Page 77 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

With his fingers, he brushed the hollow of her throat where the Shining Light pendant used to rest. He was pleased she’d taken it off and relieved she’d finally gotten free of her father.

“Sorry to break up this reunion,” Nash said, standing with several others who had been watching them. “But we’ve got domestic terrorists to stop.”

Rocco looked over the group: Sheriff Daniel Clark, Chief of Police Willa Nelson, Becca, Charlie, Chief Deputy Holden Powell and his brother, state trooper Monty Powell. They had quite the audience.

“I flattened a couple of their tires,” Rocco said, “but it won’t take them long to change them.”

“We’ve got highway patrol on the lookout for them. The plan is to trap Cormac McCoy and his men on Second Street, where it’s clear of civilians,” Nash said. “We’ve put out the warning for folks to get inside, stay off the streets, and we’re positioning some plainclothes officers. We’ll funnel them in, helping them get to where they think they want to go. Then we’ll block off Second Street with LPD on one end and the sheriff’s department on the other.”

A solid plan. They had to be smart about this. No room for mistakes. With the Brotherhood using armor-piercing bullets they couldn’t approach this situation as they might under normal circumstances.

“What about us?” Rocco asked.

“You, me, Brian and the state troopers will take positions on the rooftops. Everyone is aware that they’re using armor-piercing ammo. If they open fire, we shoot to kill.”

INADPO—discontinued post office—the task force had previously requisitioned as a backup headquarters, Mercy stood beside the chair Charlie sat in. She was too nervous to sit. Becca was seated across the table along with an LPD officer.

The DPO was located on a side street that intersected Second, right around the corner from the task force’s primary office. Mercy stared at the three law-enforcement vehicles, including an armored tank, parked outside, positioned at the ready to block off Second Street once the Brotherhood had entered the trap.

“They’re here, just got off Highway 130,” a patrol officer said over the radio that was on the table. “Four men inside each vehicle along with four more sitting in the truck beds, holding assault rifles. Sixteen gunmen total. Both vehicles are now turning onto Snowy Range Road.”

“So far, they’re taking the route we expected,” Becca said, her gaze bouncing between Mercy and Charlie. “We’ve also closed off certain streets to prevent a detour.”

Mercy wrung her hands, trying not to worry, but it was impossible.

“It’s going to be okay,” Charlie said low to her. “They’ve got this. None of the good guys out there will let any civilians get hurt.”

But what about the good guys getting hurt?

“They just turned onto Second,” the trooper said. “Ten blocks away. Looks like a ghost town with no one on the street. So far they don’t seem suspicious. Still headed in your direction. Going the speed limit. Nine blocks.”

Fear coursed through Mercy, her mind racing. Rocco had to be all right. Brian, Nash, all the officers who were putting their lives on the line to protect the town needed to be safe.

They just had to be.

“Seven blocks,” the patrol officer said. “Six. They’re stopping at a red light. I’m hanging back.”

The authorities were armed and well-trained, but their tactical gear wouldn’t protect them. Not from armor-piercing rounds that would tear through their vests like a hot knife through butter. At least officers on the ground had a tank to hide behind.

But those positioned on the rooftops would be partially exposed.

“Five.” The tension in the patrol officer’s voice vibrated through her. “Four.”

“We’ve got a visual,” Nash said. “Got them in our sights.”

Seconds crawled by. With each one, Mercy forced herself to take deep, steady breaths and not panic. It wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all Rocco.

“Three blocks...two...you’re a go.”

The vehicles outside, with the armored tank leading the way, sped into position.

Mercy ran to the window and looked down the street. She could see where the officers stopped, blocking off that end of Second Street. But then her stress skyrocketed with the next sound.

The assault kicked off without warning.

A single shot became a raging torrent of gunfire faster than the ear could comprehend. Automatic weapons spit out a barrage of bullets.

She hated not knowing what was happening. The only thing certain was that this was risky. Dangerous for anyone going up against her uncle and his people.

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