Colton Christmas Protector (The Coltons of Texas #12)(72)

After getting the tire iron from the trunk, he abandoned the Range Rover and jogged the rest of the way, staying hidden in the tree line until he got close enough to dart behind the garage. He didn’t want the gunmen to hear the motor and give away his approach. His plan depended on the element of surprise. On stealth.

Tire iron clutched in his hand, he crept along the back wall of the garage, then peered carefully around the corner. He could see the man in the kitchen through the glass inset of the mudroom door. Moving quickly in a crouch, he repositioned himself just outside that door, his back against the wall. Taking a deep breath and sending up a silent prayer for success, he eased the door open and sneaked inside. Waited for the gunman in the kitchen to turn his back to the door. And swung the tire iron onto the thug’s head.

The man dropped like a rock. One down, two to go.





Chapter 19

A loud thump sounded in the kitchen, rousing Pen from her mental strategizing.

Greg, who’d been staring out the plate-glass door to the back patio, whipped his head around and scowled darkly. “What was that?”

Lenny shrugged. “Marcus?” he called to the next room. “What’s going on in there?”

Marcus didn’t answer.

Pen’s pulse picked up, and she scooted farther to the edge of the couch.

Lenny swung his gun toward her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I—” she swallowed hard “—just wanted to check on my son in the guest room.” She spoke as loudly as she dared, not wanting to either wake Nicholas or tip off the men to what she hoped was true. But if Reid had found his way back to the house, in case he didn’t know what he was walking into, she wanted to signal him some way. Please, God.

Lenny shook his head. “Naw. Sit your ass back down.” Then quietly to Greg, “Watch her. I’m going to check the kitchen.”

After giving the lawn and outbuildings a more careful scrutiny, Greg moved away from the window and withdrew a small gun from his boot.

Pen hovered on the edge of the sofa. Waiting. Listening. Preparing.

In the tense silence, as Lenny sidled toward the kitchen, the boughs of the Christmas tree swayed and the metal ornaments and bell decorations tinkled quietly.

Lenny shot a confused glance at the tree. “Who’s there?”

Penelope searched deep in the branches and spied the orange kitten climbing from one limb to another, swatting dangling lights and glittery balls.

And in her next breath, Reid was there, surging out of the kitchen and wrapping an arm around Lenny’s neck.

*

Reid seized the split second of distraction to put the nearest gunman in a wrestler’s hold. With a sweep of his leg against his opponent’s, he brought the man down on the floor. Before he could aim the weapon he’d lifted from the now-unconscious man in the kitchen, the guy’s cohort countered Reid’s leg sweep. The man’s move dragged Reid off balance and flipped him to the floor, as well. The impact as he landed forced the air from his lungs, and the gun was jarred from his grip. He gasped for a breath, while scrambling to right himself, trying to disarm the thug.

“Reid!” Pen cried.

His opponent wrenched free, and as Reid climbed to his feet, the gunman grabbed Reid’s arm and thrust him against the wall. He felt the cool muzzle jam into one ear while the thug’s warm breath hissed in his other. “Well, looky what we have here. We’ve been waiting for you, Colton.”

*

As soon as Reid burst into the room, Penelope had surged to her feet. Only to be met by Greg’s gun in her face and his steely hand banding her upper arm.

“Don’t,” he warned in a low but menacing tone.

While her initial kidnapping and the danger to Nicholas had shocked and chilled her to the bone, Penelope had since had time to stew on the situation, and anger simmered just beneath the surface. How dare these punks put her son in danger? How dare her father be so callous as to sign off on her execution for his own selfish gain?

But watching Reid—a man who’d gone out of his way to help her, a man who’d given years to the Dallas PD to protect and serve...a man she loved—slammed against the wall and held at gunpoint made her see red.

Gritting her teeth, she snarled at Greg, “Get your hands off me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’ll pay for this. There’s no way you walk away from this free and clear.”

His expression faltered for a split second, then hardened. His grip tightened on her arm, and pain slithered down her arm and to her shoulder. “Shut. The hell. Up.”

“Do as he says, Pen,” Reid said, and stunned at his defeatist suggestion, she angled a look across the room. But the look he gave her was anything but defeated. He might be shoved up to the wall with a gun at his head, but she knew Reid was far from finished with these thugs.

*

“On your knees, rich boy,” the jerk behind Reid growled.

“Bite me,” he returned. No way in hell would he bend to these SOBs. He would spend his last breath fighting to save Pen and Nicholas.

The retort earned him a smack to the side of the head, and Penelope gasped her outrage.

Reid shook off the ear-ringing blow and waited. At any time, an opportunity, a distraction, a split second shift in advantage could come, and he intended to be ready.