by Dale Mayer
She reached out for the shampoo and started to work on her hair. Super thick and wavy, she washed the auburn locks then conditioned them before grabbing up the soap and starting on her body.
When she was done, she stepped out of the tiled room wrapped in a towel. The bathroom was steamy. She turned on the fan as she dried off. She finished up with her absolutions for the night, grabbed up her robe and put it on. In the bedroom, she pulled back the bedding and turned to face the dresser, needing her pajamas.
And froze.
A man stood in front of her dresser, gun in hand, casually pointed at her. A man she didn’t recognize. Then again he looked like dozens of men around. Dark hair, tanned skin.
She shook her head even as her heart pounded and recently dried skin turned clammy. “What do you want?” she asked in low tones.
He never said a word. He nudged the gun toward the bed. As if she knew what that meant. In her heart she was afraid she did. That she was in a robe and standing beside a bed didn’t help much.
Swallowing hard, her mind racing for options, she stared at him in shock. His outfit. A typical mechanic’s overalls she’d see anywhere around the hangars and many other places for that matter.
“Move.”
Move where? She stared at him belligerently, only now realizing her clothes were lying on the floor and he was actually motioning to that pile beside the bed. He wanted her to get dressed. Which meant he planned to take her somewhere.
Shit. Of course it could be worse. He could want her to lie down.
She bent and lifted the pile to place on the bed and quickly dressed, using the robe as a shield as long as possible.
She deliberately didn’t look at him as she dressed, but she was keenly aware of his every movement. Her martial arts skills were top notch, her down and dirty street fighting skills less so, but neither were a match to a bullet. Particularly not for the police issue stock the man was holding.
Where the hell did he get that piece? She gave herself a mental slap. It didn’t matter where it came from. One could get anything one wanted if the money was there. Sad but true.
Her bedroom window was open. She frowned as she did up the zipper on her jeans. She wasn’t very high off the ground, but she was on the second floor. Could she dive through, hit the ground and then run? Would she be able to get away from the gunman? Chances were good she’d take a bullet, still the gunshots would wake up the neighbors.
“Hurry,” he said in a normal tone but with an accent.
She nodded quickly, not wanting to be dragged out only half dressed, but her mind had locked on to the word neighbor.
Evan was only a hand’s throw away.
How could she let him know she was in trouble? She peered at the gunman behind her, and he glared at her. Of course. She grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it over her head then taking one arm out of the robe at a time, she managed to get it on. She had a pair of sandals beside the window where she’d kicked them off the other day. She bent, slipped them on and latched up the buckle around the heel. They weren’t the best option, but they were better than being barefoot.
As soon as she had the second sandal on, she glanced at the gunman. He was waiting patiently for her. He must be taking her somewhere she needed to be dressed normally.
Too bad for him, she wasn’t in a mood to socialize.
And she threw herself out the window.
*
Evan sat at his computer, sorting through the news hype to see what was really going on in the world. He was tempted to go for a run. He was irritated and keyed up – but why?
There was damn little he could do about the shit going on right now. He wasn’t going to be called on duty unless he was needed. The entire base was full of capable men and women and most had no clue what was going on right now. All they had was supposition and a tilted handle, like he’d said to Megan, the security team were on it. Nothing that would justify a lockdown and search. And yet the security level had been upped and there was an edginess to the air as if something else was going on that no one quite understood. But the waters deep down were shifting.
He got up and paced his living room. Maybe he should go for that run. Drain off some of this energy. Or hit the gym? He checked the time. It was only nine-thirty. Still hours to go before it closed down. An hour’s workout would take care of this. He grabbed his gym bag and put on his running shoes.
As he opened his front door, keys and bag in hand, he paused.
What had he just heard?
It came again.
Panting. Racing footsteps. A hard bang.
He dropped his bag and raced outside. He couldn’t see anyone.
Checking out the rest of the yard, he headed into the backyard. Nothing.
“Hello?” he said in a low voice.
“Evan?”
“Megan,” he raced toward her. She was at the back fence in the garden huddled behind the huge flowering bush. He took a look around, but the night was dark and silent. Maybe too silent.
“What’s the matter?” He crouched at her side. “What happened?”
She was gasping for breath. “A gunman in my bedroom. I jumped out the window.”
“Jesus, are you okay?”
“I think so. Careful,” she said grabbing for him as he started to rise. “He’s likely still out there.”
“Have you seen him since you ran?”
“No,” she whispered. “I haven’t. But then I was more concerned with getting the hell out of there than anything.”
“Good. That’s the priority. Now the bastard will be hunted down.”
He helped her to her feet, both of them staying below the six foot fence line… “Can you walk?”
“Well, I ran, does that count?” She gave him a big cheeky grin, but he could see the effort it took.
“Come on inside.”
She went to take a step but winced, her small cry loud in the silence. He didn’t give her a chance to explain, he scooped her up and raced inside. He had calls to make. And a manhunt to set up.
