Page 75 of Found By You
The night air was cool against my skin as I moved silently across the yard, every muscle tense and ready. The sounds were clearer now—someone was definitely moving through the brush at the edge of our property.
I circled wide, using the trees for cover. Years of military training took over, my breathing steady, my movements deliberate.
A twig snapped to my left, and I froze, spotting a dark figure crouching near the garden shed. Moonlight glinted off metal—a gun. My blood ran cold. This wasn’t some curious trespasser.
This was Diaz, or one of his men.
The figure moved toward the house, weapon raised. I couldn’t wait any longer.
“Police! Drop your weapon!” I shouted, leveling the rifle.
The figure spun, firing wildly in my direction.
The crack of gunfire split the night as I dove behind a tree, bark splintering where a bullet struck inches from my head.
I heard sirens in the distance; Mom had reached Damon. But this would be over before they arrived.
The shooter was running now, heading for the tree line. I couldn’t let him escape. I sprang from my cover, cutting across the yard to intercept him.
He spotted me, raising his weapon again, but I was too close. I tackled him hard, the impact driving the air from both our lungs as we crashed to the ground.
His gun went flying, disappearing in the darkness.
He fought like a cornered animal, landing a solid blow to my ribs that made me gasp. But I’d fought tougher men than him. I drove my fist into his jaw, following with an elbow strike that stunned him.
I recognized him—the same cold eyes, the scar along his jawline. Diaz. The man who’d shot at us in Denver, who’d nearly killed Azalea’s brother.
“It’s over,” I growled, pinning him to the ground and twisting his arm behind his back. He struggled furiously, but I held him firm, my knee in his back. “You’re done.”
The wail of sirens grew louder, and suddenly the yard was bathed in flashing red and blue lights.
Car doors slammed. Footsteps pounded across the grass.
“McCrae!” Damon’s voice called out.
“Over here!” I shouted back, not loosening my grip on Diaz. “Got him!”
Damon appeared, weapon drawn, followed by two deputies. They took over, cuffing Diaz as I stepped back, my heart still hammering against my ribs.
“You okay?” Damon asked, eyeing me.
I nodded, touching my side where Diaz had landed his punch. It would bruise, but nothing was broken. “Fine.”
The officers took over with Diaz, cuffing him, then yanking him to his feet.
We walked toward the house.
The door to the house burst open, and Azalea ran out, followed by my parents.
She launched herself into my arms, her entire body trembling.
“I thought—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, burying her face against my chest.
“I’m okay,” I murmured into her hair, holding her close. “We’re okay.”
Another set of headlights cut through the darkness as an unmarked SUV pulled up.
Agent Winters stepped out, her expression grim as she surveyed the scene.
