Chapter 15 - The Ambush in the Kitchen
The hammer struck the first man’s shoulder with a sickening, hollow thud. The intruder grunted, his flashlight tumbling across the linoleum, casting wild reflections against the kitchen cabinets. He collapsed against the island, clutching his shattered collarbone.
The second man reacted with terrifying speed. He spun around, drawing a short, suppressed pistol from his waistband.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He tackled the second man around the waist, slamming him against the refrigerator with enough force to dent the stainless-steel door. The gun discharged with a muffled *thwip*, the round tearing through the drywall an inch above Daniel’s ear, spraying plaster dust into his eyes.
Daniel drove his knee into the man’s groin. The intruder gasped, his grip on the weapon loosening. Daniel seized the man’s wrist, smashing it repeatedly against the corner of the granite counter until the firearm skittered across the floor, sliding beneath the dining room sideboard.
"Who sent you?" Daniel hissed, pinning the man’s neck against the floor with his forearm, his chest heaving, blood from a plaster scratch dripping down his cheek. "Was it Vanessa? Who is paying the firm?"
The man smiled through teeth stained with crimson. "You’re already out of time, Daniel. Check your perimeter."
A sudden blinding beam of halogen light burst through the shattered patio doors, accompanied by the high-pitched shriek of a car alarm.
It wasn't police sirens. It was Mara’s heavy-duty farm truck.
Mara had driven her Ford F-250 straight across Daniel’s manicured front lawn, crushing the ornamental flower beds, and had rammed the white utility van pinned against the driveway curb. The deafening crunch of crumpling metal echoed down the quiet street, waking the entire neighborhood.
Mara jumped out of the driver’s seat holding a high-powered marine flare. She ignited it with a hiss, filling the driveway with an angry, blinding scarlet flare, smoke billowing into the sky.
"GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!" Mara screamed at the top of her lungs, banging on a metal pan to draw every eye in the neighborhood. "FIRE! BURGLARY! CALL THE SHERIFF!"
Windows across the street began flicking on one by one. Porch lights illuminated the block. Dogs barked in a rising chorus of alarm.
The intruder under Daniel’s grip shoved him off with frantic desperation, scrambling toward the open back patio. The first man, nursing his ruined shoulder, stumbled after him into the darkness of the woods bordering the property.
Daniel didn't chase them. He sprinted back up the stairs, taking them three at a time. "Lily!"
The closet door opened immediately. Lily stood there, her face white as bone, but her jaw set firm. She didn't cry. She reached out and took his bloody hand.
"They came back for the bucket, didn't they?" she whispered.
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"No," Daniel pulled her into his chest, holding her tight against the rapid drumming of his heart. "They came back because they’re terrified of what you have to say."
***
