rel="nofollow" href="#u2e3885ce-6864-5590-b7d0-940734ea076d">Chapter Six
Chapter One
Branches scraped the side of his four-wheel-drive truck with a sound like fingernails on a blackboard as Caleb Carlisle negotiated the turn onto the sorry excuse for a road that led to the Driscoe brothers’ compound. Ancient redwood trees spread their branches over the mud-and-gravel lane, darkening the already gloomy day. A distant rumble of thunder warned of a coming storm.
“I sure hope this rain holds off for a while,” he said to his partner, Brandon Everly, who lounged in the passenger seat. Brandon’s demeanor was deceptive. They both knew how important this meeting was.
As the road rose sharply, Caleb downshifted. Thunder growled again, closer this time. He accelerated over the last hump and drove into the compound.
Brandon reached behind the seat and grabbed the two backpacks that held the quarter million in cash for the supposed exchange. He handed one to Caleb. “Ready?”
Caleb nodded. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins. The Driscoes had been selling cocaine to the local teenagers like candy. It had taken months of undercover work to get to this point. Now all they needed was the identity of the brothers’ superior, the man who could lead them to their international connection. But whether or not they gave up their boss, the Driscoes were going down. Today.
Caleb and Brandon exited the vehicle and headed for the ramshackle barn that housed one of the most efficient cocaine-distribution centers in the state.
Jim Driscoe walked out of the building. Big and beefy, Jim stopped about twenty feet from them, chewing on a toothpick and studying them with shadowed eyes. His brothers followed him out, flanking him. Short fat J.P. stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt. Thin wiry Henry moved restlessly. None of them said a word.
A prickle crawled up Caleb’s spine. Something had gone wrong, he knew it. That sixth sense had saved his butt many times before, and he wasn’t about to question it now.
Caleb grinned over his foreboding. “What’s goin’ on, guys? We waitin’ for Larkin?” That weasel, the fourth in this little group of thugs, was always slinking around. His absence made Caleb uneasy.
A flash of lightning eerily lit the brothers’ unpleasant faces. A loud clap of thunder followed.
Caleb looked up at the sky. “Big storm comin’.” He glanced at the brothers. “Let’s go inside. We brought you some goodies.”
He took a couple of steps forward, but the brothers didn’t move.
Jim pulled out a handgun. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, pig.”
His younger brothers shifted their positions, cutting off Caleb and Brandon’s access to the truck.
“What’s up, man?” Brandon asked, using his jittery cokehead voice. “We brought you cash, and you pull a gun on us? I thought we were partners, man.”
A vicious look came to Jim’s face, and he raised his gun. “We ain’t partners with no cops.”
Caleb threw his bag in Jim’s face at the same time Brandon threw his at Henry. Before J.P. could even react, they pulled out their weapons and dove for cover. Within seconds the Driscoes opened fire.
There was a flash of lightning, then another. Thunder almost drowned out the sound of gunfire. And then the sky let loose, pouring down buckets of rain.
Caleb took a quick visual inventory of the situation. They were outnumbered and outflanked by Jim and his brothers.
Jim barked orders at J.P. “Henry and I will take care of them. You get Larkin, then stay by that truck. Don’t let those pigs near it. And tell Larkin to call Mick now.”
Registering the new name just added to the mix, Caleb looked at his partner. They had a choice: Go up the mountain or down. Brandon gestured up. So up they went.
The storm didn’t let up as they struggled through the overgrown ferns and bushes that covered the forest floor. They could hear Jim and Henry crashing through the undergrowth close behind them. The dense foliage and heavy rain didn’t make it any easier for the brothers, either.
Caleb stopped under a huge redwood for a moment to monitor the drug dealers’ progress. Jim and Henry were climbing slowly but steadily up the hill.
He resumed his trek, increasing his speed to catch up with his partner. They couldn’t carry on this pace forever. They had to find a way to take out Jim and Henry, then go back for the others.
Reaching a rushing stream, Caleb stopped Brandon. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Maybe we can circle around and get a jump on them.”
Brandon wiped rain out of his eyes. “You take that side of the stream. I’ll take this side.”
Caleb jumped over the water, then began to circle back. In the silence that followed a clap of thunder, he could hear movement in the bushes not far from where he stood. He stayed absolutely still. Then he caught a glimpse of red plaid—Henry’s shirt. When he couldn’t see Jim anywhere, he realized the brothers had split up.
He waited behind a huge redwood until Henry came nearer, then called out, “That’s far enough, Henry. Drop your gun.”
Henry shot toward the tree. One went wide. The second splattered mud on his boots.
Another shot and bark splintered inches from Caleb’s face. That was close, he thought. Too close.
Blinking to clear his eyes of the pouring rain, Caleb raised his own weapon. He could hear the rustle of foliage.
“Come on, Henry, you know you aren’t going to get away with this,” Caleb said, keeping his tone friendly. “Why don’t you just put down the gun?”
“I’m
