At first, Zack wasn’t sure what was happening. He was all caught up in Whitney’s steamy kiss, and the next thing they were on the ground as gun shots popped all around them. The shots were coming from the thicket of trees not far from them, which meant, they’d better go the other way.

He cussed, grabbed her hand and crouched as he led her toward the stable. His heart slammed against his ribs. Had the senator’s hitman found them? Or was this the act of some drunken deer hunters? The first one was easier to believe.

Another shot zoomed by them, flipping a lock of Whitney’s hair. A sob escaped her throat. Cursing again, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer as they ran toward the stable.

When they reached the wall of the structure, Whitney withdrew her cell phone with a shaky hand. Seeing her face so white made him sick to his stomach.

“Are you hit?” she asked him.

“No. Are you?”

“I don’t think so. Nothing hurts.”

She pushed a few numbers and held the phone up to her ear. “Joe! Someone is shooting at us.” She paused. “We’re on the north side of the barn.” Another short pause. “Thanks.” She clicked off her phone and pushed it back into her pocket.

Zack took her back in his arms and they huddled together, crouched between two bushes. Of course, he knew the bushes wouldn’t protect them. Not from a trained sniper.

Suddenly, a thought popped in his head. If the shooter was hired by Senator Sterling, he would have been dead by now. Even though the bullets came close, neither of them had been hit. So was this a hired hitman at all? Perhaps his guess of the drunken deer hunter was correct, after all.

The shooter seemed to have stopped, but Zack still held her trembling body against him as he lightly stroked her hair.

“Zack?” she whispered in a tight voice.

He looked down at her. “What?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you. That won’t ever happen again. I’ll make sure my gun—”

“Shh...” He placed his finger to her lips. “It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you.”

“But I’m an FBI—”

“Not right now, you’re not. You’re a victim, just like me.”

Tears clung to her eyelashes. “I don’t want to be a victim. Not any longer.”

He sat taller as her words sank in. “You’re right. I don’t want to be a victim any longer, either. From now on, let’s do the exact opposite.”

A small smile tugged on one side of her adorable mouth. “How do you suggest we do that?”

“I don’t know, but when I figure it out, then we’ll start.”

She laughed fully now and leaned against him. “Right now my brain isn’t working, but I did take some psychology classes in college. I’ll dig through the cobwebs of my mind and remember what I’d learned.”

He kissed her forehead. “You’re so funny, Whitney.” His knuckles under her chin raised her face to look at him. “But we’ll do it together. All right?”

She nodded. “Yes. Together.”

He caressed her chin, wondering if he should kiss her now. But yet, they still might be in danger. Kissing her would be distracting, and until the gunman was caught, both he and Whitney needed a clear head.

From the distance, Zack heard their names being called. It was Joe. Relief filled Zack and he grasped Whitney’s hand and they stood. Cautiously, they stepped out of their hiding spot.

When Joe came into view, Whitney broke away from Zack and ran to the older man. The two hugged, but worry was etched on Joe’s face. Zack stepped closer, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment.

Three other men stood behind Joe. Zack recalled being introduced to them yesterday. The tall thin man with receding hairline was Luke. The middle-aged man with a protruding gut was Billy. And the youngest out of the three who looked to be in his mid-twenties, was Wallace. Joe had nicknamed the guy Wall. Each man held a rifle and scoped out the yard.

“Did you see anyone?” Whitney asked Joe as she stepped away.

“No, honey. We saw some duck hunters way out toward Casco Bay, but they wouldn’t shoot inland.”

“What about deer hunters?” Zack asked, folding his arms across his chest. He wasn’t convinced that they were out of danger, yet.

“There shouldn’t be any.” Joe removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Hunting season doesn’t start until the end of October. Besides, we never get hunters on this property.”

Zack met Whitney’s panicked gaze. His gut churned. If only he knew how to stop feeling like the victim. Would it be wise to become the hunter instead of the hunted? The problem with that analogy was that he wouldn’t know where to start looking for the hitman.

