Easton's Claim (Colebrook Siblings Trilogy Book 3) (21 page)

He stepped out from behind cover and swung the barrel of his rifle toward the noise as he moved forward, knowing Wyatt would be close behind him. It was too dark for him to see his target. He had to rely on only sound and instinct as he followed his prey along the edge of the footpath, tracking him through the darkened forest.

Just as they neared the edge of the road that bordered the eastern side of their property, Easton saw a man’s silhouette dart between the trees. He ran forward, caught sight of his target again and fired once.

A sharp cry mixed with the report of the rifle, followed by a dull thud as the man hit the ground.

Rifle to his shoulder, Easton rushed straight for the wounded man, who was sprawled on his side, unmoving. Branches snapped as someone ran off to the right.

Two of them.

Easton spun to take aim at the second man, dropped to one knee as a shot rang out, striking the tree behind him. The road was only forty or fifty feet up the path now.

Moving forward in a crouch, he carefully maneuvered through the brush, using his familiarity with the terrain to angle his way toward the edge of the road, and paused.

Wyatt was to his left, on one knee beside the fallen man. “Dead,” he murmured, his quiet voice carrying through the air, and checked the dying man for more weapons. “Not Gallant.”

Gallant must be the one trying to get to the road. Easton flexed his fingers around his rifle.
One down, one to go.
On this side of the property, anyway. There was still one more man unaccounted for if Greg’s numbers had been correct.

Peering through the last screen of trees between him and the road, Easton spotted a vehicle parked on the shoulder. “He’s gonna run for the car,” he whispered to Wyatt, who had moved up behind him.

“He won’t make it.” Raw rage filled his brother’s deep voice.

Nope.
Trusting his brother to have his back, Easton crept forward, watching the far tree line, keeping the car in his sights. A blur of movement shot out of the trees, and a sliver of light showed Gallant’s profile for a split second as he raced by.

Easton aimed through the trees, finger on the trigger, but Gallant managed to dive behind the car for cover before Easton could get a shot off.

He cursed under his breath. “He’s at the car.” Easton broke from cover and raced toward it, his feet flying over the carpet of branches and fallen leaves. The car engine roared to life and the tires squealed as it took off, spraying up leaves and gravel.

Easton burst through the trees a heartbeat later and fired twice at the rear window. Glass shattered. Wyatt appeared beside him and fired at a rear tire as Easton fired at the back of the front seat. A loud pop followed. The BMW veered and skidded, sliding off the road, and slammed sideways into a tree with a loud crash.

Before the vehicle had even come to rest, Easton and Wyatt were charging toward it. Easton caught movement in the driver’s seat. Gallant was struggling to shove the inflated air bag out of his way. Blood glistened on his face and his right arm, where one of Easton’s bullet had torn through his shoulder.

You’re fucking
mine.

Easton ripped open the passenger door, leaving Wyatt to cover him. Gallant grabbed for the weapon on the passenger seat as Easton dove inside and slammed his fist against the side of Gallant’s bleeding face.

The guy grunted and fumbled to bring the pistol up but Easton grabbed his wrist and wrenched it down and back. Bone snapped.

Gallant screamed and threw a punch with his other hand but Easton dodged it, grabbed the fucker by the back of the shirt and dragged him across the passenger seat and out of the car.

With a low snarl Easton threw Gallant onto the pavement and rolled him facedown, seizing both his wrists. He held them behind Gallant, pinning him there with his weight.

The son of a bitch was writhing, growling in pain, but Easton didn’t give a shit. “How many men did you bring here besides Greg?” he demanded, squeezing the broken wrist.

Gallant howled and arched, trying to throw him off. Easton didn’t budge.

“How many, asshole?” he yelled, out of patience. Piper, Austen and his dad were undefended back at the house. This pathetic son of a bitch had tried to kill them all.

“Two,” the guy snarled through gritted teeth, a trickle of blood snaking down the side of his face.

If he was telling the truth, it meant the dead guy Easton had just shot, and one more. “Where’s the other one?”

