Chapter 17: Ruth

As we're sitting around the table, biding our time, Diego's phone starts buzzing. He stands and stares at his phone screen. "Someone just pulled off the main road onto the lane. It's game time."

And just like that, Mike kills the lights in the cabin, thrusting us into darkness.

"Mike—" Jack says.

"Heading there now," Mike says, grabbing his rifle. He's on sniper duty in the barn loft.

"Ruth, go," Jack says, pushing me toward the bathroom.

Micah meets me halfway, steers me to my makeshift safe room, and follows me inside. "Stay in here," he says. He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him. "I'll be right outside your door. I won't let anyone get near you, I promise."

"Who's going to protect you?" I ask.

He grins at me. "How many times did you have my back when we were kids? You were always looking out for me. Now it's my turn to return the favor."

I have to tilt my head up to meet Micah's gaze. "Please be careful," I say. "If something happened to you—"

"Nothing's going to happen to me, sis." He pulls me close for a hug, his arms wrapping securely around me. It's an awkward embrace as we're both wearing body armor. He steps back through the open doorway. "Lock this door." And then he closes it.

Even as I lock the door, I realize this flimsy barrier would be little protection against someone determined to get through. My heart is thundering as I begin pacing the small space. There's hardly room for me to take five steps before I have to pivot and return to where I started. I try not to look at my reflection in the mirror over the vanity. The sight of the bulletproof vest is a frightening reminder of what's about to happen. And Jack and the others are outside, with little protection.

My stomach twists into knots as I contemplate our current situation. Any one of these guys could get hurt, or worse. The thought of something happening to Jack makes me ill.

I continue pacing, far too antsy to sit on the edge of the bathtub. Five minutes pass, then ten, then twenty, and I haven't heard a sound, not within the cabin or outside. The waiting, the not knowing, is nerve-wracking.

The need to know what's going on gets the best of me. I press my ear to the bathroom door and listen. When I don't hear anything, I quietly unlock the door and ease it open, just enough that I can peer outside.

I spot a shadow standing to the side of the front window, just out of sight. It's Micah.

It's fully dark out now, the only illumination coming from a full moon.

Suddenly, I hear a soft crackle over my earpiece.

"Three black SUVs coming up the lane," Diego says in a steady, even voice.

"I see them," Aleksa says.

"I'm in position," Jack says. "In the woods across from the cabin porch."

"I'm watching the cabin," Lenny says.

"In the nest," Mike confirms.

Before long, Micah and I can hear the distinct crunch of tires on gravel as the vehicles slowly progress up the lane.

"I need a headcount," Jack says.

"They've stopped about halfway up the lane," Diego reports. "They're getting out. Looks like they're going the rest of the way on foot."

"I count nine," Aleksa says. "No, wait. Ten. All heavily armed."

"Do you see Yevgeny?" Jack asks.

"Hard to tell," Aleksa says. "They're all wearing masks."

Suddenly the comms go quiet, and my heart starts pounding even harder. Any second now, there might be gunfire. Any second now, someone might get hurt. Or worse.

Micah puts his arm around me and holds me to him. "It'll be okay," he whispers.

But he can't know that for sure. He's just trying to placate me.

"Get back in the bathroom," he says quietly, nudging me in that direction.

But I'm rooted to the spot, unable to turn away. To hide.

Pop pop pop

Gunfire.

Then quiet for the space of several heartbeats.

Suddenly, there's a barrage of shots, coming from the left of us, down the lane. Men dressed in dark clothing emerge from the lane into the clearing, darting away to take cover behind trees, beside my Jeep, beside the SUV parked across the yard.

The mobsters are firing into the trees, and the trees are firing back.

When one of the assailants attempts to breach the front porch, a shot rings out, and the mobster falls backward onto the ground, where he lies still.

Another barrage of gunfire is followed by a spate of silence. Two of the goons race for the porch steps, one of them stopped dead in his tracks by a shot to the back of his head. The other races back to hide in front of my Jeep.

There are two dead bodies lying just beyond my porch.

Micah grips my left arm. "Go, Ruth. To the safe room."

All I can do is shake my head and watch, horrified, out the window. "What if someone's been shot?" I ask, my voice no more than a whisper.

"Bravo Two?" It's Jack's voice. He's breathing heavily.

"Here," someone says. I think that's Mike.

"Bravo Three?" Jack again.

"Here." That's definitely Aleksa.

"Bravo Four?"

"Here." Diego.

"Bravo Five?"

"Here," says a raspy voice. Lenny. But something's wrong. He's breathing hard. No, he's gasping. "Fuck, I'm hit." He groans.

"Hold on, Lenny," Jack says. "I'll come get you."

Suddenly, Lenny comes from around the corner of the cabin, his hand pressed hard to his side. I see blood seeping between his fingers. As he staggers up the porch steps, shots ring out, ricocheting off the wood railing. Lenny ducks, trying to keep a low profile as he makes a dash for the cabin door.

I race for the door.

"Ruth, no!" Micah yells. "Don't open that door!"

"I have to! He's hurt, Micah." I turn the deadbolt and release the chain so I can open the door.

Grimacing in pain, Lenny lurches inside.

I lunge forward, hoping to catch him before he falls, but he quickly rights himself and draws a semi-automatic handgun, which he points at my head.

I'm confused. "Lenny?"

"Stay back, Micah," Lenny says in a hard voice. He keeps his gun trained on me. "Or she's dead. Whether I shoot her now or later doesn't make any difference to me."

Micah lays his own gun on the windowsill, raises his hands, and takes several steps back. "Fine. Just don't hurt her."

I look from Lenny to Micah and back. Lenny looks perfectly calm and determined. I glance at his side and realize there's no wound there, only blood smeared on his clothing. "Lenny, what are you doing?"

Lenny grabs my arm, pulls me to him, and shoves the muzzle of his gun against my temple. "If you move an inch, Micah, I promise you I'll shoot her."

Micah's face hardens into a mask of cold rage as he clenches his hands at his sides. His gaze remains locked on Lenny. "You're not going to get away with this."

Lenny kicks the front door wide open and shoves me through it, out onto the porch. He stands directly behind me, holding me in front of him like I'm some kind of human shield. "Come on out, Jack!" he yells. "Unless you want your girlfriend's death on your hands, you'd better show yourself."