Hush by Carey Baldwin

made his way back outside—and then he went exploring. By the looks of the place, no one had lived here in years, so no potted plants to smash. If he remembered correctly, there was a sliding glass door on the east side of the house. That would get him into the room all right, but not before Caleb and Hawkins could spot him. He needed the advantage of a surprise attack.
    If he could just lure one of the men to the back of the house, he could subdue him, confiscate his pistol and then sneak back in through the front.
    But how to set the trap?
    There had to be something around this place he could use. A glint of reflected sunlight caught his attention. He ducked his head around the corner to check it out and sure enough there it was, his made-to-order distraction.
    Old tin trash cans.
    He lifted a lid in each hand and banged them together, over and over again. He made one hell of a ruckus imagining the trashcan lids as Caleb and Hawkins’ heads.

    A NNA DIDN’T KNOW how long Hawkins and Caleb had been bickering, but the longer the men argued the more time she had to come up with a plan. Her thoughts were racing when, from somewhere outside, a loud, tinny ruckus interrupted, repeated, crescendoed. It sounded like cymbals crashing up from an orchestra pit.
    Anna’s heart leapt.
    Charlie!
    That had to be Charlie.
    “What the hell?” Hawkins jumped and spun toward the sound.
    To Anna, it looked as if he might piss himself after all.
    “Sounds like…trash cans. Probably a raccoon, but you better check it out,” Caleb said.
    “Me?” Hawkins peered around the room like a schoolgirl who’d just seen a mouse and needed a chair to climb.
    “How the hell did a little chickenshit like you ever make sheriff?” Caleb snickered. “Oh yeah. I pulled the strings that got you where you are today. So stop with the bullshit and go check out that noise.”
    Hawkins face hardened. “Whatever you say, boss.” He started toward the door, then turned. “Just one thing I gotta take care of first.” He raised his arm.
    A booming noise.
    A muzzle flash.
    Scarlet bloomed onto the front of Nate’s shirt.
    Nate fell back onto Simone and together they folded to the ground. Covered in crimson spatters, Simone hovered on hands and knees beside Nate, sobbing. Bobby wailed, then crawled through a pool of his father’s blood.
    Hawkins’ whole body started to shake. Sweat beaded his brow and dripped from his nose onto his upper lip. “I had to do it, Caleb. You would’ve let him run the minute I was out this door.”
    Caleb yanked his arm up.

    C HARLIE WAS STARTING to feel a little smug, a little smarter than he ought to, banging on those trash cans when suddenly…
    Crack!
    The unmistakable sound of gunfire.
    No more time for wits and strategy.
    Charlie ran like hell to the nearest entry point, the glass door on the east wall of the house, just in time to see Caleb Carlisle yank his arm up and point his gun at Hawkins.
    A loud boom followed a muzzle flash.
    Hawkins chest jerked, and his body blew back against the wall.
    Nate lay in a pool of blood—one arm twitching.
    Charlie grabbed a patio chair, smashed it through the sliding glass door. Then he followed the chair and dove into the room in a hailstorm of glass and thunder.
    Once inside the room, his assessment was lightning fast.
    Two men down.
    Caleb—still armed.
    Charlie sprang over Nate’s body and tackled Carlisle from behind. The SOB bent at the waist and elbowed Charlie in the gut. An elbow couldn’t stop Charlie. He climbed Caleb like he was a bronco, locked onto his gun hand and twisted with all his might. When that didn’t work, he used his thumb to put pressure on the radial nerve, the underside of Carlisle’s wrist. The gun thudded to the floor.
    Carlisle growled and bucked harder.
    Charlie rode the adrenaline-fueled bull, doing his damnedest to steer Caleb away from the women. Charlie’s arms burned from the tight chokehold he had on Carlisle, but he had no intention