The guy was rigid beneath him, low growls of pain escaping his clamped lips. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck you.
Where
?”

Gallant grunted. “I dunno. West. Maybe southwest.”

Probably moving to the road on the west side of the property.

Still straddling Gallant’s prone body, Easton kept hold of the bastard’s wrists with one hand and pulled out his phone with the other to dial Jamie. His teammate had a Bluetooth in.

Jamie picked up but didn’t say anything, alerting Easton that he was either in pursuit or taking cover somewhere.

“There’s one shooter left,” Easton told him. “Likely moving west, toward the road. Gallant and another of his guys are down and cops should be here soon. Report in when you can.”

“Copy,” Jamie whispered back.

Easton disconnected and dialed the lead detective. After telling him what was going on and their location, the sound of distant sirens reached him. His next call was to his dad, who picked up immediately. “We got Gallant, and one of the shooters is down. Jamie and Charlie are in pursuit of the last one. You guys okay there?”

“I can hear the cops coming, they’re almost here. But Greg’s not gonna make it.”

Easton heaved out a sigh. Much as he hated the son of a bitch for what he’d done to Piper, he didn’t want her to see her ex die in front of her. She had to have been thoroughly traumatized by what she’d seen and gone through tonight. He knew she was strong enough to deal with it though. “Can you take Piper upstairs—”

“She won’t leave him.”

Hell. “All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He ended the call, shifted his grip on Gallant’s wrists.

“Fucking let go of my wrist,” he snarled, the sirens growing louder.

Easton reined himself in. “You’re lucky to still be breathing, asshole. Everyone else you brought here tonight is either dead or about to be.”

Blue and red strobe lights reflected off the side of the BMW as the cops turned the corner and raced toward them. Gallant shot Easton a look of pure hatred over his good shoulder. “You’re a dead man walking, Colebrook. The whole cartel knows about you. They know where you live. They know where your family and Piper are.”

“Shut him the hell up before I do,” Wyatt growled behind him.

With pleasure.
“Yeah, and they won’t touch any of us now that you’ve fucked up. Know what else? You’ll be going back to jail for a damn long time, and the entire cartel will turn their backs on you. Even if you live long enough to get out, you’ll already be dead to them.”

He shoved upward and stood when the cop cars roared up and stopped yards away. Easton set his rifle on the ground and raised his hands to put the cops at ease.

The closest car’s doors popped open and the lead detective jumped out, along with the FBI agents Easton had met before. “You both okay?” the detective called out.

Easton nodded. “We’re good. One shooter’s down in the woods over there,” he said, nodding in the direction of the body. “Greg Rutland is in the house with the others, looks like he won’t make it. My teammate and sister are going after the last shooter.”

The man nodded and strode over to hunker down beside Gallant. “Brandon Gallant, you have the right to remain silent.”

“Fuck you, and save your breath. I know my goddamn rights.”

Easton tuned them out and went with the FBI agents to answer their questions. He glanced over as the detective hauled Gallant to his feet. Blood soaked his face and arm and his grimace of pain filled Easton with satisfaction.

He hoped the bastard was in serious pain for a long time, but more than anything, all Easton wanted was to get back to Piper.

After requesting and receiving permission to go see her, he and Wyatt both raced back to the house. Cops were already on site, searching around the house.

When he hit the backyard the back door opened and Piper flew out of it. Her lap and shirt were stained with Greg’s blood. She raced over the damp grass toward him, the mixture of grief and relief on her face shredding him. Easton caught her as she leapt at him and locked his arms around her, burying his face against her soft hair.

Her arms clung to his shoulders. “He’s dead,” she whispered in a ragged voice that broke his heart. “Was gone before the paramedics got here.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetness.” That had to have been so hard for her to witness.

She nodded and pressed harder to him, her arms holding on so tight her muscles shook. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

She shuddered, sucked in a shaky breath and held him tighter. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Easton squeezed his eyes shut as his heart turned over. He’d wanted to hear those words from her for so damn long. “Love you too.” She was his now, and he was never letting her go.