Inside he sat her down on the couch, sent out an alert to the men he could count on to have his back, and now by extension, Megan’s back. Then he turned his attention to her foot.
“It’s minor,” she said, brushing his hands away. “My parkour, or street jumping skills are less than stellar.”
He sat back on his heels and studied her face.
She gave him a lopsided smile. “My bedroom – it’s on the second floor.”
A shadow crossed his features but he nodded in understanding. “You didn’t damage anything major, so that’s good.”
He quickly unbuckled the sandal on her right foot and lifted the ankle, his fingers gently probing. She winced once.
“Nothing broken from the look of it.”
“Told ya so,” she said in a mocking voice.
“Any other damage?” he asked as he stood up and looked down at her. In the distance he heard running footsteps and the sound of a vehicle. That was Swede’s truck turning the corner.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He grinned. “The troops are here.”
“Troops?”
The front door burst open and footsteps raced in. Shadow and Hawk were neck in neck for first place. Cooper and Swede came in next. He held up a hand as he rattled off her address.
“Gunman in her bedroom,” Evan said tersely. “She jumped out the second story window and came here.” He pointed through the back window to her place. “Less than ten minutes.”
“Still too long,” Hawk said racing silently out the backyard and flying over the fence.
“Mason and Dane are heading straight to her place,” Evan called out.
The house emptied as the men scattered. They knew what to do and would do it with an efficiency that would surprise anyone else.
Evan turned to see Markus striding in the front door. He grinned. “You’re late.”
Markus snorted. “As if.”
; Evan filled him in as Markus gave Megan a long look. “Why you?” he asked carefully.
Her gaze went to Evan.
Evan told him about what they’d seen on the video, and Megan’s suspicion of the young workmen. He already knew about the trackers on the injured men.
“And what did he look like?” Markus turned that fierce frown onto Megan. “What kind of weapon?”
She told him what she could but it wasn’t much. “I had my back to him most of the time while I was trying to get dressed and figure a way out.”
“And the way out she chose was to dive out of the second story window and test her wings,” Evan said on a dry note.
“It worked though, didn’t it?” She glared at him. “I couldn’t figure out what else to do that wouldn’t get me a bullet in my back.” She shifted restlessly. “Honestly, I figured I’d get hit no matter what I did.”
Markus snorted as he walked around behind her. “You did. You just don’t know it yet.”
She twisted to look at him and gasped in pain.
Evan raced to her side. “You were shot?”
“No, no way I was.” She shook her head quickly. “I’d have known.”
“No, often we don’t know until after the panic dies down,” Markus said. “You’re still moving so chances are it’s a flesh wound or if you’re lucky it’s just a graze, but you’re bleeding all over the couch.”
Chapter 10
She bolted to her feet. “Oh my God. I’m sorry,” she cried. Then wavered in place as the pain hit.
Evan was already behind her, holding her in place, while Markus lifted her shirt. She shuddered as the dull throb turned into a sharp excruciating awareness. “Damn it. How bad?”
“Not bad. It skirted your ribs and slashed skin and the muscle, but it could be so much worse.” Her shirt was gently lowered. “Interesting spot.”
She turned to face him. “Maybe not, I grabbed the sill and jumped to the side, landed and rolled then kept on going. I remember the landing and thinking I’d wrenched something, but I wasn’t exactly going to slow down and check it out.”
“It does need stitches.”
“No, I’m sure it will be fine.” She stepped away from the men. The last thing she wanted was for them to know she hated needles. In fact, she’d been known to faint – as in pass out cold at the sight of them. So not good for her reputation.
But from the grins on their faces they already knew or guessed.
Her smile fell away and she glared at them. “No stitches.”
“Not an option,” Markus said gently. “Either Evan is taking you or I am. Or you can have an ambulance with sirens in front of the whole world if that makes you feel any better.”
Her glare deepened.
“This way you can stop in and see the guys,” Evan said. Markus glanced over at him. “We took pizza and Greek to Ice and the others standing guard,” Evan explained.
“Guess you’re Megan’s bodyguard now.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she snapped, her temper flaring. Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was the reference to being incapable of looking after herself or maybe it was knowing she was going to lose the upcoming battle and have to deal with a needle, but it sent her mood into the pits.
“Right.”
Evan walked into the hallway and grabbed his keys where he’d dropped them beside his gym bag. “Let’s go. With me or Markus – or if necessary with both of us.”
She snorted and walked out the front door. Her head high, she turned to say something then thought better of it.
And missed getting shot a second time as the bullet spit into the doorframe beside her.
She was dragged back inside and the door slammed shut. She turned to see Markus on the run out the backdoor and around. He was going after the shooter. Evan was on his phone.
How had the shooter known she’d be here? Had he watched? It wasn’t like she’d gone far. Or was Evan the target?
She stared at the ceiling, realizing she was still in the same place Evan had dragged her to. She was sitting in the hallway behind the front door. The bullet hadn’t penetrated the door, thank God, so she could stay here for the moment.
