Chapter 6 - The Battle in the Gardens-6
I slammed the SUV to a halt in front of the burning guest house, sending gravel spraying across the lawn.
Flames were roaring out of the second-story windows, thick orange light illuminating the darkening autumn sky. The sound of crackling wood and shattering glass filled the air.
I threw my car door open, pulled my pistol from my coat, and hit the ground running.
"ELENA! LEO!" I screamed into the smoke-filled air.
Near the back patio, three men in black tactical uniforms and tactical masks were violently dragging a struggling figure toward an idling black van.
It was Elena. Her hair was torn, her face smeared with soot, but she was fighting with the ferocious, terrifying strength of a mother protecting her child. She was biting, kicking, and clawing at the face of a man who was trying to pin her arms behind her back.
Inside the open sliding door of the van, another tactical guard was holding four-year-old Leo, who was screaming hysterically: "MOMMY! MOMMY! GRANDPA!"
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!" I roared.
The guard holding Elena turned around, pulling a suppressed pistol from his holster.
I didn't wait for him to aim. I raised my weapon and fired three rapid shots. The heavy 9mm rounds struck the guard square in the chest. He collapsed onto the flagstone patio with a heavy thud.
The second contractor dropped Elena and reached for his rifle, but Elena didn't hesitate—she grabbed a heavy stone garden statue from the table beside her and slammed it with all her strength into the side of the man's head. The contractor staggered backward, dazed, before I closed the distance and brought the heavy butt of my pistol down across his jaw, knocking him unconscious.
"RAYMOND!" Elena screamed, throwing her arms around me for a fraction of a second before pointing frantically at the van. "LEO IS IN THE VAN!"
The third contractor inside the vehicle slammed the sliding door shut and yelled to the driver: "GO! GO! GO!"
The black van’s engine roared to life, its heavy tires spinning violently on the wet grass, tearing across the rose garden toward the rear estate exit.
"STAY HERE, ELENA!" I shouted.
I sprinted back to my armored SUV, threw myself into the driver's seat, jammed the gearstick into drive, and slammed the accelerator to the floor.
The heavy V8 engine roared like a wild beast as the armored vehicle surged forward, cutting across the manicured lawns, destroying marble statues and wooden fences in a mad dash to intercept the fleeing van.
The van reached the narrow stone archway near the property's rear exit.
I didn't brake. I didn't slow down.
I rammed the heavy steel bumper of my armored SUV directly into the rear quarter-panel of the black van at forty miles an hour.
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BOOM!
The force of the collision sent the van spinning out of control. It struck the ancient stone pillar of the archway, flipped onto its side, and skidded across the gravel before coming to a grinding halt against a massive oak tree.
