The night was dark, the moon not even wanting to show itself. Vince and Jenn sat in the dining room, which sat between the kitchen and the living room, between both the front and back doors. It was a strategic location for defending the house. Jenn's job was to watch the back, Vince's the front. Their Glocks sat on the table in front of them, extra clips sat on the floor near the archways that led into the room. Two Remington shotguns leaned against the walls by the archways, too, their heavy artillery.
They barely spoke a word, barely breathed. Each knew that this could go very badly.
"Claire ok?" Vince asked in the stillness.
"I dunno," Jenn answered quietly, looking at the table. "She's kind of out of it. Did you notice how blue her eyes are?"
"Yeah," Vince sighed.
"Something's happening to us."
"I know. We'll leave after tonight," Vince said softly, placing his hand on her forearm reassuringly.
The lights from an approaching car flashed in the front window and they both looked up. Vince squeezed her forearm and stood, moving to the archway that led into the living room. "Get ready," he whispered.
Jenn moved to the back archway, crouching down, her pistol ready in her hand.
Vince watched the car's lights as it stopped in the driveway. They could hear a car door shut and saw the silhouette of a person against the lights as he walked onto the front porch and to the door. The person hit the door hard three times, knocking.
Suspiciously, Vince moved to the side of the door and peered out. The blackness kept him from recognizing anyone. He used one hand to deactivate the alarm, flicked the porchlight on, and swiftly pulled the door open. A man stood holding the screen door open, one hand raised, shielding his eyes from the offending porchlight.
"Reed?" Frymire asked. "The Captain said we were moving you tonight."
"Frymire?" Vince didn't look too surprised. He suspected Frymire was dirty. "Tonight?"
"Yeah. Grab the girl and lets get out of here. It's cold as hell."
Vince looked hard at him. Why a man would throw away a good career was beyond him. "Sorry, but I'll have to clear that with the Captain." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, taking his eyes off Frymire for only a second. But a second was all the dirty cop needed.
Frymire lifted his gun towards Vince. "Put the gun and phone down, good buddy," he said softly. Vince dropped the gun and phone to the floor with a clatter. "Back up," he commanded, flicking the gun to double indicate his wishes. He took a step in the door and felt something strike across his shins and then break loose. Too late to react, powerful spotlights turned on, blinding him. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes as Vince lunged, grabbing the gun arm and twisting it out of the way.
Vince was stronger than Frymire and younger, but the older cop still had some fight in him, especially with his life on the line. He fell forward into Vince and twisted his arm back, putting the gun between them. They struggled for control, both knowing that one shot at this close a range would be the end for one of them.
Jenn heard the scuffle and moved to the front archway, her gun held low. She crouched down and raised it, hoping for one good shot. The spotlight cast harsh shadows on the wall as the two fought for control of the gun.
The two fell to the ground and a moment later the gun went off, the harsh sound echoing through the small room. Jenn waited a moment, holding her breath, wondering who was going to rise, when a crash at the back door indicated more assailants. The spotlight flashed on in the kitchen before she could get to the archway and saw a large shadow enter the room. She shot, but it went wild. Shadows moved everywhere and it was hard to determine what was a true target. She moved swiftly into the room and turned towards the target, firing again.
She missed as the bulking man dropped behind the stove. As she moved for a better angle, her blood froze as she heard a voice behind her.
"Don't move a muscle, cop," Joey said triumphantly. "Now, drop it... slowly."
Jenn closed her eyes realizing her mistake too late. She released her hold in the gun, letting it fall to the ground. The large, muscled man came out from behind the stove and grabbed her gun from the ground as she felt a pistol push into her back, an arm wrap around her throat.
"Let's go," Joey said, hissing into her ear. She held her arms up as Joey walked her into the dining room and through to the archway leading to the living room. "I have your partner," Joey said loudly. "Don't make me shoot her."
The body on the floor near the front door was lying in a pool of blood that was still spreading. She said a quick and silent prayer that it wasn't Vince.
