Defiance: A House Divided (The Defending Home Series Book 2) (18 page)

Once they set their things in order, Dale would take Roy and Tyrell to the basement to help him finish the tunnel. With any luck, the project wouldn’t take more than a couple more days. As for Caleb and Jeb, there was still plenty of work to do outside, adding more foot traps, completing the ditch and tending to the chickens and the vegetable garden out back.

An hour later, with Roy digging away in the basement and Tyrell hauling up the hard-packed earth and dumping it outside, Dale sat down before the shortwave radio and signaled the sheriff’s office.

“Encendido Sheriff’s Office,” a man responded.

Dale didn’t recognize the voice. “Get Sheriff Gaines,” he said.

“I’m afraid the sheriff isn’t available.”

“Tell him it’s Dale Hardy. Tell him we need to talk.”

The other end grew quiet for several minutes. Dale was about to hang up when Randy came on.

“I must say, you’re the last person I expected to hear from,” Randy said.

“We need to meet,” Dale said, cutting the small talk short. “Can I trust you won’t try to pull something stupid?”

A pause. “Of course you can trust me.”

“Is anyone else listening in?” Dale asked. The question was a trap. Of course they were, but he wanted to see how Randy would answer. If he said no, the lie would only prove the sheriff wasn’t really interested in meeting him man to man.

“You know there are, Dale.”

Now it was Dale’s turn to stop and consider the full range of risks he was about to expose himself to. “We need to speak, but it can only be you and me. Anyone else shows up and the meeting’s off.”

“What’s this about?” Randy asked, sounding intrigued, but not trying to let on.

“Can’t discuss it like this. I’m sure you understand.”

“How do I know I can trust you? You did try to kill me, Dale. Don’t think I forgot about that.”

“I did,” Dale admitted. “And sometimes I wish that shot hadn’t gone wide. But there are some things that are bigger than an old feud between two stubborn bastards. You have my word. Now, will you agree to meet?”

There was another silence and this one seemed to last a while. “Where?”

“I’ll have someone radio you in thirty minutes with the location.”

“You’re worried I’m going to get there first and set up an ambush,” Randy said, sounding entertained that Dale could practically see inside his head.

“I wouldn’t put it past you. There’s trust and then there’s trust. Let’s stop playing games. If I see that you’re alone, then we’ll have words. I spot anyone else and I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Fair enough,” was Randy’s final reply before the conversation ended for good.

Dale went upstairs and told a rather worried Sandy to wait thirty minutes and then radio the sheriff’s office telling them where he would be.

––––––––

A
pparently Sandy wasn’t the only one who thought Dale shouldn’t be going alone. When he got to his truck, he found Duke waiting there, wagging his tail.

“Not this time, boy,” he told the dog. “But I’ll return soon and we’ll work on some drills out back.”

Panting, Duke barked and continued to eye the truck. After a minute of angling, Dale was able to open the door a crack and slide past Duke into the driver’s seat. “You watch the others while I’m gone,” he said.

Dale rolled a few feet down the drive and stopped when he saw Caleb, Jeb and Brooke working on the trench. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said.

“All right,” Brooke said, dismissively.

Dale couldn’t help but chuckle as he pulled away.

The spot he picked was a landmark ten minutes west of town called the Devil’s Pitchfork, a large saguaro cactus that looked a lot like Satan’s favorite farming implement. The spot itself was on a rise, from which Dale would be able to keep an eye over the valley below, especially the main road that led out of Encendido. He waited in the truck, peering through a set of binoculars and sipping on a canteen of well water. Next to him were his three favorite weapons—one for long range, the second for medium and the last up close and personal. If Randy had any sense of self-preservation, Dale was confident he would do as he promised.

Several minutes passed before a lone dust cloud appeared along the road below. As the vehicle drew closer, Dale saw that it was a cruiser.

So far, so good.

Before long, it pulled up to where he was parked. Both men stayed in their vehicles, eyeing each other. At last, Dale opened his door and planted a foot on the hot dusty ground.

“I’ll take it on faith that you’re armed,” Dale shouted.

