“You’re using your grandmother’s house for a bloody standoff?”

  “Nana is still in county jail, thanks to you. And she will think this is a perfect use of her property.” He went to the door to my right. It was a couple of feet behind me. Presumably, it was the door we’d entered through because I didn’t see any others. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, now.” His laughter carried even after the door shut behind him.

  I looked around the space. It wasn’t particularly illuminating. The four laptops each showed four videos. I saw the front and back porches on one. They were paired with video from inside the house showing the front and back entrances. Another showed the entrance to the driveway. There was also a strip of road, presumably leading to the house. Two others showed sections of the fire road Laurel had parked on. I could see the front and back of the shed we were in. The wide-angle lens on the front showed the car we’d arrived in. Henry was pulling duffel bags of gear out of the trunk, which explained why he hadn’t put me back there. The rest showed sections of forest.

  The laptops were all plugged into a single power strip that was doing overtime. My phone was also plugged into it. So were the three shop lights overhead. And I couldn’t see very well, but I was pretty sure there was another stun gun still plugged in. Henry was not paying attention to fire safety.

  There was a hose spigot on the wall to my left. I knew it wouldn’t help the burning in my eyes and nose, but I still wanted to dunk my head. I twisted to look behind me. It was all built-in shelving that looked like it had been there since Grandpa Brewer built the place. Old camping gear and yard equipment was shoved onto the shelves haphazardly. On my right was a rickety table. New camping gear was stacked underneath it. I saw a propane tank and a sleeping bag. Above the table was a narrow shelf with a tiny backpacking stove and a few cans of food. I wondered how many nights Henry had spent out here reveling in his self-righteous importance, surrounded by an unforgiving forest. I hoped it had been fucking cold.

  He came back in and stacked the duffels on a table. Then he went back out and brought in more bags of equipment. I watched and looked for a way out, but there wasn’t much for me to work with. I twisted my wrists, but there was still no hope of tearing the duct tape.

  Henry started unpacking his bags. He started with the wearable stuff. A tactical belt with a thigh holster. A Kevlar vest. A helmet with webbing. He attached night vision goggles to the helmet. Then he started putting on his gear. He was methodical. After every piece, he checked the cameras for any sign of movement. He didn’t know when they were going to come for me. I really didn’t want him to be ready when they did.

  “Hey, man, I see you’re prepping for like a war or whatever, but I’m dying over here from the pepper spray.” I knew damn well he had something to alleviate the pain. He was just waiting for a moment to be nice to me.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a dick when I was trying to get you in the car.”

  “Yeah, I’ve made some short-sighted decisions.” Mostly just allowing him to be part of my life, but also getting pepper sprayed.

  “I do have a bottle of baby soap.” He shrugged. “That’s what we used at the academy. I guess I could wash your eyes out.”

  “Please.” I could play nice. Especially if it resulted in slowing his preparations. Getting the pepper spray out of my eyes was a bonus. A big bonus.

  He pulled a sports water bottle from one of the bags on the ground. “This is a solution of water and mild soap.” He held up the bottle. “I’m going to douse your eyes. Tilt your head back and to the side.”

  I did as he instructed and he gently held my eye open with his thumb. He squirted soapy water into the corner of my eye. I blinked and blinked, but the relief was almost immediate. He tilted my head the other direction and repeated the maneuver on my other eye. When he was done, he squirted the solution on my forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, ears. It ran and dripped down my face, but it was cool and soothing. He set the soap bottle down and pulled a couple of plastic water bottles out of the same bag. He cracked one open and poured the contents on my face. It gathered in my ears and hair. I shook my head. Water flew off me. I took a full, deep breath. It was exquisite. The collar and shoulders of my T-shirt were damp with a mixture of capsicum and soap and water. My skin itched, but it was an afterthought compared to the residual burning on my face.

  “That feels a hell of a lot better. Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Any chance you’ve got drinking water?”

  He huffed. “Yeah. Just a sec.” He opened a second bottle and carefully poured some in my mouth. I drank greedily.

