Page 89 of Long Road Home

Kenna clenched her teeth and went for the weapons bag instead.

“He’s alive. Whoever is shooting, they just winged his arm.”

Pilsborough said, “Copy that.” He had crawled to the front window on the other side of the door and lifted up far enough to peer over the bottom windowsill. “It’s that SUV. I count at least three guys.”

Destain had chili all over his shirt and didn’t look happy about it.

“You guys keep Jim safe.” Kenna had a score to settle.

She flipped the latches on the weapon case and pulled out a pistol, loaded it, and stuffed an extra clip in her pocket. The duffel beside it had her gloves on top. She tugged on a hat as well, then grabbed her jacket from where the chair had fallen over onto the floor.

She crawled to the bedroom corner, and through the bathroom to another room behind it, which doubled as a mudroom and rear exit.

Out of sight of whoever was in front shooting at them, Kenna zipped up her coat and took a long breath to steady herself. Adrenaline wasn’t always a friend. Sometimes it made you move first before thinking, or shake when you needed to be steady. Plus, these days she had the Lord on her side. She could rely on Him instead of what she was capable of.

Go before me.

She unlocked the deadbolts on the door and eased it open, praying it wouldn’t creak. Never mind. That wasn’t on the table as an option. She peered out but didn’t see anyone.

Visibility was awful. Snow swirled around in thick flurries like a tornado, whipped by the wind. She winced against the icy wet breeze that hit her face. Fog gathered between the trees, creating haze anyone with sense would hide in.

Now or never.

She checked again, saw no one, and went to the backcorner. Peered around, still saw no one. Checked behind her. Gun up, ready.

Kenna went to the front corner and spotted the shooter by the open passenger door, the rifle resting on the bottom edge of the open window. She squeezed off a shot that would’ve hit the window if it were rolled up. It slammed into his center mass.

She swung with her arms, around to the nearest gunman.

Another squeeze. She hit him before he could aim. His shot at her, where he’d turned to where her shot came from, went wide.Thank You.She wasn’t sure God would ever condone taking a life—or if heshould—but that was a big debate she could worry about later.

A shot from inside hit the third man.

The fourth kicked the front door in and headed inside the cabin.

Kenna stumbled as she raced across the snow. Ignoring the cold wetness soaking into her pants above her boots, she squared up on the door, shoulder to the frame on one side. She looked first, then swung in with her gun up.

Blinked.

Pilsborough stood watching. Jax used a towel to apply pressure on the inmate’s arm.

Destain grunted. He rolled, holding on to the gunman. They punched each other and grappled, then slammed into a chair, knocking it over. A fork clattered across the floor, and then the man’s pistol.

Kenna checked outside again. “I think we’re clear. If you’re done.”

Destain cried out. He lifted the guy’s shoulders and slammed the back of his head on the floor. “Now I am.” He lifted up, one knee bent in a lunge, and turned to them. “I’mnot dirty.”

Kenna held up her hands. Right, the gun. She tucked it in the back of her belt. “Maybe the not-dirty marshals could tie up this guy and check the rest of his friends are dead.” She strode around the couch and crouched beside Jim.

Jax was on the other side, looking concerned.

She asked Jim, “What’s new?”

Jim opened his eyes and groaned. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Kenna grinned, not quite able to laugh right now. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

Jax nodded. “It’s not life-threatening, but he’s losing a lot of blood.”

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