Page 26 of A Mile of Ocean

Tate motioned for the dogs to follow her as she turned to go to bed. As Locke and Lotus trotted up the stairs, she couldn’t shake that odd feeling that something wasn’t right. “Wouldn’t you have a better vantage point from an upstairs window, say from the third floor? We have a small third-floor attic that was once an office. But there’s plenty of room there for you to set up.”

“Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Suit yourself,” Tate stated as she ascended the stairs. Reluctant to go back to her house, she’d rather spend thenight under her grandmother’s roof than stay by herself. She might feel different in a couple of days. She might even take the dogs with her when she returned home. But her priority right now was to feel safe. And she couldn’t do that at home alone.

Across the compound, in the fading light, Trent stood on the back deck, his gaze fixed on the eastern pasture. Somewhere out there, hidden in the shadows, was the answer to the nightmare that had shattered their peace. He vowed to find it, no matter the cost. The next few days would be crucial, and he was determined to protect his family and home.

His thoughts drifted to Savannah. Her compassion and understanding provided a much-needed break from the overwhelming to-do list. Trent found she was easy to talk to in ways he hadn’t anticipated, finding solace in their shared moments in the garden, even sharing a meal.

He couldn’t deny the connection he felt to her. Because deep inside, he had to admit he looked forward to the next time he would see her.

Chapter Seven

The rest of the security team fanned out to their designated positions, Hawk driving the golf cart to the eastern border. Stationed on higher ground, the air was thick with anticipation, each man alert and ready. The silence was broken only by the frogs serenading each other and the crickets coming out to play.

As the night drew on, the team remained vigilant, their equipment scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The ranch, usually a place of warmth and comfort, had become their battleground, and they were ready for whatever came next.

But they only thought they were prepared for battle.

Around midnight, Hawk spotted flames coming from the golf cart. Before he could extinguish the blaze, behind them to the west, the woodshed exploded several hundred feet from the main house. The explosion shocked the compound, waking everyone from the bunkhouse to the main house.

Sitting on the porch guarding the house, Trent sprang to his feet at the sound of the explosion. He raced outside toward the source of the commotion, his mind ticking off a whirlwind of actions. He metToby and Montyon the pathway, wheeling the portable water tank closer to the fire from the barn. Behind them stood Cecil, aiming a fire extinguisher at the blaze, while Woody instructed Brock and Blake to start a bucket brigade using the nearest pond as a water source.

A second explosion had them all instinctively ducking for cover as the debris rained down in burning sparks and flashes.

Trent’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to gauge how long it would take him to reach the water truck. He ran in that direction and bumped into Tate, who had the same idea.

“I’ll drive the water truck,” she yelled. “You stay and organize the men. The Duchess called 911. But they’re still probably ten minutes out. Where the hell is that security team we’re paying for?”

Trent thought the same thing as he heard sirens in the distance.

Adrenaline pumping, Trent grabbed his radio and called Hawk, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Where the hell are you guys? Over. We’re battling a 4-alarm fire here. Move your asses to help us out. Over and out.”

With no further warning, a series of rapid gunshots echoed across the estate.

Somebody yelled, “That’s not a .22. That’s an AK47!”

Woody and Cecil hit the ground behind a stack of hay bales,pulling Blake and Brock down with them, away from the burning bonfire, while Monty picked up the radio and barked, “Hawk, you need to get everybody back to the main house. Now! We’re taking fire. Over.”

“Affirmative,” Hawk responded. “We’re headed that way now. Over.”

Within moments, Hawk and his men were sprinting toward the main house, dodging falling debris and navigating through the thick smoke that now blanketed the area.

Trent continued to bark orders to his men, his instructions precise and unwavering. “Woody, Cecil, get those hoses running! We can’t afford to let this spread to the horses in the barn!”

“Roger that, boss,” Cecil hollered.

Chaos surrounded them, but they were determined. Tate expertly maneuvered the water truck into position, and with practiced efficiency, she and Blake began dousing the flames with powerful streams of water. The combined efforts of the portable tanks, fire extinguishers, and the bucket brigade slowly began to take effect, but the battle was far from over.

Hawk, Lincoln, and Drum arrived through a haze of smoke and began to assist.

Trent strategized contingencies if they couldn’t locate the source of the gunfire. He knew they had to secure the perimeter to prevent any further attacks. “Hawk, I need you to take your men and scout the area. Make sure there are no more threats. Be on the lookout for anyone suspicious. Shoot and ask questions later if you see anybody you don’t recognize. All my guys are accounted for right here.”

“Roger that. Has anyone heard from Slade?” Hawk asked.

Holding a hose on smoldering embers, Tate answered, “The last time I saw him, he was setting up in the sunroom. Maybe he’s keeping an eye on Dolly and Duchess. I don’t know.”

“He’s not answering the radio,” Hawk replied. “Hasn’t been for half an hour.”

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