“We’ll go with you to help arrest Dale,” Randy started to say.

“You won’t need to,” Zach told him coolly. “I’ll take care of him myself.”

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D
ale and Shane regarded the barbed-wire fence with pride. While it didn’t yet surround the entire house, it created a nice obstacle for anyone attempting a frontal assault on what was quickly becoming a fortress. With Sandy’s help and all hands on deck, even the retractable stairs would soon be done.

“When we were at the sheriff’s office the other day looking for Sandy,” Dale said, removing his gloves and stuffing them into his back pocket, “I noticed you froze when that deputy drew on us.”

Shane grabbed the wheelbarrow with the remaining barbed wire and began heading for the garage, careful to avoid the traps. “Maybe for you killing someone is as easy as breathing.”

“I’m not bringing this up to make you feel bad,” Dale said, following behind him. “We have no formal military training, but we’ve been thrown into a crappy situation where it would sure come in handy.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

Dale sighed. “I’m saying we made mistakes that night, Shane, more than a few, and it’s in our best interest to be clear about those mistakes so they don’t happen again. One was hesitating in the face of danger.”

“
You
sure didn’t hesitate and now we’ve got cops’ blood on our hands.”

Dale tugged at his brother’s arm. “I never forced you to come along. We both knew the risks and it turns out we were right.” Dale watched Sandy and Brooke, steadying the stairs as Walter and Colton attached the last few steps. “Who knows what might have happened if we’d failed to act.”

Shane didn’t respond.

“You blame me for everything that’s happened, don’t you?” Dale said.

Shane stopped and set the wheelbarrow down. “Look, I’m thankful you brought us in, especially Nicole’s family. You didn’t need to do that. Although I’m sure there was a better option than declaring war on the whole town.”

Dale bent down and scooped up a patch of dirt and slowly let it trickle between his fingers. “Dad gave us this land, entrusted it to us. This isn’t something we bought on eBay. It’s been in our family for over a hundred years and I wasn’t going to let anyone snatch it out from under us. Don’t be fooled into thinking this is only about water, Shane. It’s about our right of ownership. If they can take that, then everything else starts to fall away bit by bit.”

“You’re wrong,” Shane said. “Dad didn’t entrust the land to us. He entrusted it to you.”

The sting of Shane’s comment sliced through Dale’s flesh. He was about to respond when Duke began to bark.

“You hear that?” he asked his brother.

Shane paused and listened. “Sounds like motorcycles,” he said.

“A lot of them. Leave the wheelbarrow,” Dale told his brother as he raced off toward the house, the Remington over his shoulder, smacking against his back as he ran.

Duke was still barking when Dale ordered everyone inside.

“What’s going on?” Brooke asked.

“Don’t ask questions, just do it.” He called for Duke, who gave one final bark before running into the house. Dale, Shane and Colton dragged the still unfinished staircase inside the garage and pulled down the door, locking it.

“Are we being attacked?” Walter asked, following them inside the main part of the house.

“I’m not sure,” Dale replied. “A large number of bikes are heading this way and I won’t be caught outside just in case.”

Firing positions reinforced with sandbags had been set up along the windows inside every bedroom, which gave them nearly a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree field of fire. Thick burlap curtains had been nailed over each window in order to catch flying glass and act as a kind of visor, a sniper’s trick Walter had shown them. With the lower floors largely secure, they could shuffle manpower, weapons and ammunition from station to station as needed.

Colton and Brooke had the southern position. Shane and Nicole took the western window looking out over the pumphouse. Dale and Walter guarded the front while Sandy and Ann watched the eastern approach. Walter had suggested a sniper’s nest in the barn behind the house, but in the heat of the moment, Dale hadn’t thought to send anyone out there.

Soon the bikes began to arrive, stopping in front of the house one by one, and Walter begged Dale to hold his fire. They didn’t know yet what these men wanted, nor did they want them to scatter before they could open up.

Dale’s Remington was zeroed for a hundred yards. Beside him, Walter peered through the close-range sighting system on his AR. Everyone had been given earplugs they were instructed to keep on them at all times just in case. Walter pointed to his own ears as a reminder to Dale, who stuck a sweaty hand into his pocket, his fingers trembling as he flattened the foamy tips before inserting them into his ears.

When he peered outside, more than a dozen bikers were arrayed on the road in front of them. Many had taken cover behind the engines of their motorcycles. Some had abandoned their bikes altogether to hide behind trees or boulders on the other side of the street. A few were using cover to circle around the sides.

“Think these are more of Sheriff Gaines’ hired goons?” Walter asked, peeling his eye away from the scope.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Dale said.

A second later, a voice shouted at them from outside. “Dale Hardy, you’re a coward and a murderer and today is the day you die.”

The bikers opened up with a salvo of bullets. Dale and Walter ducked behind the sandbags, keeping low to the floor as rounds pierced the walls and tore through the window. Bits of drywall and wood rained down on their heads.

A moment later, the firing stopped and the voice spoke again. “We’re only here for Dale,” the man said. “He killed my son and he’s gonna hang for it. Send him out and we’ll spare your lives.”

Dale knew that voice, but couldn’t place it. Nor could he tell whose son he was talking about. He’d been forced to kill a number of men in the last week. Could it be one of the deputies? It hardly seemed likely.