Free Breath of Malice by Karen Fenech

more than two bedrooms, and both on one floor. No upper story. No basement.
    As they walked across the front lawn, Sam went still, then said quietly, “No dog.”
    Their intel had told them as much, but it was possible the situation had changed. Paige nodded. Her hand was on her shoulder harness, and she removed her weapon.
    Sam spoke into his mic. “Confirm your position.”
    “We’re in place,” Mike said.
    Sam took out his gun and went to the front door. Paige took one side. Harry took the other. With a slow nod to Paige and Harry, Sam kicked in the door.
    “Federal agents!” Sam shouted as he charged into the house.
    A commotion came from the kitchen. There were two men inside. One, a heavyset guy who looked to Paige to be in his late twenties, grabbed a sack of white powder off a long wooden table and ran toward a back room.
    Sam grabbed the guy by the collar, then slammed him against a wall hard enough that the impact knocked a clock to the floor. The guy crumpled to the worn, scuffed tile, unconscious.
    The second man, in a designer suit and wearing a fortune in gold and diamonds, drew a gun from his suit pocket. Paige recognized Alessandro.
    “Drop it,” Harry shouted, “or I’ll drop you!”
    The man dropped his weapon and lowered himself to his belly. Paige slid his gun toward her with one foot, then trained her gun on Alessandro and the man with him, covering Sam and Harry. Sam checked the heavy guy for weapons and, finding none, cuffed him to the fridge. Harry placed his knee on Alessandro’s spine and jerked his arms behind his back.
    Sam gave Alessandro a hard look. “How many others are in the house?”
    Alessandro, whose cheek was pressed into the floor, spat in Sam’s direction, but missed his mark. Harry mashed the man’s face in his own spittle, then patted him down. Harry removed another gun, pocketed it, then secured Alessandro to the oven.
    Resuming their original formation, with Sam in the lead, they cleared the living and dining rooms, one bathroom, and two bedrooms. Each of the rooms was filthy and smelled like roadkill.
    They discovered a length of rope dangling from the ceiling that lowered the stairs to the attic. There was no way for them to know if someone was up there aiming a gun, ready to blow the head off of whoever went up first.
    Sam lowered the stairs, which hit the floor with a thud. He was going to be the one to go into the attic. Paige’s breathing picked up, and her grip on her gun grew slick with perspiration.
    Sam held a flashlight in one hand, his gun braced above it in the other hand, and mounted the steps. Paige held her breath, but Sam led with his gun hand, keeping his head low. He went still for a few precious seconds, then raised his head above the floor and looked into the attic.
    “Clear.” As he descended the steps, he spoke into his shoulder mic. “Anyone leave here?”
    Mike’s voice came back. “Negative.”
    Harry unlocked the back door, and Mike, Riley, and Dom entered the house. While Mike called for a team to process the scene, Sam went to the table in the kitchen where mounds of white powder stood ready for packaging. The guy Sam had slammed face first into the wall was coming around, mumbling and groaning.
    Alessandro’s gaze locked on Sam. “You feds are stupid if you think this is over.”
    Sam’s gaze since they’d set foot inside the house had been impenetrable. He’d shown nothing of what he’d been thinking or feeling. Now he bared his teeth. His eyes went ice-cold. “It’s over for you.”
    Considering the amount of product visible and not counting what may have been stored elsewhere in the house, awaiting pick up or distribution, Paige knew these two weren’t going to see the light of day from anywhere but a prison yard for a very long time.
    Of course, that’s what she’d thought would happen to Thames. A chill went through her. She drew a deep breath and brought herself back from that dark place.
    By the time she followed