Page 32 of Lone Star Protector

Oh, God.

The glass wasn’t going to hold.

Her anger was still there. Mercy, was it. But she also didn’t want Nash or Slade hurt because their idiot brother was trying to kill her.

“The gunman’s in a tree at the back of your property, just inside the fence,” Slade spelled out, and he motioned toward the spot on the monitor to show the position.

Caroline couldn’t actually see anyone. Not at first anyway. Then the morning sun glinted off the barrel of a rifle.

A third shot came, slamming into the spot where the first two had landed.

“He’s using armor-piercing bullets,” Nash said. He looked at her and added, “When the glass stops the outer shell, there’s an internal projectile that continues into the target.”

Slade took up the rest of the explanation. “Yeah, and my guess is when the gunman creates a hole, he’s going to send something else through. Maybe tear gas. Maybe something more lethal.”

That didn’t help her galloping heartbeat or the tight pressure in her chest that was vising her lungs and making it hard to breathe. And it caused another wave of guilt to wash over her. Bodie could kill his brothers to get to her.

“Maybe it’s time for me to be that bait,” she suggested.

“No,” Nash and Slade said in unison.

Nash spared her another glance, one that told her there was nothing she could say or do to convince him to save Slade and himself. The bullets didn’t convince him either. Not the fourth one. Not the fifth either.

And the shots just kept on coming.

“Oz, alert Ruby and 911 of the attack. Continue to monitor the security feed and report any movement of the intruder to me,” Nash instructed while he went into the mudroom and brought back Kevlar vests and some more guns. He tossed one of the vests to her. “I’ll be monitoring the feed on my phone.”

“From where?” she asked while she put on the vest.

“In Slade’s van,” Nash provided, donning his own vest. “There’s more room in it than my SUV, and you’ll be flat down in the back while Slade drives us through the pasture toward this asshole.”

Caroline was sure she blinked because she certainly hadn’t expected him to say that. “We’re going to the shooter?” she had to ask.

“We’re going to the shooter,” Nash confirmed. “I’m not leaving you here where he could send some dangerous shit through that window. Let’s move.”

They did. Just as another shot tore through the glass, leaving a jagged plate-sized hole. Nash didn’t wait around to see what the shooter would be sending through it. They just hurried into the garage.

The moment they were all inside the van and she was on the floor in the back, Nash used a voice command to open the garage door and he took off, practically flying backwards as he reversed out.

There were no windows in the back of the van which meant Caroline couldn’t see squat. She figured though that bullets would have a harder time getting through the metal sides than the glass. So, she was a lot more protected than Nash and Slade were since their only buffer was the windshield. It was probably bullet-resistant, but she’d just seen that wasn’t a surefire way to keep from being shot.

Even though they were no longer in the garage, she could still hear the sound of gunfire behind them, a barrage now that was no doubt tearing its way through the rest of the living room window.

“I’m going faster,” Slade muttered. “Just in case the shooter’s about to fire an explosive into the house.”

Oh, God. She hadn’t considered that. But she should have after what’d happened to her own place. Not an explosive there, of course, but she figured there was a possibly that whatever came flying through the window could do just as much damage.

“What happens when we get closer to the shooter?” Caroline had to ask.

“Slade stops. I get out and use the van door for cover, and I give this asshole a taste of his own medicine,” Nash said.

Her head whipped up enough so she could see he had his attention pinned to his phone, where he was no doubt watching the security feed.

“The vest won’t protect you from a headshot,” she said, using what he’d told her when they’d been under attack back at her place.

Nash glanced back at her. “I’ll take a calculated risk.”

“We both will,” Slade volunteered. “Because I’ll be doing the same on the driver’s side. I doubt the shooter will be firing much if he had two sets of ammo coming right at him.”

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