CHAPTER NINE

She raced, under gunfire, towards the trunk of their burning vehicle, hoping upon hope the rifle would be unscathed by the blasts.

The steering wheel and front driver’s side clearly wasn’t so lucky:

melted and charred, it was now little more than a molten lump of plastic and metal.

Her boots pounded the asphalt as she darted toward the burning vehicle. The flames threw long, writhing shadows onto the street, illuminating her path in a harsh, flickering light. Ethan made good on his promise, providing cover fire as best he could with his injured shoulder. Bullets whizzed past her, kicking up bits of gravel that stung against her exposed skin.

Rachel reached the car and skidded to a halt at the trunk. Heat surged off the metal body of the car, scalding her palms as she fumbled for the latch. Her fingers found it and, with a grunt of effort, she hauled open the trunk.

Except it didn’t open.

Was it melted shut?

No. Shit. Locked.

"Ethan!" she screamed. "Key!"

Would the Bluetooth lock still work? Half the car was charred. Ethan spotted her, fumbling into his pocket to push the button.

The trunk popped open, the lock releasing with a hollow click. Relief swept over her in a cold rush that drowned out the raging inferno around her for a brief moment.

Bullets plowed into the car beside her, metal whining in protest as it was pierced through.

She heard a shout from Ethan's direction and glanced over to see him pointing towards the rooftop.

The sniper - he had shifted positions while they were distracted. She could just make out his silhouette against the dark sky, hunkered down behind an air conditioning unit.

"Distract him," she shouted at Ethan without looking at him.

He nodded and fired off couple of rounds towards the rooftop but she could tell his aim was off at this distance. Not that it mattered; they only needed to keep the shooter occupied.

Danvers had clearly been telling the truth. Someone had shot at her. And now they’d returned to finish the job.

Smoke billowed out in a thick cloud, momentarily blinding her. Eyes watering, Rachel reached into the smoky interior and grabbed her rifle case. She recoiled as heat seared her hand through the fabric handle but held on tight. It was hot, not searing.

Pulling the case free from the inferno, she retreated to a safer distance before flipping it open to reveal her scoped rifle. She expertly checked it over before slapping in a clip and racking the bolt.

With one last glance at Ethan--who was pressed against their makeshift barricade, firing sporadically while Alice and her bodyguards hunkered down behind another car--she took off again.

This time, she skirted around the edge of the parking lot, using parked cars and sparse shrubbery as cover. The muzzle flashes from Ethan's gun lit up his position like intermittent fireworks – attention-grabbing and dangerous. His diversion afforded Rachel enough cover to reach an alleyway bracketing the neighboring motel building.

She clambered up the fire escape. Moving fast.

She hit the roof, going prone, rifle in hand. Memories surged. A large grizzly on the horizon, growling where it stood over a mountaineer. She’d been called in by chopper to help with the search and rescue.

But that grizzly—one of the largest she’d ever seen.

Rachel could feel her memory, allowing her to relax. She exhaled shakily, releasing a pent-up breath. There were three keys to taking a clean shot:

Breathe. Steady. Squeeze.

She lined the sniper in her sights, centering the crosshairs on his concealed figure. One shot. That’s all it would take. She’d taken down bigger targets than this.

She exhaled, her body steady against the roof, the cold metal of the rifle a comforting weight in her hands. The world seemed to slow for a moment, sounds muffled as if she were underwater.

Her scope lined up on the shooter. Two of them. One with a machine gun. The other with a rifle.

She could see them huddled together.

She aimed for the one shooting at Ethan, and then went still.

Her heart caught, and she let out a slow, cursing exhale.

She recognized the shooters, now. Recognized them, because she’d been searching for them. One of them even had what looked like a fresh burn mark on his cheek.

She’d known that by visiting the off-grid community, she’d be kicking over a hornet’s nest.

but she hadn’t known exactly how much trouble she’d stir up for herself. These were the thugs who’d taken a shot at Aunt Sarah. And now they were here…

She stared at John Red Bear and Joseph White Cloud. The step-brothers who’d allegedly been involved in her mother’s disappearance. Crew members of a heist team who might’ve gone violent.

Clearly, they were no stranger to violence.

The two men looked older than their mugshots, and both had longer hair. But it was undoubtedly them, recognizable from the flat cheeks and sharp, hawk-like noses. Not to mention the tribal tattoos up and down their arms, visible even in the smoke-filled sky.

“Shit,” she cursed.

She fired a warning shot.

She needed them alive. A bullet tinged off the air-conditioning unit. Joseph dropped to the ground, screaming.

John whirled around, aiming. She fired again. This time, her bullet caught him in the chest. He went down, hard.

“Stay down!” she shouted across the gap. “Don’t move, Joseph! Don’t you dare move!”

There was cursing now, but no more gunfire.

"Ethan?" she called. "You okay?"

“Peachy! You?”

“Fine.”

“It’s John Red Bear and Joseph White Cloud,” she shouted down. “John is shot.”

“EMTs on the way!” Ethan’s voice retorted.

“Don’t shoot!” came Joseph’s screams. “Dammit—just, just don’t shoot !”

