Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(44)

Her baby in grave danger. Evelyn and Travis, too.

With tremendous effort, she came back to herself.

Hannah forced the broken slider open.

Ghost leapt through the slider. With a great booming bark that shook the night, he surged inside.

Heart in her throat, Hannah ran after him.

Through the darkened living room. Bumped into the sofa, knocking over an end table. Nearly tripped, but she stumbled to her feet and raced toward the pitch-black hallway.

No thought for stealth. Only speed. Sheer panic drove her on.

Ghost’s savage barking echoed off the hallway walls and rang in her ears. He shot down the hall, a flare of bright white flame, and burst into the doorway to L.J.’s room.

Hannah scrambled into the room, gun up, pulse roaring.

Heavy shadows were everywhere. The dark shape of the crib. Window on the far wall. Dresser beside the closet door.

Movement to her left.

The flash of a knife.

A human-shaped shadow lunged out of the darkness.

Hannah’s heart seized. Panic nailed her to the floor.

A flurry of white erupted. Ghost flung himself at the shadow, growling, snarling, jaws snapping with savage fury.

One hundred and forty pounds of solid mass barreled into human flesh, knocking the assailant backward into the crib. Two forms writhing, grappling with each other. A crash and a thud.

The assailant shrieked. The sound cut off abruptly by a wet crunch. Wrenching and tearing. Mangled cries.

Ghost crouched atop the fallen figure, ripping his throat from his body.

From the crib, an infant’s incensed cry rang out. For a second, she thought it was Charlotte. Then she recognized L.J.’s scratchy wail.

She started for the crib, her only thought for her baby.

“Don’t move!” a gravelly voice said.

A second assailant stood in front of the window. A dark hulking figure, dressed in black, his shape bulky with tactical gear.

Ten feet away.

A bundle squirmed in his arms. Charlotte.

The bundle shifted to the left as he adjusted his hold, clutching the child in one arm. Charlotte squealed in protest. The glint of a muzzle barrel rose toward Hannah.

Time slowed.

No time to think. To weigh the pros and cons. Evaluate the risks.

If she didn’t act, she was dead, and Charlotte gone.

She acted.

Hannah lifted the .45 with both hands. Braced the butt with her bad hand. Aimed to the right of center mass, exhaled, and squeezed.

The pistol bucked in her hands. The shot exploded in her ears.

The assailant jerked. He yelled a ragged curse. Charlotte and L.J. screamed louder.

Instinct and training took over. She lowered slightly and fired again.

His body spun to the right. With a thud, the bundle in his arm dropped to the carpeted floor.

Hannah flinched. Her mind screamed in fear and outrage, but she kept her focus. Fired a third time, aiming for his pelvis below his body armor.

He stumbled backward. He lost his footing and smacked into the wall, then sagged beneath the window.

Sounds came from behind her. Muffled and distant. Raised voices, cries of alarm.

Someone shouted something. Words that made no sense. Her ears rang.

Light bobbed along the hallway, bathing the nursery in flaring shadows. Dimly, she sensed Evelyn and Travis crowding into the doorway behind her.

Every fiber of her being longed to rush to her child, but she couldn’t. Not yet. She couldn’t focus on anything but eliminating the threat.

She knew better than to turn her back on a wounded animal. Especially the human kind.

She strode toward the assailant and loomed over him. Blood leaked from his right shoulder. It pooled beneath him from a hole in his groin.

He twisted away from her, cursing and gasping. He crawled, scrabbling along the floor in search of his weapon. It fell when he’d dropped her daughter.

She kicked it away.

He looked up at her, expression twisted in pain and hatred. Coal-black eyes, narrow cheekbones, grizzled beard. “You little b—”

Hannah planted her feet and aimed between his eyes. “No one messes with my family!”





30





Hannah





Day One Hundred and Ten





“Wait!” Liam’s voice thundered through the nursery. He shouldered into the room and sprinted to her side, Bishop right behind him. “Don’t shoot him!”

Hannah hesitated.

Bishop trained his Heckler and Koch .45 with the extended suppression barrel at the assailant.

Liam put a firm hand on her forearm and lowered her pistol. “We need him alive.”

She stood, swaying on her feet. Blinking and uncertain. Her pulse a roar in her ears. “But I have to—”

“I’ll do it, Hannah.” Still holding the Glock, he grasped her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “It’s over. We’ll take it from here.”

She nodded dully. It took three tries to flick on the safety and slip the .45 into her pajama pocket.

Someone had brought in a lantern. Liam? Or Travis? She didn’t know.

“Charlotte and L.J.?” Liam asked tersely.

“L.J.’s fine,” Travis said. “We need to check Charlotte. Hannah saved her from that dirtbag.”

“And Milo?” Liam asked.