Page 22 of No Vow Broken

“I think so. At least he never fired again. Have you seen Gray?”

I thought back and realized I had, in fact, not seen her. “No, I haven’t.”

“I saw Grayson near the kitchen right before the lights went out,” Beau said from behind me. “My guess is she probably ducked in there when the shooting started.”

Hands didn’t respond, and I knew he was fighting to keep from storming the kitchen in a blazing rush of gunfire to find his girlfriend. But he didn’t, because he knew better.

“She’ll be okay,” I said, trying to bring him back to the operational needs of the moment. “She’s tough and smart.”

“That she is.” Still, I could tell by the strained tone of his voice it was an effort to keep his emotions under control. I understood his feelings all too well, because if it had been Lexi in the kitchen, I’d be thinking the same thing.

“Anyway, while sighting the sniper, I saw at least two more hostiles approaching the house,” Hands continued. “I couldn’t get a clear shot, but I still let them know I was there. They headed to opposite sides of the house, clearly hesitant to come out in front where I could see them. Hopefully they don’t know I’m gone and presume the front is still being protected.”

“Now what?” Beau asked. “We’re at a serious disadvantage with so few weapons.”

It was an excellent question. I had a decently trained team at my disposal. Beau the policeman, Gio the marksman, Hands the sniper, Tito the Swiss Guard, and myself. Two police were down, and one confirmed Secret Service agent was down, but if I added the three agents still alive—one barely—that made eight of us, with seven operational.

But without enough weapons we were sitting ducks. We needed a plan, fast.

“Beau and Hands, I need you to go back down the hall and guard the side entrance in the ballroom,” I said. “I sent Gio down there just before the attack here. Have him bring back the FN P90 so we can give it to Tito.”

I turned to Beau. “Take this Glock but be careful. They have automatic weapons. We don’t know how many there are, and they’re likely wearing body armor. Expect a concerted attack at any time. They know they’re on the clock. Shoot to kill.”

They both nodded and silently disappeared down the hallway.

A couple of perfunctory incoming shots rang out from the kitchen. Tito didn’t fall for it and remained silent.

My instincts were on high alert. Something was about to happen.

A loud crash sounded from the far side of the kitchen. Abruptly, a burst of incoming automatic fire blasted into the dining room followed by intense bursts in the kitchen and down the hall toward the ballroom.

The assault was on.

I crouched as another round penetrated wall of the dining room above me, shattering the ceramic head of a dead president—no doubt a priceless antique—on a bookcase lining the wall of the dining room above my head.

The shots all sounded incoming, as I did not hear responding gunfire. Agent Troy and Tito were probably being judicious with their rounds. But their adversaries knew they were there, and our guys were at a disadvantage in the dark. It was only a matter of time before the assailants fully pressed their attack.

Agent Troy rose suddenly and fired a burst into the backyard. I wasn’t sure if he’d seen anything or not. His fire prompted an immediate response targeting the wall under the window where he had appeared. I could feel one of the low bullets tug at my slacks just above my ankle. The walls offered visual protection but wouldn’t stop the high-velocity bullets.

I could hear grunting and muffled moaning from the window in the aftermath. Troy must have been hit. I started forward to help even as another burst thudded into the walls. A shape came scuttling down the hall before I could move again and knelt beside me.

Gio.

“What’s happening in the ballroom?” I asked him.

“I was able to drag and flip several tables to block the exit from the ballroom to the hall and provide firing positions. But if those are grenades and not flash-bangs, it won’t hold long.”

“Did you see anything useful?”

“Only shadows that might be real or just my imagination,” Gio continued grimly. “If we get out of this, I’m never going anywhere without a set of night-vision goggles.”

“Agreed. I’ve got to get to Tito in the kitchen. Can you give me your P90? Tito is a little outgunned right now.”

Gio handed me his gun and I put a hand on his shoulder. “Check on Agent Troy under the window. He might be shot. If so, take his P90 or Glock and see what you can do for him. But remember, if they don’t hear anything from us in this area, they may decide this approach is uncovered.”

“Understood,” he said as he crawled toward the downed agent.

Even as I crouch-walked to the kitchen door, I calculated our chances. We had to hold on until help arrived. The low visibility was going to slow the response. Even if it was only a fifteen-minute response, I knew it was going to feel a lot longer.

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