My heart hammered against my ribs. I slowly stepped backward, intending to retreat to my garage to prepare. But as I shifted my weight off my bad leg, my boot came down on a piece of river stone Evelyn had cracked in half.
The stone ground against the asphalt with a sharp, unmistakable crunch.
The voices in the garage stopped instantly.
“Did you hear that?” the Leader whispered.
Footsteps began moving rapidly toward the open door, heading straight for my position.
CHAPTER 3
There was no time to run, and with my shattered shin, nowhere to hide in the open daylight. I threw myself to the ground, rolling painfully under the high chassis of Evelyn’s Range Rover just as the garage door swung fully open.
Two pairs of tactical boots stepped onto the driveway. From beneath the undercarriage, I held my breath, the smell of hot motor oil and crushed marigolds filling my nose. My spine burned with a fierce, radiating heat, but I forced my muscles to remain completely motionless.
“Check the perimeter,” the Leader commanded. “He’s injured. He couldn't have gone far.”
The boots separated. One set moved toward my front porch; the other headed straight for my detached garage at the end of the driveway. I waited until the footsteps faded onto the grass, then dragged myself out from under the SUV.
I moved as silently as a ghost, relying on decades of muscle memory to compensate for the screaming pain in my leg. I reached the side door of my garage just as the younger guard stepped through the main bay.
The garage was dimly lit, smelling of gasoline and old wood. The guard swept the room with a drawn suppressed pistol, his eyes scanning the toolbenches. He made a fatal error: he focused on the shadows in the corners, ignoring the vertical space behind the heavy steel shelving unit near the door.
As he stepped past me, I didn't reach for my revolver. A gunshot would bring the others instantly. Instead, I grabbed a heavy, forged-steel wrench from the workbench. I stepped out from the shadows, stepping inside his guard.
Before he could turn his weapon, I swung the wrench upward, catching him squarely under the jaw. His teeth snapped together with a sickening crack. As his eyes rolled back, I caught him, lowering his dead weight silently to the concrete floor. I stripped him of his weapon and zip-tied his wrists to the heavy iron leg of my workbench, shoving a shop rag into his mouth.
I took his tactical radio. It crackled with static.
“Status,” the Leader’s voice hissed over the earpiece.
I didn't answer. I just crushed the earpiece under my boot.
Suddenly, a loud, panicked scream erupted from the mansion next door.
I limped quickly to the garage window, peering through the dusty glass. The situation next door had rapidly deteriorated. The front door of the glass mansion had been thrown wide open. The men with the briefcases were walking out, shaking their heads in disgust.
Evelyn Thorne was chasing after them, her wide-brimmed hat gone, her pristine hair wild and messy. “Wait! Please! I just need one more week! I have the assets, I promise you!”