He bent and lifted her into his arms, intending to carry her into the house but Piper stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of worry. “Where are Charlie and Jamie?”

Jamie’s pulse pumped hard and fast as he ran through the tangle of trees ahead of him. The other shooter was somewhere out front, concealed by the thick forest and its underbrush.

“Psst, over here,” Charlie called out in a whisper that carried through the darkness.

He skidded to a stop, turned in time to see her veer off to the left and disappear from view behind a group of trees. Cursing under his breath, he changed direction and raced after her. What the hell was she doing?

It drove him nuts that she was even out here with him right now, placing herself in this kind of danger. She was a computer analyst, not a trained operative, and he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her out here.

What the hell had her family been thinking, letting—no,
encouraging
her to partner with him for something like this? Once this was all over, he was going to rip into Easton for putting her in such danger.

His heart pumped hard as he ran, concern for her driving him to run faster, faster. She’d taken a path he hadn’t noticed before. He turned up it and charged after her, praying he got between her and the last shooter in time to protect her.

“I see him. He’s heading for the road.”

Her words floated back to him through the trees, and his gut tightened. “Stay there and don’t move,” he ordered, slapping branches out of his way with one hand, the rifle Wyatt had given him in the other.

He didn’t make it in time.

A second after he caught sight of Charlie up ahead, he spotted the shooter, who was whirling to fire. Before he could shout at her to get down, she raised her own rifle, aimed and fired two shots in rapid succession.

Her target, partially hidden from his view by the trees, grunted and hit the ground with a solid thud. Weapon up and ready, Jamie charged past Charlie and straight for him.

When he cleared the last of the trees in the way, the guy was on his back, groaning, not moving. Blood glistened on his chest, streamed out of his mouth. Shot through the lung.

Jamie kicked the dying man’s rifle out of reach and knelt to search him. He found a wallet and a backup weapon. When he placed two fingers beneath the angle of the man’s jaw, he wasn’t surprised there was no pulse.

“Is he dead?” Charlie asked softly from behind him.

“Yeah.” He didn’t know if she’d ever seen a dead body before or not, but he was pretty damn sure she’d never shot anyone before. Fuck.

Pushing to his feet, he slid the wallet into the front pocket of his jeans and turned to stand between her and the body so she wouldn’t have to see it. She still had the rifle in her hands but it was too dark for him to see her expression. Probably better that way.

“Come on,” he said in a low voice, reaching out to catch her hand. Her fingers were cold and he rubbed his thumb over them to help warm them.

She followed without a word, docile as a lamb. That and her icy hands told him everything he needed to know about her true emotional state. She was in shock, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit it.

As he led her back through the woods, he pulled out his cell to call Easton and let him know the last shooter was down, and that he and Charlie were about to emerge from the trees.

“Copy that,” Easton said. “Perimeter’s secure and the cops are moving to your position now. We’ll meet you at the house.”

Jamie put his phone back into his pocket and kept moving. The entire property was going to be crawling with cops and Feds in a matter of minutes.

By then he wanted Charlie back safe inside the house with a mug of something hot and a blanket around her shoulders. Her home had just been hit and she’d killed one of the attackers, and he wished like hell none of it had ever happened. They were all in for a long night while they gave statements and answered questions.

A patch of bloody grass glistened at the edge of the west pasture. Jamie changed course and blocked her view as he led her back toward the house, relief that it was over warring with irritation.

The threat might be over now but he was amped up on adrenaline and the sight of Charlie standing there aiming her rifle at the shooter only reminded him of what could have happened to her tonight. He was impressed as hell, but that didn’t matter.

She was trouble. He’d known it from the first time they’d met, and it turned out she had a wild, stubborn streak in her just like Easton.

When the house came into view, he could see the cops already fanning out across the yard. He stopped, turned to face her, struggling to sort out his emotions. Her hand was still cold in his. She stirred him up more than any other woman ever had.