Randy opened his own door. “Stupid not to be, especially out here where nearly everything out here will kill you soon as look at you.”

“Sounds a lot like life in Encendido.”

Randy grinned, the expression practically sealing his eyes shut.

“So how you wanna do this?” Dale inquired.

“Leave our weapons in our vehicles. Step out and spin around so we know nobody’s cheating.”

Dale thought it over. “Sounds fair.”

They did so, both men stepping into the stifling desert air, making a full turn, one at a time, and standing there as though waiting for some third party to provide further instructions.

“You coulda picked a cooler place to meet,” Randy complained. His cheeks and the edges of his ears were pink and wet with perspiration. “I’m just saying.”

Both men walked toward each other, meeting somewhere in the middle. Fewer than five feet separated them, but this was about as close as either of them wanted to get.

“I’m here,” Randy said. “And I don’t have all day, so let’s get to it.”

“I wanna make you an offer,” Dale said. “It’s not one I’ll make again, so I want you to think real hard before you answer.”

Randy watched him, dark patches growing from his armpits. “I’m listening.”

“You and I both know right now we aren’t the problem.”

The sheriff’s eyes flicked to Dale’s feet and then back. “The cartel,” he said, knowing full well what his long-time adversary was getting at.

“Since they’ve arrived,” Dale said, “things in town have gone from bad to worse.”

“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t been so hard-headed, we coulda found a more amicable solution.”

“I didn’t bring you all the way out here, Randy, in order to debate who was at fault. If you were doing what was in your heart, then more power to you. The truth of the matter is, the cartel’s getting ready to chew what’s left of this town up and spit it out. They already did the same to Hugh Reid and countless others.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Randy said, that same arrogant smirk spread across his lips. “You wanna team up? Become best friends? Fight crime together?”

“I’m advocating a truce,” Dale said flatly. “You give it whatever name you want. If we move on the cartel, I need your word your men won’t interfere.”

“And if I do? What’s in it for me?”

“Your life,” Dale replied. “Perhaps even a future in Encendido. You’ve done some horrible things, Randy. And I’m not only talking about what you tried to do to me and countless other residents in town. I’m talking about the biggest no-no. Number six on God’s instruction manual. Good people were killed in cold blood and we have proof you were involved.”

“Betty,” Randy hissed.

“She’s safe,” Dale said. “But she’s also a practical woman, Randy. You play your part and we can make the charges against you go away. One way or another, Encendido will be free of the cartel. When the chips fall, you’ll need to make up your mind which side you wanna be on.”

“While I consider your proposal, let me offer you a bit of advice. Your friends in the resistance movement need to stop blowing things up and taking shots at deputies and cartel members. It’s only pushing Edwardo further over the edge. I’ll tell you, if that crazy bastard had a nuke he’d have set it off by now, and right over the city center. The guy’s that volatile. There’s no telling how many he’ll kill if he’s pushed too far. It’s not an exaggeration to say he’d order everyone butchered.”

Randy was talking about Zach’s new outfit and the havoc they’d wrought under Calvin’s leadership.

“Tell him to ease off until you and your people are ready for the big push. If you can promise me that, I’ll give you my word we won’t interfere.”

Randy put out his hand. Dale stared him in the eye, stepped forward and took it. They stayed like that for a full minute, squeezing hard enough to let the other man know they meant business, but just shy of breaking any bones.

Zach

––––––––

P
eering through the binoculars, Zach watched two cartel members enter a bungalow across the road. Zach and his men were in an empty house on Laguna Street in the southeastern corner of Encendido. When he had asked Travis for targets they could hit, this had topped his list—a cartel outpost of sorts, designed to allow the criminal organization to project their dominance over this part of town.

The place had been under observation for two days when Zach had given the green light. From the intelligence they had managed to gather, anywhere from three to seven cartel members were stationed here at any one time. It seemed their main purpose was to patrol the neighborhoods, collecting taxes in the form of supplies, but mostly they were here to remind the locals who was in charge.

Zach glanced back at Travis on his left, Colton standing next to him. Eight other rangers were with them. Apart from .223 caliber assault rifles, each man carried a pistol and a tactical vest with plenty of extra ammo. Unlike the others, Colton carried a shotgun loaded with slugs designed to breach the front door if necessary.

