various views outside his house.
The synchronization of their approach didn’t compare to the Brethren, their instincts not nearly as honed. It took them several minutes to realize no one stepped forward to stop them. They picked up their pace, rushing to the sides of the house.
“Similar to a rag-tag army with no training,” Gunner chuckled.
Deke stood behind Fuse, arms crossed. “They aren’t in the right positions to trigger the pressure mats.”
Mitch narrowed his gaze, quickly changing from one screen to another. “It won’t be long. I’ll be damn. Look where the leaders are. Cocky and stupid. They aren’t wearing masks, and we have them on digital.” He pointed to two different screens.
Viktor and Vulture stayed well back, watching while not putting themselves in danger. Grizzly also kept his distance on the opposite side of the house.
“They have handhelds,” Ghost said through his comm unit. “A few others have them, but with the masks, I can’t I.D. them.”
Viktor, Vulture, Grizzly, plus Hammer, Trick, Pistol, and a couple of Viktor’s men carried radios, more cumbersome than those used by the Brethren. Features hard, Viktor raised his to bark out orders. An instant later, the seventeen remaining pole lights were activated, illuminating the house and barn in bright lights.
“Someone activated the pressure mats.” Brittany’s stomach tightened at what might come next.
Gunner’s eyes widened. “Damn, they’re bright. Better than at a high school football field.”
“The sirens must have gone off. They’re running all over the place. Wrath, do you have ears on the ground at Fuse’s?” Mitch asked.
“Tracker and Moses are parked close by. They’ve confirmed the sirens are earsplitting.”
Seeing the armed intruders dance around, disoriented from the lights and deafening sounds, Fuse cursed when a few aimed at the glass doors and windows. Wood splintered, glass shattered, including objects and furniture inside. Within seconds of firing, four cruisers, lights and sirens blaring, flew at the intruders from different directions.
Fuse and the others didn’t speak. Several of the gang members fell to the ground, shooting at the cars, continuing to fire, even as their ammunition had no effect on the bulletproof glass. As they stood to run, Mitch’s men opened their doors, picking them off one-by-one.
An unexpected explosion lit the sky near the farm road. “Mitch’s shooters must’ve hit the gas tank in one of the trucks.” Fuse moved his gaze to where three SUVs, all with the sheriff department insignia, barreled into the front and back yards.
“Sonofabitch.” Wrath’s curse pulsed through their comm units. “Ethan and his men are onsite.”
“We shouldn’t interfere,” Deke replied. “Mitch’s men and Ethan’s can be identified.”
“But my brother’s men aren’t in tactical gear. The damn sonofabitch. I should never have given him a heads up.”
Those at the safe house looked at each other in stunned surprise. Wrath hadn’t warned them Ethan knew of their plan.
“Hell, if it had been my brother, I’d have done the same.” Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face. “As the sheriff, they would’ve responded to the sirens anyway. Probably already had several neighbors flood their phone lines. This way, Ethan and his men were prepared.”
Mitch’s men left the cover of their cruisers to move toward the retreating assailants, firing, hitting a few more before they disappeared into the cover of the underbrush. Ethan and his men exited their SUVs.
“Hold on.” Fuse studied Ethan and his men. “They’re in combat gear.”
They watched as a few of Mitch’s men rounded up bodies and the wounded, placing them near Ethan’s SUV. The others followed Viktor and Vulture’s men, firing a few more rounds before three trucks roared away.
Ethan called off his men, stopping them from following. He counted four dead and four injured from both groups. He saw one of his deputies was calling for EMTs. Unable to stop himself, Ethan grabbed one of the injured, yanking him by his injured arm.
“Who do you work for?”
The man’s glassy eyes met Ethan’s, his mouth forming a sneer. “Отвянь,” he choked out.
“Russian,” Ethan said in disgust.
One of Mitch’s men stood next to him. “He told you to fuck off.”
“You speak the language?”
The man shrugged. “Enough to get by.” He bent down, lifting the wounded man’s shirt to reveal tats over his stomach and chest. “Definitely one of Viktor’s men.”
Checking the other three wounded men, they found all were Devils.
Ethan recognized one. “Slider. It’s good to see you again.”
Instead of answering, he turned his head away, closing his eyes.
Glaring down at him, Ethan settled fisted hands on his hips, looking up as two EMS vehicles drove into the back