Rachel kept her scope trained on the lip of the roof. Joseph tried to rise to run, so she shot the air conditioning unit again. The explosion of sparks dissuaded

him from further attempts. He hit the ground, his body pressed flat against the rough concrete of the roof.

Rachel ignored the bitter taste of adrenaline and grit filling her mouth. Moving carefully but swiftly, she collected her gear and made her way back to Ethan. He was hunkered down behind the barricade, his face a hard mask of grim resolve as he kept his weapon directed towards the rooftop.

His eyes were transfixed on something in the distance—a convoy of police cars with flashing lights turning into the motel's parking lot.

"Guess they call out the cavalry when Rangers are shot at," Ethan murmured.

Rachel glanced back towards where Alice Danvers was still hiding behind the sole remaining SUV.

“I think it might be the billionaire,” she pointed out. “Here, you good?”

“I’m fine.”

He fell into step behind her as she hastened towards the fire escape in the opposite building. She shouted at Alice, “Don’t go anywhere!”

But she needn’t have bothered. The billionaire was laying on the ground, looking far less dignified than the imposing figure she’d cut earlier when the lightning had been right.

The building housing the two snipers looked as if it had once been a car shop, but was now an empty husk. She sprinted up the fire escape, her footsteps clanging.

Ethan came behind her.

As they neared the top, Rachel slowed, cautious. “Stay on the ground, Joseph. John, help is on the way! Don’t be stupid.”

Faint cursing. “You shot my brother!”

“He was trying to shoot me. Don’t make the same mistake,” she retorted.

She inched slowly along the edge of the fire escape platform. But instead of entering through the opening, she held a finger to her lips and indicated Ethan should stay put, out of sign a few steps down from the top. For her part, she swung over the railing, still avoiding the doorway cut in the wall.

If Joseph or John were planning anything, they'd be aiming right at it. Now, on the other side of the railing, with nothing to prevent her twenty-foot fall, Rachel shimmied along a concrete parapet encircling the top of the building.

She shimmied a good fifteen feet away from the expected entrance and then vaulted the concrete.

John was groaning, clutching at his chest, but Joseph had his machine gun in hand, tongue sticking out of his lips, aiming directly at the fire escape, his finger on the trigger.

She had landed a few paces behind his prone figure.

His hair was greasy and matted, and the career criminal was muttering darkly under his breath, issuing a series of expletives as he lined up his shot.

She didn't give him a chance to fire. With a swift kick, she disarmed the man, sending the weapon skittering across the concrete rooftop and over the edge. Joseph let out a startled cry, turning sharply. His eyes widened with fear when he saw her standing there.

"End of the line," Rachel said, her words echoing in the night.

Joseph's gaze flickered between Rachel and his injured brother. "You shot him!" he repeated, anger replacing his initial fear.

"He was shooting at me," she countered coldly. "And you would've done the same."

"You don't understand," Joseph began to protest, but Rachel cut him off.

"No more excuses." She gestured with her gun for him to move away from John. "Get over there."

Joseph complied after a moment's hesitation, stumbling towards the parapet where Rachel had vaulted over earlier. He kept glancing back towards his brother, who'd fallen silent now. Rachel hoped it was unconsciousness brought on by shock and not something worse.

As Joseph moved away, Ethan emerged from the fire escape entrance silently. His gaze met Rachel's, and they shared a nod of understanding. Together, they approached John slowly, keeping their guns trained on Joseph just in case he decided to do something stupid.

Ethan knelt down next to John first while Rachel kept her gun pointed at Joseph, who had gone very still now. The flashing lights of the police cars illuminated the scene in alternating red and blue hues as they came closer.

Ethan touched John's neck gently, and then he grimaced. He shook his head. “He’s gone.”

Joseph let out a faint scream at this declaration.

His body crumbled to the ground, and he sobbed into his hands. Rachel's heart clenched.

"Call it in," she muttered to Ethan, keeping her gaze fixed on the grieving man.

Ethan nodded, pulling out his phone with one hand while he kept his gun trained on Joseph with the other. His voice was low as he relayed the situation to dispatch.

Rachel slowly approached Joseph, her own weapon still drawn but no longer aimed at him.

"You had a choice," she said, her tone flat, though inwardly she felt a pang of grief. "You both did."

Joseph didn't respond, his body shaking with grief. She looked over at Ethan, who hung up his phone and gave her a curt nod. The cavalry was coming.

These men had likely been the ones who’d shot at Aunt Sarah.

But who had tried to shoot Alice Danvers, then? These men? It seemed unlikely.

They weren't connected to Danvers Corp as far as Rachel knew. No. Joseph and John had come hunting for her because she'd disturbed their hidey-hole in the off-grid community.

She’d gone looking for answers, and answers had come calling.

She released a slow, pent-up breath.

She'd hoped to find answers, but now all she had were more questions. How was Alice Danvers involved in her daughter's death? Where was Jake Shields, the missing boyfriend?

Other questions followed these. Questions involving the death of her mother… Now, the two most likely suspects lay on the roof. One of them dead, the other one blaming Rachel for his brother’s demise.

If she wanted answers to any of it, she couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

Time was not on her side.