The purpose of the operation was to bust in and send the cartel a very clear message.

“Everyone ready?” Zach asked, making a visual inspection of the men around him. Many of them gave the thumbs up. “Okay, let’s do this.”

The strike team moved toward the safehouse’s front door, Zach in the lead. The last man stayed by the window to give one final look before they charged across the street and attacked the target.

“Go,” came the okay from the window.

Zach pushed open the front door, ten men in full close-quarters battle gear behind him. This was the most vulnerable part of the operation. The adrenaline was pumping through Zach’s veins as they reached the parched front lawn of the bungalow, and then the main entrance. He tried the handle and found it locked.

“Breacher,” Zach called out to Colton, who ran up and fired the shotgun slug between the handle and the doorframe. Zach then took a step back and kicked it in, shouting as he entered the house. The place was littered with empty chip bags and beer cans. One cartel member sprang from the couch, reaching for the rifle at his feet. Zach and the two men covering him opened fire at once, riddling the man’s body. He was dead before they stopped shooting. They then swept the rest of the house, one team moving left through the living room and another heading right down a hallway past the kitchen.

In the distance, Zach listened as they called, “Clear!” as each room was checked. He kicked open a bedroom door at the end of the hallway. A stained king-sized mattress lay on the floor, surrounded by more trash. They moved in. Colton, who was on Zach’s right, covered his angle and shouted in alarm. A cartel member was halfway out the window. Colton opened fire with his shotgun, hitting the man under the armpit, opening up his chest. The thug collapsed, dead.

“Clear,” a ranger called on Zach’s left.

Seconds later, the team led by Travis found them and announced the rest of the house was clean.

“Find anything useful?” Zach asked.

“A few weapons and boxes of ammo. Also a bunch of handwritten orders. Seems half the time the cartel doesn’t bother with shortwaves or walkie-talkies.”

Perhaps they were worried about being monitored or having their messages recorded.

“Pack all that stuff up and begin setting the charges.” Zach turned to his son, who looked pale. “This can’t be your first blood?” he asked, puzzled by his son’s reaction.

Colton shook his head. “No.”

“Don’t worry. It keeps getting easier. Believe me.”

•••

T
hey planted the charges in three rooms, connecting them to one another by wires. A piece of fishing line led from the front door handle to the detonator switch. As soon as the next cartel member pushed their way inside, the place would go sky high. Travis had originally advised using a single charge, but Zach’s philosophy of ‘go big or go home’ had won out.

With that done, the strike team moved the bodies into the basement and retreated back to the house across the street. Zach felt it was important to know precisely how many cartel members the blast would eliminate. If they were lucky, an entire quick reaction force would show up to join the party. Once the blast rocked the house, Zach’s team would finish off any remaining survivors before heading back to base.

The seconds and minutes ticked by at a glacial pace and Zach was beginning to wonder whether anyone would ever show up. Then a signal came from the lookout that a pair of dark SUVs were approaching. As they drew closer, Zach’s heart began to gallop in his chest. After what they’d done to his biker crew, killing two cartel members felt good—killing another five or six, well, there were just no words.

The SUVs pulled into the driveway. One cartel henchmen exited the lead vehicle and headed for the house.

“Wait for everyone else,” Zach shouted as the first guy reached the front door and stopped, his hand resting on the smooth wooden surface. He was calling back to the others, telling them to come. “That’s right, the more the merrier. Why not have a party?”

Two more cartel members emerged and they opened the back doors. Maybe they were transporting VIPs. Zach could see this was going to be a bigger victory than he expected.

“Wait a sec,” Travis said. “Who is that with them?”

The two cartel men opened the hatches on both SUVs and pulled out more people. Altogether they had ten women, their hands zip-tied and lashed together two by two. These weren’t cartel women, they were Americans, townspeople from Encendido, probably picked up in some sort of raid. The lead guy was waving them all forward. He hadn’t seen the hole in the door. Didn’t realize yet that anything was amiss.