CHAPTER 14 — Blood in the Colorado Snow
The wind howled through the skeletal remains of the abandoned logging facility. The snow was falling horizontally, creating a blinding whiteout. I stood in the center of the clearing, the heavy duffel bag slung over my shoulder. My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my teeth.
Hidden in the treeline, a quarter-mile away, the FBI tactical team was waiting. Amy was in the command van, listening to my every breath through the wire taped to my chest.
A pair of headlights pierced the blizzard. A black SUV rolled into the clearing, its tires crunching over the frozen gravel. The doors opened, and two men stepped out.
One was Richard Bradley. He looked exactly as he had twenty-six years ago, just grayer and harder. He was wearing a long, black overcoat, a smug smile plastered across his face.
The second man made my blood boil. It was my cousin, Mason. He had been released on parole six months ago, and apparently, he had immediately run to my father's criminal enterprise for a job. Mason held a suppressed pistol in his hand, keeping it pointed squarely at my chest.
"Connor!" Richard yelled over the howling wind, spreading his arms wide. "Look at you. All grown up. Do you have the money?"
"I have it," I shouted back, holding up the duffel bag. "But the deal changes. You give me the hard drives with the fake audio of Amy. And you sign a document releasing the lien."
Richard laughed. It was a sinister, grating sound. "You're not in a position to negotiate, son. Mason, grab the bag."
Mason stepped forward, his eyes filled with a bitter hatred. "I spent two years in a cage because of you, Connor," he spat.
"You spent two years in a cage because you're a thief," I replied coldly.
Mason snatched the bag from my hands. He unzipped it, reaching inside. His face dropped. He pulled out a stack of old magazines and a single, heavy brick.
"It's fake!" Mason yelled, raising his gun. "He brought a decoy!"
Richard's smug smile vanished. His face twisted into pure, murderous rage. "You stupid, arrogant boy. Did you really think you could outsmart me? I’ll kill you right here, and then I’ll pay a visit to your lovely wife."
"I don't think so, Richard," I said, my voice eerily calm despite the gun pointed at my chest. I looked directly at the hidden microphone under my collar. "Now."
Before Mason could pull the trigger, the treeline erupted.
Blinding spotlight beams cut through the blizzard, illuminating the entire clearing like a football stadium. The deafening sound of a bullhorn echoed over the roaring wind.
"FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION! DROP YOUR WEAPONS! PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!"
Dozens of heavily armed tactical agents swarmed out of the snow, their laser sights painting red dots all over Richard and Mason.
Mason dropped his gun instantly, falling to his knees and bursting into pathetic sobs. But Richard didn't surrender. He panicked. He lunged toward his SUV, reaching inside his coat for a weapon.
"Suspect is reaching!" an agent yelled.
A single shot rang out. Not a lethal one, but a precision shot from a sniper that shattered the window of the SUV, sending a shower of glass into Richard’s face. He stumbled backward, slipping on the ice, and fell hard onto his back.
Within seconds, agents were on top of him. They wrenched his arms behind his back, the beautiful sound of ratcheting handcuffs echoing in the frigid air.
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As they dragged my father up from the snow, his face bloodied and his empire shattered, he locked eyes with me. There was no smugness left. Only the hollow, terrifying realization that he had lost everything to the son he had abandoned.
"It's over, Richard," I told him, standing tall. "You're going to die in a cage, exactly where you belong."
