Page 57 of Breaking Rules

“Police! Hands where I can see them!”

Chaos erupted. Shouts, scuffling, the unmistakable bang of gunshots. Sam and Jo dove for cover behind a cabinet as splinters flew.

“Drop your weapons!” Jo yelled, her voice steady.

Across the room, Kevin and Wyatt burst through the back door. More shots.

The thug swung his gun toward them, cool and calculating.

Sam’s heart pounded. He risked a glance around the cabinet. Hartman struggled against his bonds, chair scraping the floor. Rickman, a cruel sneer on his face, had his gun leveled at Jo.

Lucy growled, hackles raised, ready to spring. Sam’s breath caught. In a standoff like this, one wrong move...

He met Kevin’s gaze, a split-second decision. They had to end this, fast, before things spiraled out of control.

But then came the unexpected. Hartman made his move.

The scene unfolded in slow motion. Lucy coiled, ready to spring. Kevin’s finger tightened on the trigger. But before either could act, Hartman sprang into action.

With a grunt of effort, Hartman surged to his feet, the chair still tied to his back. He lunged, slamming into the thug with the full force of his weight.

The two men crashed to the floor, a tangle of limbs and splintered wood. The minion’s gun skittered across the floorboards, spinning out of reach.

“Gun!” Sam barked.

Wyatt, quick as a cat, dove for the weapon. His fingers closed around the grip, and he rolled, coming up in a crouch, the gun trained on the struggling men.

Sam kept his sights locked on Rickman, heart pounding. The man’s face was a mask of fury, his own gun still leveled at the room.

But Rickman didn’t shoot. Instead, he turned and bolted for the back door.

“He’s running!” Jo shouted.

Sam cursed under his breath. They couldn’t let Rickman escape. Not now, not when they were so close.

“Kevin, Wyatt, secure the scene,” he ordered. “Jo, with me. We’re going after Rickman.”

Lucy, hackles still raised, fell into step beside them as they raced out the back, hot on Rickman’s heels.

Sam’s lungs burned as he ran, Jo at his side, Lucy rushing ahead. Rickman was fast for an older man, his desperation fueling his speed.

Low brush whipped at Sam’s legs as branches snatched at his clothes. The forest was a blur of green and brown, the ground uneven beneath his feet.

“Where’s he going?” Jo panted, her words punctuated by ragged breaths.

Sam’s mind raced. The property backed onto the cliff, he remembered. But surely, Rickman wouldn’t...

A sickening realization hit him. “The cliff,” he managed, his voice tight. “He’s heading for the cliff.”

They burst from the tree line, the sudden brightness of the open air momentarily blinding. Sam blinked, his eyes adjusting.

The view was breathtaking: a vast expanse of sky, the valley stretching out below like a painted canvas. But there, at the edge, was Rickman.

Sam’s heart stopped. The cliff’s edge was a jagged thing, all sharp rocks and crumbling earth. It was a long, steep drop to the winding river below, the water churning and frothing over boulders.

Rickman stood at the precipice, his chest heaving. He glanced back, his eyes wild.

“Rickman!” Sam shouted, his hand outstretched. “Don’t do it. There’s nowhere to go.”

---