Chapter Thirty
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“Down!”
Before she could react, Tristan tackled her from behind.He flattened her on the edge of the grass, his big body on top of hers like a shield as more shots rang out.One cut through the hedge to their right, close enough to spray them with bits of boxwood.
Her gaze scanned the shadows ahead, searching for the shooter’s location.Rob?Had he done this?
Tristan’s weight lifted off her.He levered up and drew the weapon she hadn’t noticed him wearing earlier, crouching in front of her to return fire in the direction the shooting had come from.
The floodlights mounted on the wall above them came on.She glimpsed a figure darting from the bushes between her and her neighbor’s place near the end of the driveway.
Tristan fired two shots.The figure seemed to stumble slightly but kept going and was out of sight a second later.
“Jesus,” she whispered, beginning to shake as Tristan got up and started around the side of the house, weapon ready to fire.She followed, the heat of the flames forcing them both farther away from the side of the house.Lighting them up and giving away their every move.
When they reached the front yard, the suspect was long gone.But there was no doubt in her mind who it had been.And it made her sick to her soul that her old nightmare had come here to kill them both.
“Cassie?Are you all right?”
She darted a look over her shoulder to see Mrs.Bolivar peering at them from behind the cluster of azaleas marking the line between their properties, one bony hand clutching the lapels of her robe shut.Poor thing must be scared to death.
“Yes.”Glad to be alive and struggling to absorb everything, but otherwise all right.She scanned the yard and the street again, the rush of fear giving way to a deep, burning rage.
Rob, you cowardly motherfucker.She wanted to scream it into the night.To goad him into coming back to face her like a man.The thought of putting a round through him was terrifyingly satisfying.
“I’ve called 911,” Mrs.Bolivar said.“They’re sending a fire truck and the police.”
“Thank you.”She took her phone from her back pocket, confirmed that the operator was still there and summarized what had happened.“Suspect is likely Rob Quinn.Thirty-four years old, six-one, two-hundred-ten pounds.Short dark hair, brown eyes.He was wearing dark clothing and a balaclava.”Because he was a fucking coward and didn’t have the guts to face her.
“Come on, sweetheart.”She didn’t protest as Tristan drew her away from her burning house and toward the street, busy dialing someone on his own phone.Based on his side of the conversation, she guessed Ryder or Callum.
Standing on the sidewalk across the street, she helplessly watched her home burn, one hand resting at the base of her throat as she struggled not to cry.Not only had Rob just tried to kill them both, he was taking everything from her.
This beautiful house she’d fallen in love with, decorated and furnished exactly the way she wanted.Her private space.All her things, along with her last feelings of safety and remaining vestiges of peace.All disappearing before her eyes.
Tristan wrapped a protective arm around her and pulled her tight into his side as he spoke to someone else.“It’s bad,” he said to whoever it was.“Entire lower floor is engulfed.Yeah.Thanks.”He lowered the phone.“Gav and Decker are on their way, and I’ve alerted CPS.”
She nodded, unable to speak past the huge constriction filling her throat.Tears blurred her vision.I hate you, she told Rob silently.I will end you for this.
“Hey.”Tristan turned her into him, pressed her face to his chest and held her tight.His skin smelled like smoke.“We’re going to nail him, Cass.I swear to God we will.”
Her fingers gripped his back as she kept her face tucked into him and closed her eyes.She couldn’t bear to turn around and look at her house again.