  “More.”

  “If I give you more, you’ll have to pee,” he said.

  “I already have to pee. I went out with a bunch of sorority girls tonight. They could drink most frat boys under the table.”

  “That sucks for you, man.” He opened his own bottle and chugged the entire thing. “I got to stay hydrated. You know, so I can kill all your friends.”

  “Good luck with that.” I’d never been so happy my default was sarcasm. I was sure he wanted to see fear and I really didn’t want to indulge him. But also I was terrified. For me, for whomever was going to march into Henry’s killing forest. I knew Michelson and Reyes wouldn’t allow Laurel to join them, but I had little faith that they could actually stop her.

  He went back to unloading equipment. He had a silly number of shotguns and an even sillier amount of bullets.

  I saw movement on the fire road first. It was a dark SVU driving without headlights. Henry didn’t see it right away. I wasn’t going to tell him. They continued driving until they were out of the frame.

  Henry put the neon handled Glock into his thigh holster. He put a few extra magazines in pouches on his belt. The rest of the magazines he laid out on the table. He clipped a knife sheath onto the belt. The unused stun gun got clipped next to that. He reached over the laptops to plug in the stun gun he’d used on me, which was when he missed the second dark SUV on the fire road. Pepper spray, which was officially the worse pain I’d ever experienced, went on the other side of his belt.

  “So about that bathroom trip,” I said.

  “Piss yourself if you have to go that bad.” He clipped another gun onto the belt. He was getting a little excessive with the guns.

  “Come on, dude. It will take two minutes.”

  Two SUVs drove by the road camera. This time, Henry saw them. He whistled. “Showtime.” He put on a Kevlar vest and adjusted the Velcro straps. The magazines he’d laid out got tucked into the pockets on the front of the vest. He grabbed one of the shotguns and slung it over his shoulder. The strap was loaded with additional shells. The two SUVs turned up the driveway. Henry put on the helmet and clipped the chin strap in place.

  “Don’t worry, man. I’ll be back,” he said.

  “Asshole.”

  He yanked the extension cord for the shop lights. Everything went dark. My eyes adjusted to the dim light from the laptop videos. I saw a sliver of moonlight before the door closed and the lock clicked. On the surveillance video, I could see him running toward the house. He’d flipped down the night vision goggles. I took a small amount of comfort in the knowledge that he looked like an idiot. But then I heard the first shotgun blast. And another. And another. It kind of negated the comfort.

  The video feed from the front porch showed two SUVs parked in the turnaround. Dudes dressed much like Henry were crouched behind open car doors. One body in tactical gear was already on the ground. I saw movement on one of the forest feeds, but it disappeared so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. Two shotgun blasts later, I saw it again. I didn’t identify the slight shape as Laurel until she was outside the shed, trying to pick the lock. It took her thirty seconds. No time and an eternity. As soon as the door opened, an alarm went off. Henry looked up at the sound. He ran around the side of the house back toward the shed.

  “Cash?” Laurel yelled over the alarm.

  “Get out of here. He’s coming back,” I yelled.

  She slid to her knees in front of me. “Are you okay?” She had a mini Maglite. She shined it on my face, then arms and legs. “Fuck.” She pulled out a knife and moved behind me.

  “Seriously. He’s running back here right now. He’ll be here in thirty seconds,” I said.

  “Let him. I’ll shoot the motherfucker.” She cut through the tape holding me to the chair and started sawing at the tape around my wrists.

  “He’s wearing Kevlar and he’s armed to the teeth,” I said.

  “Shit.”

  “Put the knife in my hand and get out.”

  “Dammit, Cash.” She pressed the knife hilt into my hand.

  He appeared on the shed video. “It’s too late. You have to hide,” I said.

  She stood and shone the light around the shed. “Where?”

  “The duffel bags in the corner. Get behind them.”

  She dove and killed the light. The shed door opened.

