Page 45 of Fierce Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #3)

Adrenaline surging hot and hard, Deke scanned the dim space, visibility dampened by the haze from the grenade.

Through the chemical mist, he spotted Jade and DJ slumped against each other on an old workbench about twenty feet away, faces pinched tightly shut, flinching from lingering echoes of pain.

Neither seemed fully aware of his presence, temporarily deafened and blinded, heads lowered protectively.

Sarah was doubled over. Hands pressed against her eyes. Weapon abandoned at her feet. Temporarily blinded and vulnerable, she braced herself against a pile of old wooden crates that stretched toward the three-story ceiling.

Christian advanced swiftly, gun steady and confident.

Deke rushed toward Jade and DJ, knife drawn. He was ten feet away when DJ shook his head, like a wet dog and jumped up, confused and disoriented.

“DJ! It’s me.” He shouted, but his son clearly hadn’t regained his hearing.

Giving no sign that he heard Deke, he stumbled away from the bench—his wrists already free—unknowingly moving directly toward Sarah.

Before Deke could shout a warning, Sarah rose.

Spotting Christian, she kicked wildly at the towering stack of crates.

“Watch out!” Deke warned. But it was too late.

Christian attempted to dodge, but the falling crates caught him off-guard, knocking him violently to the ground and pinning him momentarily beneath the debris.

Deke halted instinctively, torn between assisting his partner and reaching his son.

Those critical seconds of hesitation cost him dearly.

Sarah, her vision clearing, lunged frantically toward her fallen weapon and scooped it off the floor. Before Deke could close the gap, she reached DJ, grabbing him roughly and jerking him upright. DJ stumbled, eyes wide with shock, as Sarah pressed the gun tightly to his side.

“Stay back!” Sarah shrieked, backing slowly toward the black SUV. “Stay back, or I’ll kill him!”

Deke’s heart seized, and he froze in place, muscles coiled tightly with helpless tension. He stared at his son, struggling to maintain composure, desperately searching for an opening.

He glanced at Christian, who struggled to rise, clearly stunned but beginning to recover.

“Sarah, don’t,” Deke pleaded carefully, raising one calming hand while keeping the other firmly on his weapon. “Just let DJ go.”

Sarah shook her head frantically, edging toward the door, eyes darting wildly. “I’ll shoot him. Don’t test me.”

Deke froze, heart seizing at the sight of DJ under threat. Only fifteen feet separated him from his son, the distance now an unbearable chasm.

He raised both hands now, handgun dangling uselessly from his index finger. “Easy. Sarah, think about this.”

“There’s nothing to think about.” Holding DJ in front of her like a shield, she backed toward the SUV. “You’re going to let me drive out of here, or I put a bullet in the kid.”

Hands still tied behind her back, Jade struggled to her feet, face contorted with fear and rage. “Sarah, don’t do this. He’s just a child.”

“Shut up!” Sarah snapped, tightening her grip on DJ, who winced in pain. “This is your fault. All of it.”

Deke maintained eye contact with DJ, trying to project calm confidence despite the chaos erupting inside him. “You okay, buddy?”

DJ nodded slightly, his face pale but determined. “I knew you’d come, Dad.”

The simple faith in those words threatened to undo him completely. He swallowed hard, refocusing.

There were too many crates scattered between them to make an effective move. Same with Christian. They needed to buy time. Get her to reposition.

Christian staggered to his feet, blood dripping down the side of his face. If looks could kill, the molten fury on his friend’s face would have melted the woman right on the spot.

“Give it up,” Christian said. “You’re surrounded. There’s no way out of this building that doesn’t end with you in handcuffs.”

Sarah gaped at Christian as if he were an idiot. “You have no idea what’s at stake here. If I don’t disappear, they’ll kill me, whether I’m in jail or not.”

“Who will?” Deke asked, mind racing for any advantage, any distraction that might give him or Christian a clean shot. “Wycoff’s clients? We know about the money laundering.”

“You don’t know anything,” she snarled, but uncertainty flickered across her face.

“Pretty sure you’re wrong about that. Wycoff’s dead. Chad’s in custody. There are no more escape routes, Sarah.”

“You’re lying,” she said, but her voice wavered.

Deke took a half-step forward. “Sarah, look at me. This ends one of two ways. Either you let DJ go and you walk out of here in handcuffs, or you don’t walk out at all.”

His voice dropped, deadly quiet. “That’s my son you’re holding. Think very carefully about your next move.”

Sarah’s eyes darted frantically between Deke and Christian as she calculated her dwindling options. The gun trembled slightly against DJ’s side.

Jade called out softly from her position behind him. “It’s over, Sarah. Don’t make it worse.”

For a moment, indecision clouded Sarah’s features. Then her expression hardened, resolve replacing panic.

“No,” she said flatly. “I’m driving out of here. Now.”

Deke’s finger tensed against the trigger guard, searching desperately for a clean shot that wouldn’t risk DJ. With his gun dangling, he’d need an extra second.

His comm crackled softly in his ear.

“I’m green.” Ronan’s calm voice came over the comlink. “Repeat. I have a shot. Northwest window, clear line of sight. Ready on your command, Big Daddy.”

Deke’s knees went weak with relief, but he didn’t respond. Any acknowledgment might alert Sarah. He calculated quickly. Ronan was wasn’t the expert sniper Christian and Griff were, but at that range, with his sidearm, the shot was definitely doable.

But the risk to DJ was still too great.

“Hold,” he whispered.

For now. All he needed to do was get DJ to move a couple inches to the right, and this ended. The woman would be dead before she realized it.

Unless she gave up. Drawing on every ounce of his training, and his faith, he focused on her.

On the gun pressed against his son’s side.

On the wild desperation in her eyes.

If DJ moved, she died. Unless she surrendered.

“Last chance, Sarah,” he said, every word measured and deliberate. “Let. Him. Go.”