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The room was growing light now, the sky glowing with the pink pearl of approaching sunrise. He sat up in the bed and looked down at her, her body damp and glowing like the sky. Perhaps this last time had been a mistake, because he hadn’t taken his usual precautions, but he couldn’t regret it. He couldn’t have tolerated any separation of their bodies.
Rachel lay exhausted on the pillows, watching him with her heart in her eyes. Her body still throbbed from his lovemaking, and her pulse was only gradually slowing. “You may never come back,” she whispered. “But I’ll wait here for you, anyway.”
Only the slight jerking of a muscle beside his mouth revealed his reaction. He shook his head. “No, don’t waste your life. Find someone else, get married and have a houseful of kids.”
Somehow she managed a smile. “Don’t be a fool,” she told him with aching tenderness. “As if there could be anyone else after you.”
THEY WERE READY to leave, and Rachel was so stiff inside that she thought she would shatter if anyone touched her. She knew there would be no goodbye kisses, no final words to burn into her memory. He would simply leave, and it would be finished. He wasn’t even taking the pistol with him, which would give him an excuse to contact her again to return it. The pistol was registered to her; he didn’t want anything that could be traced back to her in case things didn’t go as planned.
Sullivan had hidden his rental car somewhere down the road; Jane was going to drive them to it, then return to their farm. Rachel would be left alone in a house that echoed with emptiness, and she was already trying to think of ways to fill the time. She would work in the garden, mow the lawn, wash the car, maybe even go swimming. Later she would go out to eat, see a movie, anything to postpone coming back. Perhaps by then she would be so tired she would be able to sleep, though she didn’t hold out much hope for that. Still, she’d get by, because she had no choice.
“I’ll let you know,” Jane whispered, hugging Rachel.
Rachel’s eyes burned. “Thank you.”
Grant opened the door and walked out onto the porch, which brought Joe to his feet, and snarls filled the air. Calmly Grant surveyed the dog. “Well, hell,” he said mildly.
Jane snorted. “Are you afraid of that dog? He’s as sweet as can be.”
Kell followed them onto the porch. “Joe, sit,” he commanded.
There was the peculiar, high-pitched CRACK! of a rifle being fired and the wood exploded on the post not two inches from Kell’s head. Kell turned and dove for the open door just as Rachel leaped for him, and he knocked her sprawling. Almost simultaneously Grant literally threw Jane through the door as another shot exploded, then he covered her with his body.
“Are you all right?” Kell asked through clenched teeth, anxiously looking Rachel over even as he lashed out with one foot and kicked the door shut.
She’d banged her head on the floor, but it wasn’t anything serious. Her face white, she clutched at him. “Yes, I’m f-f-fine,” she stammered.
He rolled to his feet, crouching to stay below the windows. “You and Jane lie down in the hall,” he ordered tersely, getting the pistol from the bedroom where he’d left it.
Grant had helped Jane to a sitting position, brushing her hair out of her face and giving her a swift kiss before he pushed her toward Rachel. “Go on, move,” he snapped, drawing his own pistol from his belt.
There was another shot, and the window closest to Grant shattered, raining shards of glass all over him. He cursed luridly.
Rachel stared at them, trying to gather her thoughts. They were armed only with pistols, while whoever was shooting at them had a rifle, stacking the deck against Kell and Grant. A rifle had the advantage of accuracy over a greater distance, allowing their assailant to shoot from outside the range of the pistols. Her .22 rifle didn’t have much power, but it di
d have a greater range and accuracy than the pistols, and she crawled into the bedroom to get it, as well as what ammunition she had. Thank God Kell had told her to buy those shells!
“Here,” she said, crawling back into the living room and sliding the rifle toward Kell. He glanced around, his fist closing over the weapon. Grant was moving through the house, checking to make certain no one was coming up on them from behind.
“Thanks,” Kell said briefly. “Get back in the hall, honey.”
Jane was crouched there, staring at her husband with an odd fury in her chocolate eyes. “They shot at you,” she growled.
“Yep,” he confirmed.
She was fuming like a volcano about to blow, mutter- ing to herself as she dragged the nylon overnighter she’d brought to her, unzipping it and throwing clothing and makeup to one side. “I’m not putting up with this,” she said furiously. “Damn it, they shot at him!” She produced a pistol and shoved it into Rachel’s hand, then dug back into the bag. She dragged a small case out of it, about the size of a violin case, and threw it at Grant. “Here! I don’t know how to put the thing together!”
He opened the case and glared at Jane even as he began snapping the rifle together with swift, practiced movements. “Where the hell did you get this?”
“Never mind!” she barked, tossing a clip of ammunition to him. He fielded it one-handed and snapped it into place.
Kell glanced over his shoulder. “Got any C-4 or grenades in there?”
“No,” Jane said regretfully. “I didn’t have time to get everything I wanted.”
Rachel crawled to the side window, cautiously lifting her head to peek out. Kell swore. “Get down,” he snapped. “Stay out of this. Get back in the hall, where it’s safer.”
She was pale, but calm. “There are only two of you, and four sides to the house. You need us.”
