Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I looked over the array of guns at my side. I was ready for the Vance brothers.
Damn it, where’s my phone?
I stood and dug through my pockets—nothing. I looked on the kitchen counter—not there. The realization came over me that I’d probably left it in my car when I raced inside to get Bandit. I headed to the front door and stopped dead in my tracks. The screen on the monitor next to my TV was black.
What the hell?
I raced down the hall to my bedroom. That monitor was dark too. Black screens on both couldn’t be a coincidence. The brothers had arrived and cut the camera feed from the box leading into the house. I was literally in the dark as far as seeing where they were, and I couldn’t call for help. Back in the living room, I dimmed the lights and peered out between the slats in the blinds. I didn’t see anyone or the Porsche they’d been driving. I ran to the kitchen and closed the blinds over the sink. Ever so slightly, I moved one of the vertical blind slats on the patio doors and looked out over the deck—nobody.
Are they really here, or is it just a malfunction with the system? Damn it, I have to know.
I tiptoed from room to room and looked out every window but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I was sure my imagination was getting the best of me. They weren’t there, so I still had time to run out and grab my phone.
With one more glance at the monitor, I walked to the door. With my hand on the knob and about to turn it, I heard a sound outside that made me freeze in place. Somebody was on the porch. There was no denying it. After slinking back to the window, I peeked out, but the shrubs blocked my view. I couldn’t see anything at the door.
Shit! My doorbell app is on my phone. How am I supposed to see who’s sneaking around at the door?
I squeezed my eyes closed as I tried to think.
“Wait! My tablet is synced to my phone. I’ll be able to see the doorbell camera view on there.”
I pulled open the top bookcase drawer, grabbed my tablet, and powered it up. I pressed my ear against the door and listened again. It was quiet. Lifting the slat slightly on the living room blinds, I looked out and saw nothing.
Damn it. I need the upper hand with those two, or I won’t have a fighting chance. They have to be armed as well as me, or better.
Glancing back at my tablet, I saw that there was only a sliver of battery power left. “Come on. Give me a break here.” I rifled through the drawer again and found the charger. I plugged in the tablet and fired up the doorbell camera app. Seconds later, the front porch and beyond came into view. Cars were passing by, and then, slinking along the wall and coming to the door was Curt. His hair was different—darker and likely dyed as a way to disguise his identity—but I knew it was him. He couldn’t change his face. I whispered my disgust. “You son of a bitch. Now where is your piece of shit brother?”
I tiptoed closer to the door, and my ears perked at the sound only a foot in front of me. Looking at the doorknob, I saw it turning. It was my only chance to catch him off guard. I needed both hands to pull him off balance and slam the door behind him. I holstered my gun and prayed things would work out in my favor, then I slowly turned the dead bolt and yanked the door inward.
Curt stumbled forward and fell to his knees which gave me just enough time to close the door and lock it. I saw the pistol in his hand as he got his feet beneath him, but I kicked it before he could get a bead on me, and it spun across the tiled entryway. Curt leapt to his feet and swung. I ducked and delivered a blow to his jaw. Rushing me, he shouldered me into the door and pressed his hefty forearm across my throat. I stomped his foot with everything I had. He was an equal match or better and likely had thirty pounds on me—and another few inches in height. With only a second before he regained his composure, I swung and connected with his nose. Blood sprayed across his face and speckled the wall. Curt charged me again, and we crashed into the foyer table at my back. We both went down hard.
I heard the front door being kicked, and it wouldn’t be long before John broke through. I found myself behind Curt with only a second to react before he overpowered me. With my arm around his neck, keeping him in a choke hold, I squeezed with all my might.
The crashing sound at the patio slider caught me by surprise. Glass blew inward and covered a good fifteen feet of the floor, even with the vertical blinds drawn. The elder Vance stormed in and was headed my way. I had just enough time to draw my gun.
“Not another step! Drop your weapon, or I’ll shoot Curt right here, right now!”
John laughed as he continued toward me. “You won’t kill an unarmed man in cold blood. You’re a cop!”
“I said to stop and drop the weapon, now!”
Curt grunted out to John. “Just kill him. Shoot the son of a bitch in the head.”
“You’re in the way, brother, but I’m not backing down. You killed Jake, McCord, and you deserve to die!”
“After you.”
John looked at me and then at Curt. I could see his wheels spinning, and he was about to make a move. I held the barrel of my gun against Curt’s temple, wishing that our plan had played out last night.
“You wearing a vest, cop?”
I remained steadfast, with my arm cutting off Curt’s air supply and I felt him losing strength against me.
John tipped his head and smiled. “I take the fact that you didn’t respond as a no.” He looked at Curt again. “Sorry, bro, but it’s every man for himself. I have to do right by Jake, even if it’s at your expense.”
I yelled out, but it was over within a second. John had blown a hole right through his brother’s heart, and the slug hit my vest. I felt like I had been punched by a heavyweight boxer. I had less than a second to react as he put the bead on me. I pulled the trigger and shot him center mass. John Vance crashed to the floor like a boat anchor. Pushing Curt’s dead body off me, I got to my feet, still sucking in much-needed air, and rushed John. I kicked the gun away and stood over him with my gun pointing at his head.
Muttering something about me being a piece of shit, he gasped and gurgled a few times as blood seeped out of his mouth. His movements stopped, his eyes remained open and fixed, and his body went limp. I knelt, put my fingers against his neck, and felt for a pulse—there wasn’t one. Both Vance brothers lay dead on my living room floor. I sat on the couch and took in what had just happened. They were larger than life and evil to the core, but as I stared at their bodies, they were just dead criminals. I was glad it was over. They would never run a drug cartel or kill again and they’d gotten what they deserved. I stood, still shaking, and walked outside. The neighborhood looked as peaceful and safe as it had prior to last week. We would get to that place again; I’d make sure of it. I stumbled to the car and picked up my phone from the cup holder, then I called Lutz.