Chasing the Lost Read Online Free

strapped already.
    Then he looked up at the tree limbs poking through the ceiling, then at the fireplace. At least he’d have firewood when the tree died.
     
    * * * * *
     
    She came back just after dark. Pounding on the door. Chelsea barked at the first thud, and didn’t stop.
    Chase knew it was Sarah by her profile, which he could see through the broken blinds on the window next to it. He cracked the door open. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with fear.
    “They’re coming! I need your help.”
    “Who is—” Chase began as he opened the door wide, but then Chelsea shoved her way past him, growling and barking, racing off into the darkness of the front yard. Chase spotted movement among the trees, shadowy figures coming toward the house. There was a muzzle flash—but no sound of the shot—and Chase grabbed Sarah and pulled her to the ground as he heard Chelsea’s yelp of pain. Whoever had fired was using a suppressor, which meant they might have more of an idea what they were doing than the golfers earlier.
    “Stay down.” Chase pulled the MK23. He low-crawled forward, along the line of unkempt bushes adjacent to the walk, trying to get a visual on the intruders. Reaching the end of the bushes, he rolled right to the angled tree trunk, using it as cover. He heard something moving to his left front and he aimed, finger resting lightly on the trigger, the only safety a true shooter used, as he’d been taught in the killing house at Fort Bragg.
    There was another muzzle flash directly ahead. Chase sensed the bullet flying by overhead, and heard the dull smack as it hit the house. He fired, four quick shots in the direction of the flash, the sharp crack of his pistol splitting the night’s quiet.
    There was a muffled curse, harsh whispers. Whatever was to Chase’s left front was coming closer, and he aimed that way, almost firing, then relaxing his finger when he realized it was Chelsea, dragging herself back. He felt a brief rush of relief that she was alive. He shifted back toward the front. He heard a car door open, and saw the interior lights of an SUV parked on the street, and a dark figure helping another one in.
    Chase got to one knee and steadied the pistol in a sure, two-handed grip. As he was about to fire, Chelsea was at his side, panting in pain. And someone was right behind him.
    He rolled, bringing the gun up, and once more relaxed his finger when he saw Sarah standing there.
    “Don’t sneak up—” Chase began, but Sarah knelt next to Chelsea and cradled her as she whimpered in pain. The SUV’s engine started and it raced away, peeling rubber.
    Chase slowly got to his feet, the adrenaline rush of the action still jazzing his nerves. Welcome to Spanish Wells , he thought.
    “Oh, my God,” Sarah said and Chase could see the blood covering her front.
    “You hit?” Chase asked.
    “No,” Sarah replied.
    Chase knelt next to Chelsea, and saw the blood bubbling out of her chest amidst the thick fur.
    “Damn it,” he cursed, bringing the gun up in the direction of the vehicle speeding away. He almost fired, but at the last second remembered all the homes lining the street, and what a ricochet round might do.
    Chase put a fresh, full magazine in the gun, and shoved the pistol back in the holster. He probed the wound with his fingers. The blood was frothy, meaning it was mixed with air. Sucking chest wound—the round had gone through one, if not both, lungs.
    Chase scooped up Chelsea in both arms. “Open the door,” he ordered as he carried her into the house. He laid her down next to the footlocker and threw open the lid. He pulled out his combat vest, and ripped open one of the pockets containing a HALO chest seal. He slapped it on the wound, then took out a packet of QuickClot Combat Gauze. He tore it open and pressed that over the chest seal, maintaining the pressure with one hand as he checked for an exit wound with the other.
    None that he could find, but he couldn’t be certain.
    Then