Chapter 5 - The Ambush"Ethan," I gasped, my eyes darting frantically around the property. The trees surrounding the driveway cast long, ominous shadows in the twilight. "You're violating your bail. The police are already on their way."
It was a lie, but I needed to buy time.
"The police aren't coming," Ethan laughed, a wet, ragged sound. "I disabled the security cameras before you even left for the lawyer's office. Your dear old dad thinks he’s so smart, but he forgot who installed the system."
Through the windshield, I saw my father disappear around the back of the house, sweeping the perimeter. He was moving away from the car. Away from me.
"What do you want?" I demanded, keeping my voice steady. I locked the doors, double-checking the heavy locks on the SUV.
"I want what’s mine," Ethan said. I could hear the sound of heavy rain on his end of the phone, perfectly matching the rain outside. He was close. "You ruined my life, Claire. My command suspended me. The bank froze my accounts. Margaret had to pawn her jewelry to pay my bail. I have bookies threatening to break my legs."
"You did this to yourself!" I yelled into the phone, adrenaline surging through my pregnant body. "You abused me! You tried to steal my inheritance!"
"You're my wife! What’s yours is mine!" he screamed back.
Suddenly, a heavy, violent THUD rocked the back of the SUV.
I screamed, dropping the phone. I twisted in my seat.
Standing behind the vehicle, bathed in the red glow of the taillights, was a massive man wearing a dark rain slicker. It wasn't Ethan. The man held a steel crowbar in his right hand.
He raised it and brought it down viciously against the reinforced rear window. The glass spider-webbed but held. My father’s SUV was armored—a detail Ethan clearly hadn't anticipated.
"Dad!" I screamed, slamming my hand on the car horn, sending a blaring, continuous wail into the stormy evening.
The man in the slicker cursed, rushing around to the driver's side. He raised the crowbar again, aiming for the window right next to my head.
Before he could swing, a figure emerged from the rain like a phantom.
My father tackled the man from the side, the two of them crashing into the muddy driveway. The crowbar clattered across the asphalt. The man was younger and heavier, but my father fought with the brutal, calculated efficiency of a seasoned soldier.
He landed two devastating blows to the man's ribs, followed by a strike to the throat. The attacker gagged, rolling away and scrambling to his feet. Seeing the Glock in my father's hand, the man didn't hesitate. He turned and sprinted toward the treeline, disappearing into the dark.
My father didn't chase him. He immediately pivoted back to the SUV, tapping on the glass. I unlocked the door, trembling violently.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, scanning me from head to toe.
"No, I'm okay," I sobbed, clutching my stomach. "Dad, Ethan was on the phone. He sent that man. He’s watching us."
My father’s eyes narrowed. He looked at the dropped phone on the console, then out into the pouring rain.
"He didn't just send a thug," my father said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "He sent a distraction."
"A distraction for what?" I asked.
Suddenly, a bright orange glow illuminated the rain-slicked windows of the car. We both turned toward the house.
Flames were licking up the side of the wooden wraparound porch, thick black smoke billowing into the sky. Someone had doused the side of the historic estate in gasoline.
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Ethan wasn't trying to break into the house.
If he couldn't have the trust... he was going to burn it to the ground.
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