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Chapter Five
Holt heard the door slam a second before the sound of footsteps echoed around him. He focused, trying to pull the sounds apart. He had not one but two people out there with him in the dark. The only good news was that Lindsey was likely one of those people. He liked the odds of him against one attacker, but he hated the idea of her wandering into danger.
He ignored the sound of sneakers slipping against the wet grass and concentrated on what he could handle. Not her, but the man who had been lingering in the yard, hiding behind trees and leaning against the shed, while Holt watched him.
The guy had waited before moving in, but now he hid in that small building. The same one Lindsey said they used for storage. Holt would blow it up or drag him out. Whatever strategy would keep the guy from venturing near Lindsey worked for Holt.
But he had to move because even now she flew across the yard. She moved in a soundless blur. Once she got near him, whatever advantage he now held would be gone because she’d become his priority.
He signaled for her to stop but had no idea if she saw him. He didn’t wait.
Weapon up, he slunk around the outside of the building, crouching low and placing careful quiet footsteps. If the attacker shot through the wall, he should miss. Most people shot at standing height. Holt hovered well below that.
By the time he got to the door, Lindsey stood fewer than fifteen feet away. He motioned for her to stop, and this time her forward momentum slammed to a halt. She stood there, frozen.
He didn’t suffer from the same problem. He hit the watch alarm to bring Shane and Cam running. They’d come in stealth mode and assess the situation before doing anything that would derail the mission. They’d also make sure nothing happened to Lindsey if something did happen to him.
Then the silent countdown started. After one last glance at Lindsey to reassure himself she hadn’t moved, Holt took off. Rounded the corner and hit the doorway with his shoulder. A huge splintering crack ripped through the air around them. Wood shredded and what was left of the door bounced against the inside wall.
Holt caught the bounce with his hip and went in shouting. In two steps he bulldozed over the figure looming on the other side of the door. Momentum kept them moving. Holt didn’t stop until he had the man—and by the sheer size this was definitely a man—pinned against the riding lawn mower.
Holt had the guy’s back resting on the seat and his feet scraping against the ground as he tried to get his footing. But Holt didn’t give him the chance. He had wads of the guy’s shirt in his fists as he leaned in.
The guy’s fear hit Holt first. Panic and anger all wrapped up in one ball.
He flailed and called out, “Stop!”
The voice registered first. Holt recognized it as one of the attackers from last night. Holt could tie the guy back to the threats he’d overheard, then to the run on Lindsey’s house and now to her yard. The repeated shots took guts. It suggested a dangerous level of desperation.
“Grant?” Holt called up the name out of nowhere. Grant was the sidekick type. The guy who led with his fists because he lacked the intuition and skills to be at the top.
Lindsey’s foot hit the threshold. Then she rushed inside. “What’s going on?”
Time to play the role of disgruntled and concerned boyfriend. Holt didn’t have much experience with this, but he was just frustrated enough over Lindsey following him and walking straight into danger that he thought he could fake it. “Go inside.”
Grant tried to hold up one of his hands. “I can explain.”
Holt used his knee to pin one of Grant’s arms down. The steering wheel took care of the other. “Do it now.”
“I came looking for you.” The words rushed out of Grant as he stumbled to get them out.
“Why?” Holt angled his body so he stayed between Grant and Lindsey.
Grant might be shaking and stuttering now, but that all could be an act. The guy possessed one of those huge lurking frames, as if he could get into uniform and walk onto the front line of any professional football team and fit in. That didn’t mean he couldn’t fake it all.
“You’re supposed to be at the bunkhouse,” he said.
This was a new rule. Holt wondered who added it and why. “No one told me about any curfew.”
“There isn’t...” Grant exhaled as his head dropped back against the metal. “Can you let me up?”
“No.” That was just about the last thing Holt planned to do this evening.
Lindsey reached over, coming far too close, and snatched the gun out of the large pocket of Grant’s jacket. “I agree. You stay pinned down until you tell us why you’re hanging out on my property.”
