Meeting his hard stare with my own hard stare and hoping he realizes I won’t back down on this, I say, “I’m not abandoning her, James.”
Jaw tightening, James looks away for a moment and shakes his head before he snaps, “Then you give me no choice.”
The phone he was holding falls to the floor as he yanks hard on my arm, forcing me to stumble into his chest.
When I feel both of his hands wrapping around my waist like he means to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder, I react out of pure instinct.
Bringing up my knee, I drive it hard into his balls. So hard, I swear I hit bone somewhere.
All the air bursts out of James and he immediately releases his hold on me. Doubling over, it sounds like he’s both gasping and choking.
Not feeling the least bit guilty about what I did, I fucking warned him, I turn and tear up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
When I reach the top of the stairs, James croaks, “Sophia!”
I slam the basement door behind me.
Glancing left to right, looking for Fluffers, I remember Mitzy came from the living room. Fluffers is probably in there somewhere.
“Fluffers!” I yell as I head to the right. “Fluffers, come here!”
She never comes when I call, but I’m so desperate, I’m hoping for a miracle.
Bending down, I check under the dining room table on the way, but don’t see her. When I straighten, however, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
Spinning in that direction, I expect to see Fluffers peering at me with a look of annoyance for bothering her.
What I don’t expect to see is a man dressed head to toe in black combat gear staring at me through the front window.
“Fuck!” I shout in surprise as the man tilts his helmet-covered head slightly to the side like he’s speaking in a headset.
James said they were on their way, not that they were already here!
Gripping a rifle, the man lifts one hand and motions toward the front door like he expects me to open it for him.
Shaking my head, I back away from the window and bump into the dining room table.
The little bump startles my brain enough to help me think clearly again. If the man wants me to open the door for them then they probably can’t get in. I can still grab Fluffers and make it back to the basement before anything happens…
The man backs away from the window, disappearing from my line of sight. Not willing to waste another second, I run for the living room without stopping on the way.
“Fluffers! Please come out, please!” I scream as I tear into the living room and head for the couch.
I make it two more steps before a loud booming crash nearly knocks me off my feet.
Stumbling and catching my balance, I whip around to see a fucking armored truck sitting where the front wall near the garage used to be.
They must have driven it into the house…
There’s shit everywhere, like a bomb just went off.
The air is thick, almost foggy with dust.
Most of the debris though seems to be in front of the truck, which happens to be pushed up against the inner wall, blocking the basement door.
The truck’s engine revs then it begins to reverse, bumping over chunks of wall and whatever else it knocked out.
A couple of seconds later, four men dressed in black SWAT gear pour in through the truck-size hole in the front of the house. Crouched a little, with their weapons out.
I never ever thought or dreamed I’d ever find myself on the other side like this…
Staring down the wrong side of the barrel as four law enforcement officers come for me.
“Freeze!” the officer taking point shouts. “Put your hands in the air where I can see them!”
Shaking my head in horror and denial, I feel tears streaming down my cheeks as I take a step back.
I know… I know it’s stupid and dangerous to ignore an officer’s command, but this isn’t right… They have no right to do this.
“Freeze and put your hands up or I’ll fucking shoot!” the point man warns.
Oh fuck… He’s willing to shoot me.
Me.
When the hell did the world turn sideways?
“The fuck you will,” someone growls. Then another one of the men bumps into the point man and steps in front of him. “Back the fuck down, Dickers. It’s Sophia, for fuck’s sake.”
The small group stops, and the point man, Dickers, straightens to his full height. “She could be compromised. There’s no telling—"
“She is not the fucking enemy. She’s our mission, you dumb fuck,” the man in front of Dickers snaps, and I recognize his voice.
It’s Trent.
Trent turns toward me, and I finally see that he’s not holding a weapon at all. He’s actually wearing a black sling over his right shoulder and arm.