  “Hey, Cash, are you making friends?” Henry asked. He hit a fob and the alarm cut.

  “Yeah, the sweetest little squirrel came in here.” I angled the knife and was able to cut through another chunk of tape. “I named it Duke.”

  “That’s strange. Because I don’t think Duke the squirrel would set off my alarm.” He moved around me, checking under shelves and in the darkened corners.

  “Duke’s a talented squirrel.” I cut through the last of it. I leaned forward slightly to test and was able to move. Henry came around my left side, still studying the shelving built into the wall. “Oh look, there Duke goes, running out the door.”

  “Fucking cunt.” He spun and dashed for the door. He left it open and I could see him studying the surrounding area.

  I took the risk and leaned forward to cut my ankles free. The thick strip of tape stayed attached to my chest. The ends flapped comically as I sliced through the tape at my ankle. I got through one, but then he spun and stomped back to the shed.

  “Where the fuck is she?” he shouted at me.

  “Okay, I don’t think I told you Duke’s pronouns, but he actually uses he pronouns, not she.”

  He backhanded me again, then turned and resumed his search. He squatted and looked under the workbench. He was getting way too close to Laurel’s arguably terrible hiding spot. I quietly leaned forward and cut the last piece of tape. Henry turned. I stood and launched myself at him. The chair was still partially attached to the tape on my leg. It went flying and slammed into the wall.

  “How the fuck—” he started to say and then I jammed the knife up under his vest.

  His gut was firm and soft. Warm blood dripped onto my hand. I gripped the knife hilt hard and twisted. Blood started to pour. I yanked the knife out, but after a couple of inches, my hand slipped and the blade stayed behind. I didn’t realize Laurel had stood until she was behind me.

  “You. You fucking bitch,” Henry sputtered. He fell to his knees. He reached down. I thought he was trying to put pressure on the wound, but then I realized he was going for the Glock.

  I grabbed Laurel and ran for the door. “Gun.”

  We barely cleared the doorway before it was splintered with bullets. Laurel yanked me behind Henry’s car. We crouched, breathing hard, listening for a sign that he was following us.

  “We can make it to those trees.” Laurel pointed at a copse of small pines. They were across fifteen feet of bare ground. She started to stand.

  I pulled her back. “Even if he’s not following us, there are a fuckload of feds wandering around here, armed to the teeth, looking to shoot anyone running around.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got a plan.”

  “Last time you had a plan, you got shot.”

  “Technically, I got shot before the plan.”

  “Don’t technically me.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  I studied her face. The moonlight caught the edge of her hair, making it glow. She had half a grin like this was the most entertainment she’d had in a long time. I slid my hand behind her neck and kissed her. “Fuck yeah.”

  “Okay, stay in front of me.” She shoved me to start running for the trees. I sprinted, her footfalls immediately behind me. I threw myself behind the first tree and she slammed into me. The tree wasn’t much wider than we were. My back was to the tree. Thick scales of bark pressed against my shoulder blades. Laurel leaned against the length of me. She angled her head to watch the shed door. She had her gun out, but it was pointed at the ground.

  “What now?” I asked.

  “My phone is in my front pocket. Text Duarte. Tell him we’re a quarter mile north of the house, coming in hot.” She said it without a trace of irony and I found it stupid sexy.

  I dug into her front pockets. She’d changed to dark thick pants. They were baggy—for her, at least—and felt like they could withstand battle. Did everyone except for me get the tactical outfit memo? I found her phone and unlocked it. I typed a message to Duarte.

  This is Cash with L. 1/4 mile north of house. Coming in hott. I figured he would appreciate the extra “T” to really make the text come alive. I hit send as Laurel raised the gun and fired off two rounds.

  “Time to move.” She grabbed the shoulder of my T-shirt and hauled me with her to the next tree five feet away.

  This tree was bigger. She knelt and studied the ground. She picked up a rock about the size of her fist. Then a second that was a little smaller.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  She stood and grinned impishly. “Evening the playing field.” She tossed one of the rocks six inches and caught it. “Head for that tree.” She pointed to one about seven feet away. “I’ll cover you.”