He scratched his whiskery chin that was filling quite nicely into a beard. Now the question was, had the hitman been following them all this time? If not, how would he know to come to Greenston, Maine?

“Why don’t you two go in the house?” Joe motioned his head toward Whitney. “The boys and I will continue to look around the property.”

“Good idea.” Zack took Whitney’s hand, pulling her close.

“Just stay away from windows.” Joe nodded.

Keeping Whitney close, Zack rushed them inside the house. Once the door was closed, she released a ragged sigh and looked into his eyes.

“Oh, Zack. I’m such a failure as an FBI agent.”

“No, you’re not.”

Her eyes grew misty. “But I’ve never been so afraid before in my life.” She chuckled sadly and shook her head. “I’ve been in situations with my unit where people are shooting at us, and yet I wasn’t afraid.”

“You had your gun and a bullet-proof-vest, too.”

“Yes, I was protected.”

“That’s why you’re scared now.” He caressed her cheek. “Did you bring a vest with you?”

“Yes.”

“Then go upstairs and put it on, and get your gun.”

“It’s not just that.” She covered his hand that was still on her cheek. “I’m worried about you. I care about you, Zack. It’s not just me I’m afraid for, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you, and that Senator Sterling will win.”

His heart melted. He loved staring into her amazing eyes. They looked more brown than green right now. “Then we’ll try harder to stay alert at all times, because I don’t want him to win, either.”

He turned her toward the stairs and lightly patted her butt. “Now go get your gun and vest and meet me down in the kitchen. I’m hungry.”

She smiled at him from over her shoulder before hurrying up the stairs.

After she was out of his sight, he moved to the window and stood against the wall, peering out into the yard. From this view, he couldn’t see Joe and the other two men, but Zack scoped out the area, keeping a close eye on the thicket of trees.

His gut told him it wasn’t the hitman, only because Zack would have been dead by now. So if it wasn’t the senator’s paid assassin, who was the one pulling the trigger over and over again? It would have been different if it was just one shot, but there were several, and they were going in one direction.

Whoever did this had planned it. But was the shooter just trying to frighten them or give them some kind of warning? And why?

As he moved toward the dining room, he pulled out his phone and decided to check the tabloids. Had his current location been leaked to the press?

He sat on one of the high-backed wooden chairs at the rectangular table, making sure to keep away from a window. He scrolled through social media, but couldn’t find anything. He even searched the internet for his name, but the only recent article was the one in the magazine that had reported him missing.

A thought suddenly struck him, making his mind race in a different direction. What if he faked his own death, at least until the senator’s trial started? That might be a way to watch everyone and see who was trying to kill him. Or, if the shooter knew he was dead, then they’d give up and leave Whitney alone.

Patiently, he waited for Whitney to join him. As the minutes ticked by and she hadn’t come down, he became anxious. He paced the floor in the dining room, glancing up constantly toward the stairs. All she had to do was grab her gun and her vest, and yet it had been twenty minutes already. It was too quiet in the house, and that worried him, too.

He couldn’t be patient any longer, and he rushed up the stairs, heading right for her room. Many scenarios clogged his mind, and they were all about her being hurt – or killed.

When he stopped in front of her room, his panicked heartbeat made it hard for him to breathe normally. Pressing his ear against the door, he listened closely for any signs of disturbance from within. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Usually, he’d knock and wait to be invited inside a girl’s bedroom, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Not today.

He grasped the doorknob, and just as he pushed the door open, Whitney was right there, looking as if she was getting ready to exit. She sucked in a quick breath and placed her hand on her chest.

Relief swept through him, knowing that she was all right, but... As their gazes locked on each other, she pulled back her shoulders and lifted her chin, stubbornly. He ran his gaze over her from the top of her ponytailed hair, down over her make-up free face, and down along the unflattering clothes she’d worn when they first met.

Inwardly, he groaned. The plain FBI agent had replaced his sexy girlfriend. He wasn’t sure he liked this.