I drove around the block once, looking for anything out of the ordinary as I tried not to slow down or do anything else that would suggest my interest was on the Truesdale house and nothing else. I didn’t see anything that set off alarm bells, but I didn’t see anything that set my mind at ease, either.

I pulled to the curb two blocks from the Truesdale house. I took a gun from the glove box, checking the magazine before sliding it into the waistband of my jeans, wishing I’d thought to stop and get my holster. This looked like such a cowboy move in the movies, but it was just plain insanity. Every move, I was afraid it would slip down to where it didn’t belong, or be impossible to pull free when I needed it the most.

But sometimes convenience is convenience.

The gun was in my hands again when I reached the Truesdale house, slipping through an unlocked gate at the back of the yard and making my way through the shadows to the kitchen door. It was glass—a modern convenience to good guys and bad guys alike—allowing me to see what was on the other side before I took the risk of going in. The kitchen was dark, but there was a minimum of light coming from the living room. I could see the empty kitchen, the small dining area, and a hall that led to both the living room and another hall off to the right.

No sign of life.

The door was unlocked. Good for me. Not so good for Truesdale.

I slipped silently inside, my gun at my side, the safety switched off. I took several steps into the house, leaning against the wall to hide in the shadows while I listened to see if my entrance had been noticed. All remained quiet. I moved forward again, everything I’d been taught in the military suddenly front and center, reminding me how to remain safe in even the most dangerous situations.

I listened again before turning my attention to the narrow hall. I could see three doors, all of them closed. I weighed the options, aware that if there was someone lurking behind one of those doors, I could be making a mistake if I turned my back to search the living room first. But, again, if I searched the rooms first, whoever might be in the living room could hear and ambush me on my way out.

I decided to check out the living room first. There was light there. If Truesdale was here, that’s where he would be.

Maybe.

With a deep breath and the gun raised at my side, I took the few steps required to enter the living room. Truesdale was indeed there, sitting on the couch in front of the picture window that was darkened by the pulled curtains. There was a gun in his lap, his finger on the trigger, but the safety was clearly engaged. I could see the little white dot just above the grip. His hands were shaking, his eyes glued to the door like he was expecting it to burst open at any moment.

“Truesdale.”

He jumped, the gun instantly raised and pointed in my direction. I grabbed the barrel and twisted, yanking it out of his hand.

“You shouldn’t play with things you clearly don’t understand.”

I checked the magazine—fully loaded—and slipped it into the back of my waistband, once again lamenting my lack of forethought.

“Come with me.”

“Why should I do that?”

His voice was dull, his face just as dull now that he’d gotten over the surprise of my arrival. He was settled back on the couch, once again staring at the door.

“Your daughter’s worried about you.”

That didn’t seem to impress him. “She should have gone with her mother.”

“I don’t think she respects her mother all that much.”

Truesdale snorted, but had no other response.

“You need to come with me now, Truesdale.”

“What do you care? I bet you’d be thrilled to see the Guardians come in here and chop my damn head off!”

“I would, actually. You fucked up my family more than you can ever appreciate with what you did. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the one guy who could probably help us bring them down.”

Truesdale looked up. “You want me to give you information on members of my church?” He laughed. “I haven’t fallen that far, Forrester.”

“Your daughter thinks you have.”

“She made a deal with you?”

He seemed surprised. I couldn’t imagine why.

“She thinks they want to kill you.”

He snorted again. “The only person who wants to kill me is me. But that’s a fucking sin, so I can’t.”

“What a conundrum.” I grabbed his upper arm and yanked him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

Almost like my words were some sort of signal, the picture window burst under a barrage of bullets. Instinct dropped me to my knees and, because I still had a hold on his arm, Truesdale fell with me. Gunfire tore up the back wall and the couch as we lay there, plaster and drywall and fluff from the stuffing of the couch flying all around us. I jerked him closer beside me, guarding his body with my own more out of instinct than anything else. He was shaking, his hands over his head, but he lay right where I put him.

When the shooting stopped, they were going to come inside to make sure they’d gotten what they’d wanted. We had to be gone before then.

I rose to my hands and knees, trying to stay as low as possible, and began to move toward the kitchen. Truesdale didn’t immediately follow. I reached back and jerked him toward me, forcing him to move. Once he got on his knees, he moved quickly, reaching the kitchen a few seconds before me.

Protected by walls, I stood and pulled him after me, running through the back yard and into the alley, pausing breathlessly for a second to check for dangers. If they were in the front of the house, they might be back here, too. But the Guardians had proven before that their understanding of military maneuvers and battle strategy was lacking. This was not an exception to that rule.

We were able to get back to my car without much notice. People had stepped out of their houses and were stupidly watching the gunfire, perhaps thinking it was fireworks rather than lethal bullets. I could hear sirens in the distance, wondering if they’d actually get there in time to do anything useful.

I doubted it.

“I think you broke my arm.”

I glanced at Truesdale. He was cradling his right arm against his chest, his face pale with both dust from the drywall and fear. I reached over, searching him roughly in the darkness of the car, looking for any other injuries. There didn’t appear to be any.

“You’re not shot. I’d call that lucky.”