And that’s when she realized Evan had a gun in his hand as he finished sending out the alarm.
Did Markus have a weapon? Or was he such a badass he’d take down the shooter with his bare hands?
She almost laughed, positive she’d heard similar feats accredited to various SEALs in history. They had a reputation to uphold after all. She shifted until she was leaning against the door. And caught sight of the couch ahead of her. There was blood on the back and the side. So she’d likely left a bright red blood trail for the shooters to follow, too. Goddamn it.
How had she not known she’d been shot? What could she have done differently? Nothing. She hadn’t even known until she’d been told.
And by then it was too late, the trail had already been laid.
But a half dozen men were out looking for the gunman. What were the chances one of Evan’s unit had been shot already – they’d damn near walked into a trap.
“Have your men reported in, are they safe?” she asked when he glanced over at her.
“Haven’t heard from them all. They’ll check in with Mason. I’ve warned them.”
He put his phone away and crouched in front to her.
“He’s missed getting me twice,” she whispered, giving him a gentle smile. “What’s the chance he’s determined to try a third time?”
He stood up and peered around the glass panel in the door. “Let’s get you to the living room.”
He helped her to her feet and led her to the larger room with the bloody couch. “We’ll get him. The base will be on lockdown until we do.”
She stood in the center of the big room hating the vulnerable feeling of being exposed. “It’s all glass. I’d feel better in the bathroom,” she admitted. “At least we can’t be seen there.”
“Go around the corner to the dining room,” he motioned with his hand, “You can sit there without being seen, and you’ll still have a decent view.”
She nodded and followed his instructions. Of course he’d have known that about his floor plan already. Probably one of the first things he’d done after moving in.
Her house was so damn small she could likely be seen from every location with the exception of the bathroom – making it the safest in the house – unless she got pinned in there in which case she was a goner.
Pulling out the chair, she sat down stiffly and shifted so she could see the empty backyard. The second story window on the house kitty-corner to Evan’s was visible – and open. She gasped and immediately shifted further back. Yet for all she knew the owners just wanted fresh air. It was evening after a hot day. She’d be doing the same right about now if she was home. When no shots fired, she relaxed slightly.
“Now what?” she asked Evan as he joined her.
“For the moment we sit tight in the dark.”
“I hadn’t even noticed you’d turned off all the lights.” She ran her fingers over her face. “Not the end to the night I was looking for.”
“As soon as it’s clear we’ll take you to the hospital to get stitches then stash you somewhere safe until this is over.”
“I thought I was safe at home and never expected them to find me here. I’m sorry about that,” she said in low tones. “I wouldn’t have led them here if I’d known.”
“Don’t piss me off,” Evan snapped. “Unless you’re a part of whatever they are up to, then you are as much of a victim as anyone.”
“Not real fond of that term.”
He grinned and his teeth flashed in the half-light. “None of us are.”
She lowered her head to rest on her arms on the table.
He patted her back. “Sleep.”
“Not likely.” But her voice was drowsy. “Maybe I’ll rest for a few minutes.”
It didn’t make any sense that she’d be tired – she hadn’t d
one anything. And as long as she ignored the pain in her side, she didn’t feel too bad. But damn it was hard. As for her ankle…that pain refused to be silenced. She wanted to be tucked up in her own bed and sleeping now. This sense of violation – of not being safe in her personal space was new to her. It was one thing to have a dangerous job but another altogether when that danger came home – literally.
She slowly let the tension drift off her back. To not be alone right now was wonderful. To know it was someone who cared about her – and she didn’t quite get that but she’d take it right now – priceless.
*
As soon as her breathing leveled out, he got up from the dining room table and walked around to the other side of where she lay crumpled on the chair. There was fresh blood showing on the shirt, but there wasn’t a stream dripping to the floor. They needed to get her checked out, but it didn’t look like she’d done any more damage. Had the exhaustion something to do with her regular sleep pattern, or was it due to the stress and volatile situation? Of course shock and blood loss could account for it too.
He’d seen reactions from one extreme to the other. Whatever she needed to do for her body to reenergize worked for him. He checked his phone but there was nothing new. The police would be here soon, and they’d have to go through the process. He’d hoped to get her to the hospital first, but he didn’t dare leave the house right now. Not unless he was the intended target and not her?
Considering that, he frowned. He’d been on any number of missions and likely had garnered many enemies, but they wouldn’t be personal. No one knew who he was. The SEALs as a whole might be a target. The United States military machine as a larger target. But just himself – not likely.
Not unless someone had figured out who served on the individual SEAL teams and what missions they’d been part of. That wasn’t impossible to find out but not likely.
Except it also wasn’t likely that anyone could infiltrate the base and cause havoc as they were doing right now.
He turned the idea around and around then tossed it aside. No, Megan was likely the target. It had been her bedroom and the shooter had followed her to him. Except the shooters had used different guns. Unless he had a rifle over his shoulder and carried the handgun. Made sense. Or he had a partner. And that made even more sense.
