Chapter 9 - The Lakehouse Ambush
The private lodge sat at the edge of a deep, pine-fringed lake, completely isolated from the main estate grounds. Miller pulled the SUV around to the back entrance, killing the engine immediately.
“Stay in the vehicle, Mrs. Ellis,” Miller ordered, drawing his sidearm with practiced smoothness. “Lock the doors from the inside.”
“I’m not sitting like a target, Miller,” Nora said, already unclasping her seatbelt and checking the heavy-duty latch on Maisie’s car seat. “If they want us, they have to go through the door.”
Before Miller could argue, the sound of tires screeching on gravel echoed outside. The gray sedan pulled into the clearing, blocking the only exit route from the lodge. Two men in tactical black gear stepped out, raising silenced carbines toward the SUV.
Instinct took over. Nora kicked open the passenger door, scooped Maisie into her arms, and scrambled low toward the heavy timber frame of the lodge’s rear porch, just as a volley of suppressed rounds shattered the SUV’s rear windshield. Glass rained down across the leather seats.
“Miller!” Nora shouted over the crack of splintering wood.
“I’m pinned!” Miller yelled back from behind the engine block, returning fire with measured, rhythmic shots that forced the attackers to dive behind their vehicle.
Nora pushed open the heavy wooden back door of the lodge, ushering Maisie inside into the dim, wood-paneled hallway. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her mind was fiercely clear. She remembered the layout from the estate blueprints she’d memorized during her first month on the job. The lodge had an old storm cellar beneath the pantry—a secondary panic room installed decades ago.
“Maisie, hold my hand tight,” Nora whispered, kneeling down and looking into her daughter’s wide, brave eyes.
“Are we playing hide and seek?” Maisie asked, her voice barely a tremble.
“The best kind,” Nora smiled fiercely. “And we’re winning.”
She hurried them down the hall, sliding open the heavy pantry door just as heavy boots crunched on the gravel outside the front entrance. Someone had kicked the front door open.
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“Clear the lower level!” a harsh voice shouted inside the lodge.
Nora guided Maisie down the narrow wooden stairs into the dark storm cellar, pulling the heavy iron latch shut from the inside just as footsteps echoed across the floorboards directly above their heads.
