Page 174 of Cautious Love

He nods, and I help him to his feet, keeping my head down.

“Status,” I call through the walkie.

“Moving in on the barn, the house is unbleached. I repeat, the house has not been entered.”

“Roger,” I respond.

Beckett nods, ready to go, and we join the other team going to the house to the right.

Bullets start breaking glass, aiming straight for us, and we take cover, firing back when the opportunity arises.

There’s no time to think or consider.

There’s only response.

We encroach on the house as someone fires from the upper floor. Beckett and I get to the side where the angle can’t reach, and someone comes around the back, gun pointed at Beckett. I fire and the man drops.

I run over to him and kick the gun away, flipping the man onto his stomach and grabbing my zip ties to pull his wrists together.

“Come on, man! You shot me!”

“I shot you in the knee. You’ll live,” I grumble.

Bullets continue to rain down from the house. A few SRT take some and we have one officer down, with medics on route. We had them on standby for this exact reason.

Eventually, we climb up the steps to the front porch and kick the door in.

I check the right. Beckett checks his left. “Clear!”

Three SRT come in behind and go back towards the living room.

“Sheriffs Department! Truman Kensington, we have a warrant. Come out with your hands up and we can end this!” I yell.

A few more bullets fly out, but nothing within the house. I’ve never been in here, but Will was able to give us some insight into the layout.

I motion to Beckett I’m headed up the stairs.

He nods, gesturing back.

I quickly check the higher vantage point, and no one is there. When I make it to the top, Beckett and two others join me.

We clear each room one by one and find Mrs. Kensington and Kate hiding in their closet with streaks of mascara running down Kate’s face, and Mrs. K looks madder than a hornet’s nest. “Kate, Mrs. K,” I mumble gesturing for them to get out.

Beckett grabs his zip ties, pulling them around their wrists.

“Keep them here,” I tell one of the agents. He nods, and we continue checking the house.

When we get to the last room, the door nearly blows off the hinges with a shotgun blast.

We fall back for cover as my ears ring from the blast.

The other two approach the door, and someone keeps firing. We hold back, waiting for our moment. When the bullets stop. They move in, bringing down whoever was in there.

I follow them in, and it’s not Kensington Sr. It’s one of his ranch hands, Jacob Dunn.

A bullet hole, center mass bleeds profusely and I check his pulse. It’s barely there, but I put pressure on his wound.

An SRT agent takes over performing field response, and we call for another medic.