Page 15 of Lone Star Witness

She got just a glimpse of the tall security gate and the lights glistening off the water when she saw the figure step out from behind the sign. A man dressed head to toe in black.

He immediately lifted a gun.

And he fired right at them.

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Chapter Five

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Slade barely managed to catch a glimpse of the guy before the shots started.

Not one bullet either but a barrage of them, all slamming into the windshield of the van. The glass was bullet resistant, but that didn’t mean shots wouldn’t get through, especially since the gunfire was already cracking the outer coating of the safety glass, making it look like a giant spiderweb.

Slade took hold of Marise’s shoulder and shoved her down. “Get all the way on the floor,” he ordered.

He drew his backup gun from his boot holster. It was more a reflex action and instinct than it was a useful move. After all, his shots wouldn’t easily get through the glass to the gunman.

“Spock, call 911,” he told his AI app. An app that had been designed to help with all facets of an investigation, including arranging for help.

Slade knew there was little chance that cops would arrive in time to put a stop to this, but he’d wanted them alerted anyway in case the gunfire hit any innocent bystanders.

Thankfully, Pearl Bluff Estates didn’t have a lot of permanent residents. Most houses were vacation properties. Still, that didn’t mean someone couldn’t be out and about and get shot by mistake.

More shots came, all of them slamming into the spot right in front of Slade. He moved over further in the seat just in case one of the bullets managed to get through.

“Is it your father?” Marise asked.

Slade heard the edge in her voice. Not panic. Not yet anyway, but it was possible the gunfire could trigger it. That’s what happened when you’d been dealt some shitty hands while in uniform.

“I’m not sure if it’s Sonny,” Slade let her know. “The shooter’s wearing a ski mask.”

The guy was a coward though because he fired, ducked back behind the cover of the stone sign, and repeated the moves. Each shot was tearing its way through the glass, and Slade needed to do something about that now.

“Spock, use the dash cam to get lots of pictures of the person firing those shots,” Slade added. Because even without being able to see his face, the pictures might prove this was Sonny.

Even though he wanted to protect Marise and get her the hell out of here, he didn’t want to drive off and leave an active shooter. The guy could continue the gunfire and take out someone on the road. So, Slade threw the van into reverse, backing up a good twenty feet.

And he gunned the engine.

Speeding straight toward the SOB.

Judging from the tensing of his body, the guy had an Oh, crap moment where he scrambled to get back behind the cover of the sign. Slade didn’t waste a second backing up again, ready to repeat the process until he either ran the idiot over or he gave up and tried to escape. Probably in that dark blue truck that was next to the sign.

It was hard for Slade to see because of the now fractured glass, but he pinned his attention to the sign. However, the guy didn’t come out from his usual spot.

He darted out on the other side.

And he fired.

This shot went into the window just above Marise’s head. Before the sonofabitch jumped back behind the stone.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered, and the panic was coming.

“Breathe slowly, in and out,” he instructed. “Tell me six things you smell.”

She attempted the breathing first, but it sure as heck wasn’t coming out slowly. It was coming out in gusts. “Gunfire, gunfire, gunfire. That’s what I smell.”

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