  I nodded. “Now?”

  “Now.”

  I sprinted for the next cover. Henry fired off another shotgun round. Laurel fired back. I glanced back. He was moving slowly, but advancing steadily toward us. Laurel holstered her weapon. She took a breath and launched one of the rocks high and over his head. It arced and landed on the metal roof of the shed, then rolled and smacked the hood of Henry’s car. He spun and fired into the side of the shed. She stepped out where she was fully exposed. He turned and she nailed him in the night vision goggles with the second rock. He roared and threw off his broken goggles. Laurel sprinted toward me.

  “Come on.” She grabbed my hand and yanked me after her. We wove through trees, leapt over dry underbrush, skirted brambles. We’d probably run a couple hundred yards when buckshot blew apart a young tree five feet to my left. “Fuck.” She spun and dragged me behind another tree. She ducked and ran a few more feet. I followed suit.

  “I’m going to get you, bitches. You may as well stop running,” Henry yelled.

  Laurel straightened with her back against a tree. “We’re almost to the driveway. The guys won’t enter the trees until we’re out. You run through there.” She pointed to our right. “After twenty feet, hang a sharp left. Don’t stop until you’re out of the trees.”

  “I think you mean out of the woods.”

  “Are you really doing this right now?”

  I shrugged and grinned. “If we lose frivolity, the patriarchy wins.”

  “Run, Cash.”

  “Wait. Where are you going to go?”

  “I’m going to run straight through here.” She nodded perpendicular to where we were headed. Not toward the driveway of safety. “I’ll see if I can tag him before I turn back to where the guys are.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “We’re not splitting up. We’re in this together. You’re not getting rid of me.”

  Another small tree splintered apart. He was getting closer and rapidly figuring out where we were.

  “Come on, Cash. This is what I do.”

  “Too bad. I follow you. That’s what I do.”

  She sighed. “Fine.” She pointed a little to the left of where we were. “That’s where we’re going. I’m still going to try to hit him. When my magazine is spent, we run.”

  “Cool.”

  She dropped low and spun out from our cover. She methodically unloaded the remainder of her ammo in the direction we’d last seen him.

  “Go.” Laurel took off in the direction she’d told me. As we ran, she ejected her magazine and slammed another into her gun without looking. “Stay ahead of me.”

  It was difficult. She was a hell of a lot faster than I was. And I still couldn’t breathe properly. We reached the driveway. The unobstructed moonlight was shockingly bright. Three guys in tactile gear sprinted out to cover us. One of them dropped to his knees in concert with a shotgun blast. Laurel tackled me and we landed behind one of the SUVs. We lay there breathing hard.

  “Get up. Get up.” Someone grabbed my bicep and hauled me to my feet. It was Malone. He shoved us around the corner of the vehicle. I was absolutely over people yanking me around. Except for Laurel. She could manhandle me all she wanted.

  Michelson was on the far side of the SUV.

  “You two okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Laurel said. He looked at me and I nodded.

  “How’s Brewer?”

  “He’s got a knife in his gut and I think I winged his right arm. He’s wearing a helmet and a Kevlar vest,” she said.

  Michelson nodded and relayed the information over his walkie. A shotgun round hit the other side of the SUV and shattered two windows. We all ducked instinctively. Michelson popped back up to look through a night scope.

  “How is he still going?” Laurel asked. It didn’t seem like she was directing it to anyone in particular, but the feds were a little busy.

  “Pure white male rage, I think. Potent shit,” I said.

  Another round hit and we ducked again. Laurel looked at me incredulously. “Seriously. Even now?”

  “If I see a misandrist opening, I’ve got to take it.” I shrugged. “Plus, that dickwad pepper sprayed me. Twice. Have you ever been pepper sprayed?”

  “Yes,” Laurel said.

  Michelson lowered his night vision goggles. “Yep. Hurts like hell.”