The guards had been expecting to go up against unarmed opponents and they were unprepared when return fire came at them. Several of them went down in that first volley. Seeing the team leader and others in the front ranks go down, the rest of the guards began to panic. They were hemmed in on both sides by the towering shelves and now they were taking fire from the front of the warehouse. With nothing to use for cover, the guards dropped into low crouches and returned fire as they tried to shuffle backward.
At the rear of the group a few of the guards broke and ran toward the back of the building. The first of the men sprinting away from the firefight had just reached the end of the aisle when the bark of a shotgun erupted. The guard who had been leading the retreat was blown backward from the force of the blast. The shot had been aimed high, above the protective vest, and the guard’s face disintegrated. The body flew across the aisle, smashed into the shelf, and flopped to the floor.
As the other guards who had been running toward the back of the building skidded to a stop, a figure stepped into view. Backlit by the flames from the burning crate she appeared as little more than a silhouette, but her outline and rigid bearing made Ramona immediately recognizable to her men. She stopped, ejected the spent cartridge from her weapon with a quick motion of the slide, and aimed at the face of the nearest man. A stray bullet ricocheted from the shelf beside her but Ramona didn’t even flinch.
“Cowards will be shot,” she said, her tone uncompromising.
The guard facing her glanced nervously over his shoulder then back at her.
“But ma’am—”
Ramona lowered the shotgun and fired, hitting the man squarely in the groin. The guard folded in half as he was driven backward by the force of the blast, winding up next to the crumpled body of the first man she had shot.
“You obviously have no need for those,” she said. Before she could finish ratcheting her slide again, the remaining guards turned and fled back into the fray.