A sob tried to crawl up her throat, but she swallowed it. She didn’t like Casper, but he didn’t deserve to be shot in the back.
Instead of running toward the front of the house, she ran around it as quietly as possible, toward the back, near whereJace’s old bedroom was. The shooter might expect her to run to the front, and then she’d be open to a bullet.
As she neared the back, her run slowed to a fast walk, and she used each tree as a shield, sneaking from one to another. She couldn’t hear the footsteps behind her anymore. Was that good or bad? Had the woman changed direction?
When she was opposite the window, her hands suddenly felt clammy and her throat tight. To get to the house, she had to leave the protection of the trees.
Three breaths, each one long and drawn out, steadying her…reminding her that she was strong and she could do this. She’d climbed through his window a hundred times before, never making a noise. She could do it again.
One final breath, and she crept forward, keeping low as she crossed the backyard. When she reached the window, she nudged it open, a relieved cry almost slipping from her throat when it moved.
Still broken…thank God.
She pushed it the rest of the way, cringing as a small creaking noise sounded. Quickly, she scrambled through and slid down the wall, finally sucking in a lungful of air.
She wasn’t safe yet, but if the woman hadn’t seen her access the house, then she’d surely assume Elle was still outside. And that was Elle’s advantage.
Remaining on the floor, Elle crawled across the room and out into the hall.
Phone or weapon. She needed one of them. Jace didn’t have a landline, but he might have an emergency burner. And he’d definitely have a gun hidden somewhere. In his bedroom?
It took her longer than it should have to make it to his room, and her heart pounded the entire time. Dammit, the windows were huge in here.
Staying low, she crawled across the room to his bedside table. She opened the first drawer and rummaged around. Nothing. She checked the second drawer, which was filled with books and notepads, then the third, which had some odds and ends.
No gun. No knife or phone. Nothing.
Shit.
She opened the drawers again, this time feeling carefully to see if anything was strapped to the underside. When she didn’t find anything there either, she checked under the bed.
Every second felt like ten and made her chest grow tighter. Was it possible he didn’t have a weapon in here?
No. He had to. He was too safety conscious.
Think, Elle.If anyone knew him well enough to find it, it was her.
She crept into the walk-in closet and searched every shelf. She looked behind clothes and shoes. After a few minutes, her skin started to feel clammy. She grabbed a stool and looked on the top shelf. She was pushing blankets aside when she saw it. A box. No, not a box. A safe.
It was here. She didn’t know that for sure, but she felt it. It had to be.
But the safe was locked with a code.
Crap.
She tried Jace’s birthday first, but it didn’t work. His mother or father’s birthday? She closed her eyes, trying to remember the dates. When she did, she quickly typed them in. But neither worked. She tried a few more combinations before an idea came to her.
She typed in the six digits of her own birthday—the safe popped open.
And inside, there was a handgun.
She’d just wrapped her fingers around the grip of the weapon when glass shattered in another room. Her gaze shot toward thedoor and she bit back a gasp. Quickly, she climbed down and hid behind the door of the closet.
She stood and waited, gun raised, ready to shoot.
Jace pressedhis foot to the floor of the car. He was driving more than twice the speed limit, and it still didn’t feel fast enough. He needed to get to Elle. He’d tried her phone half a dozen more times, and she hadn’t answered a single call.
Something was wrong.
