The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) James Best (best books to read all time .txt) 📖

suitcase would accommodate some additional weapons. Never a bad idea when professional killers were after you. He rolled the suitcase to a gun safe in the master closet. After he opened it, he smiled. Trish’s favorite pistol was missing. She had armed herself. Good for her. He pulled out two additional pistols, a USMC KA-Bar knife, and an Armalite M-15 LE Carbine designed for law enforcement. After packing ammunition, Evarts was glad he had chosen a sturdy roller bag to handle the weight.

When he rolled the bag to the garage, he was taken aback for a moment. He had forgotten that his truck was in an autobody shop. He glanced at the other two vehicles backed into the five-car garage. He considered the Sprinter that he used for surfing but decided against it. As a getaway vehicle, the Sprinter was awkward to drive and easy to spot. He seldom used his assigned police Utility Interceptor but that would have to do. On normal days, he drove his civilian pickup truck because the Interceptor screamed police, and he preferred to surveil his town unnoticed.

After loading his gear in back, he was about to open the garage door when the home security system sounded an alarm. He unzipped the bag and pulled out the M-15 before going to a monitor in a tiny office off the mudroom.

He felt himself suck in a breath. Four armed men approached the house.

Chapter 22

How did they get past the gate without setting off the alarm? Damn. As least the motion or vibration sensors had given him warning. He watched two approach the front door and the other two split up to go down either side of the house. The two at the front stayed with their back against the wall. One with a phone to his ear. They were waiting for their cohorts to assess the rear of the house.

Evarts decided these odds were not in his favor.

He got into his Interceptor and started the motor. The garage was fifty feet to the side of the front door, so the men in front hopefully would not hear the quiet motor. He lightly depressed the accelerator while in park and hit the garage door remote. He watched the garage door through the rearview mirror until he could see the bottom rise to just above the bottom of car’s rear window, then he dropped the transmission into reverse and slammed the accelerator to the floorboard.  He crashed through the partially open door, spun the wheel, and skidded into a tight turn that put the front of the car heading for the gate. Before he even fully completed the turn, he triggered the gate remote and again pressed the gas pedal to the floor. His gravel driveway spewed pebbles everywhere and inhibited traction, but the all-wheel drive soon caught purchase and sped toward the gate. A glance to the rearview mirror showed the assailants raising weapons. He swerved. The utility vehicle bounced over a low curb and slid on the larger groundcover stones that provided fill for their natural landscaping. The Interceptor automatically downshifted and continued to pick up momentum. Evarts heard gunfire and bent low. A couple thuds meant that bullets had hit the car, so he veered sharply back onto the drive, keeping the gas pedal depressed.

It was going to be close. His steel gate inhibited crash-throughs and it was only partially open. He had to chance it. Aiming for the center, he willed it to open faster until the Interceptor flew through the opening without an inch to spare on either side. He slammed the brake pedal with both feet, sliding through the driveway that extended beyond the gate … and into the street. He braced for a crash. His luck held. No oncoming traffic. Then his luck ran out. Two additional men lingered by cars parked alongside the road. Evarts let off the brakes and punched the accelerator as he struggled to make a sliding turn into the road. One back wheel skidded onto the shoulder and more rocks got thrown in his wake.

He was gone.

The sentries had been too startled to shoot at him and a road curve took him out of their sight. Would they give chase? If they were smart, the two of them would jump in one car and leave the other for their comrades. Were they smart? He soon got a glimpse of a pursuit car in the distance. Thankfully, a rental car. The full-size sedan couldn’t match his Interceptor. He continued to drive hard as he flipped on the police radio and grabbed his mic. Before he could speak, he heard the dispatcher announce gunfire at his address. The gunshot detection locator system he had installed throughout the city had done its job and alerted the station.

He triggered the mic. “This is Chief Evarts. Armed assailants at my home. One car in pursuit and another still at the house. Armed and dangerous. Do not approach. Blockade the street. Repeat, do not approach.”

“Roger that.”

“I’m on North San Marcos Road in my Utility Interceptor. Set up roadblock at Twinridge Road. Close it as soon as I pass.”

“Roger. Where on North San Marcos?”

“Just passed the Farm Collective.”

“May not make it in time, chief.”

Now what? Continue running or block the road with his own vehicle? He wanted to know who sent these men. The only way to find out would be to capture one or more alive. Besides, they wouldn’t expect him to stand and fight.

He wheeled around a near ninety-degree turn and Twinridge Road lay five hundred feet ahead. He kept on the gas a bit longer and then broke hard. When his speed slowed to twenty miles an hour, he cut a hard turn and slid the Interceptor to block both sides of the two-lane road just prior to the intersection. He grabbed the M-15 and jumped out of the vehicle.

He examined the situation. As soon as the sedan driver completed the curve, he would see his car