I threw the car into drive and navigated the small neighborhoods, taking a roundabout way back to Jack’s in case someone had figured out what I’d done and was following. But I never saw headlights behind us.

“You saved my life.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

I shot a hard look at him. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it to stop the Guardians.”

“Whatever your reasons, I’m in your debt.”

“Remember that when we ask you to help decipher those ledgers from your office drawers.”

He sucked in his breath, a slight groan slipping from his throat.

“Did anyone see you take those?”

“Why?”

Truesdale couldn’t answer because we’d pulled into Jack’s driveway, and Neri yanked open the car door, crying as she found her father alive and mostly intact. Jack was on my side of the car as I stepped out, concern on his face.

“We heard the sirens.”

I nodded. “They shot up the front of his house.”

“Then Neri was right. The Guardians wanted him dead before we got to him.”

I didn’t have to respond to that. We both knew the truth was evident, and I suspected it had everything to do with the ledgers Malaika had in her bag. Crispin came over and ushered everyone into the house, everyone suddenly aware of the dangers that lived in the darkness in this little city.

Malaika didn’t run into my arms when I turned the corner into the kitchen, but relief danced in her eyes as she looked me over, her eyes searching for an injury hidden under the dust and fluff stuck to my body and clothing.

“There’s a bathroom back there,” Ruth said, gesturing toward a long hallway that was not unlike the one in Truesdale’s house. “You’re welcome to it.”

“Thank you, Ruth.”

I kissed the top of her head, grateful to her for more than just a place to wash up. She smiled up at me, a smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes. There was conflict inside of her that was born the moment the Guardians came to town, and her only brother joined their ranks. It still lived there, had grown larger, since marrying the man who was leading a crusade against them while she still attended church services every Sunday, while she still led Bible classes and offered guidance to the youngest members of the church. It was a conflict that would continue until this war was over.

Just one more reason to make Truesdale talk.

I undressed and did the best I could to shake out my clothes over the small trashcan so as not to make a mess of Ruth’s pristine bathroom. The hot water fell over my skin with such force that it kneaded at the tension knots that had come to live in my shoulders and along the length of my back. I closed my eyes and sighed, giving in to this moment of pure, physical bliss.

But then it got better.

Malaika, stripped to nothing but what God had blessed her with, slipped past the curtain and moved up against me, her naked body warm and more comforting than a little water could ever be. She slid her hands up over my chest, her fingertips exploring the angles of my jaw.

“I thought you might need a little help getting cleaned up.”

“Did you? What would Ruth think?”

She tilted her head slightly. “She was the one who suggested it.”

I laughed, truly amused by the idea of perfect pious Ruth suggesting a woman engage in premarital sex. Things surely had changed since high school!

She moved closer, her lips brushing over my throat. Her hands slipped around my waist, a shiver rushing through her when I touched her hip to draw her even closer. A little gasp escaped her lips as I followed the curve of her ass and began to explore the depths of her perfect body.

“I was so scared,” she whispered near my ear. “I don’t like being scared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They took Truesdale to Tucson. They think his arm’s broken, and they didn’t think it was a good idea to have him treated here.”

“He mentioned that he thought it was. Must have fallen wrong when I pulled him down to the ground.”

“They really shoot up his house?”

“They really did.”

She shuddered. “You could have been killed.”

“Not me.” I lifted her chin, forced her to look up at me. “You forget you’re talking to a former Marine. I’m trained for these sorts of events.”

I ran my hand over the side of her face. She smiled, but it wasn’t a true smile. So, I kissed her and took it away.

I lifted her, and our bodies fit perfectly together, her hips opening up to mine. I pressed her against the cool side of the shower and held her there, our bodies moving together, her hands holding on to me like she was afraid there was a possibility I’d let her go. But there was no such possibility.

I wasn’t letting her go until she insisted on it.

I might not let her go then, either.

 

 

Ruth gave us the spare bedroom for the night. We lay tangled in each other’s limbs, Malaika’s head on my shoulder. I was awake for a long time, listening to the settling of the unfamiliar house, waiting for any sign that I’d screwed up and allowed the Guardians to follow us. I knew Crispin was still sitting in the living room, armed and prepared for anything that might happen. But I still felt uneasy, aware that the house contained two unarmed, untrained women, one of which was pregnant with the boss’s first child.

I couldn’t let them down.

But exhaustion finally settled in, and I drifted off to sleep, my dreams filled with tension, bullets flying and people I loved being ripped to pieces in front of me. I woke with a start just as the sun began to peek through the windows, untangling myself from Malaika’s still sleeping form as sweat poured from my pores.

I walked over to the windows and lifted the curtain, staring out into the quiet morning. The neighborhood was silent this Saturday morning, most of Jack’s neighbors still in bed, enjoying their day off. It was a perfect, suburban sight.

It made me nervous.

I jumped when my cell phone buzzed. I snatched it up before it could wake Malaika, the sight of my brother’s name on the screen this early on a Saturday morning filling my chest with cold fear.

“Quaid?”

“It’s Mom, Quentin. She’s in the hospital. She had a seizure during the night, and she still hasn’t woken up. The doctors, they say—”

“I’m on my way.”