Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(91)

“You think they’ve been stealing stuff from your guys?” Wes asked.

“Good chance.” Mack watched with a murderous expression on his face. “Probably who dropped a cigarette butt and murdered a deer last week.”

Wes swallowed, his stomach rolling with revulsion at that mental image. “So someone’s what? Trying to scare you off?”

“Maybe. Don’t know why. We’re in the middle of fuck-all out here.” Mack used his own phone’s zoom to see closer. “Can’t tell if they’re armed.”

“Armed?” Wes shivered. “I’m getting a little freaked out here.”

“You? You’re gonna be fighting zombies next month.”

“Fake zombies. Those men are real. What do you want to do? You’re the cop.”

Mack grunted. “Not for a long time, and I don’t have a—oh shit.”

“What?”

“Stay put.” Mack ducked down and scooted over to the closed bathroom door. Used a key to open it, then ducked inside.

Wes couldn’t help wondering a) why he locked the bathroom, and b) what he could possibly find in there that was useful. They couldn’t very well tie the trespassers up with toilet paper.

Mack exited with a shotgun in his hands. Wes waited until Mack was by his side to ask, “Why do you keep a shotgun in your bathroom?”

“No one will find it there. It’s just in case we need it. There are wild animals out here.”

“No kidding.” The hair on the back of Wes’s neck prickled. “You’re not going out there.”

They both looked at Wes’s phone. The men were still crouched, their backs to the camera. “You said it,” Mack whispered. “I’m the cop.”

“If you get yourself killed, I will never forgive you.”

Mack winked. “Better not get myself killed, then.”

“Ha ha.” Fine for Mack to be so fucking calm about this when Wes wanted to vibrate out of his own skin. His stomach quaked.

A flash of orange on his phone caught their attention. Fire. The blacksmith shed was on fire!

“Shit,” Mack snarled.

He flung himself toward the door and was outside in seconds, bellowing for the men to put their hands up. Wes was rooted in place, filming the whole thing, too scared to move or speak. His heart was lodged in his throat, and he could barely keep the phone still enough to record everything in focus.

One of the two men spun around, his hand raised. A gun. He had a fucking gun. He fired the fucking gun at Mack, who ducked and rolled. The shot blasted through the window in a burst of smashing glass and noise. Wes shrieked and ducked down low, his bladder threatening release.

Be careful, Mack, please. I need you.

*

Mack hit the dirt and came up on one knee, shotgun aimed at the gunman’s legs. Training said go for a bigger target like the chest, but he wanted these assholes alive. He aimed and fired, and the gunman hit the ground screaming. Hugging his wounded leg.

The second man produced a handgun. Mack inwardly groaned. He bolted toward the protection of the side of the trailer, making it there on the soundtrack of three quick shots. Adrenaline hit him hard, making his senses clearer. His sight sharper. With his back to the trailer wall, Mack peeked around, only for a bullet to chip at the trailer’s corner.

I’m gonna owe for this. Fuckers.

Trusting Wes to stay down now that shooting had begun, Mack swung his shotgun around the corner, eye at the sight to find...no one. Both men had disappeared.

“Fuck.”

Shotgun still raised, Mack bolted for the next available cover—two walls of what had once been, according to Avery, a small church for the old Sunday crowd. Mack crept to the edge of the cover, rustling and cursing coming from his left, the crackling of the fire on his right. The blacksmith shed was slowly catching, one entire wall almost entirely ablaze. His gut ached at the sight of his favorite building in flames.

He peeked around the side of the old church wall and caught a glimpse of Gunman Two helping Gunman One limp away, not making very good time.

“On your four!”

Colt’s voice nearly made Mack drop his own gun, but no, there he was, running straight up the center of town with his own shotgun raised. Mack had no time or inclination to question his presence, because Gunman Two turned and fired twice at Colt. Colt expertly dodged, using his SWAT training to find cover and avoid enemy fire.

He met Colt’s gaze across the road. These guys weren’t getting away. Mack used hand signals from the old days, then nodded. Colt nodded back, before he disappeared behind the saloon. Mack kept to the rear of the church, using every bit of cover he could find so they could get ahead of their targets.

At the far west end of the town, where they’d marked the foundations for new buildings but had little cover, Mack spotted an ATV in the distance, almost hidden by a clump of bushes. He thought he’d heard the rumble of an engine while they were transitioning from outside to the office, but he told himself he was imaging it. If their targets got to the ATV...

Cover had ended on Colt’s side of town. Mack spotted a flash of blond hair in the same moment Gunman One raised his handgun. Mack aimed and fired, hitting the gun and making Gunman One shriek in pain. Gunman Two dropped him and started running toward the ATV. Mack cracked his gun open to switch shells.