Still holding her laptop, Lauren crossed to the shadowy kitchen. Dim lights gleamed on stainless steel. Beside the back door, a panel glowed.Beep beep beep.
She sucked in her breath.The security system.
Her heart hammered. She should have called Jane. She should have... Should she just leave? Or was there some way to turn it off? She hurried closer to take a look. Text blinked on the tiny screen.ARMED.ARMED.ARMED.Like a missile or something.
Oh, crap. She stared helplessly at the keypad.
The kitchen exploded with sirens.
She gasped and flung her hands over her ears. Her laptop cracked against the panel and slithered to the floor.Shit, shit, shit.
The sirens blared, stabbing her ears, vibrating through her body like electric shocks. Her chest tightened.
Don’t panic. She forced her eyes open.Breathe. In, two, three...
Another blast shattered her concentration. She was nearly blind.The dark, the sirens... Get down! On the floor!
A phone shrilled from the wall, tearing against the horns. She stumbled toward it, her breath choppy, desperate for relief. For silence. She fumbled for the receiver, her hands shaking. “Hell... Hello?”
“This is Island Security.” She could barely make out the words through the deafening brays. “Can you give me the passcode, please?”
Her mind blanked. Her head pounded.Passcode?“You need...” She tried to think. “Jane.”
“Is she there?”
More sirens. Black spots danced before her eyes.Make it stop. Please. “No.”
“The passcode, please,” the voice said implacably.
She gripped the phone, her palms sweating. “I don’t have it. I...”Work here, she wanted to say. But she had no air.
“If you can’t give us the passcode, we will notify the police.”
Rough voices shouting, glass breaking. Gunfire.
Stay down! Police!
She curled in on herself, struggling to breathe.
“Ma’am, the police are on the way.”
She slid to the floor, holding the receiver to her chest, the sirens blaring in her head.
Seven
THE SECURITY ALARMblared like a damned air raid siren, covering the sound of Jack’s entrance. He swept a look around the kitchen. Lauren curled on the tiled floor, her back against the wall, gasping for breath.
The sight of her hit his chest like a bullet.
He pushed down his instinct to go to her. As a sniper, you learned to control your reactions, to get into the zone where you were calm. Controlled. You couldn’t make assumptions. Especially ones that could get you killed.
Senses alert, heart pumping, he scanned the room for potential targets, the corners, the shadowy aisles.Nothing. Lauren was alone.
He relaxed his grip on his weapon and stepped deliberately into the dim light.
Her head jerked up as she saw him. No blood, but she was definitely not all right. Her body shook. Her eyes were dark and cavernous in her flushed face.
He strode down the narrow work aisle and plucked the phone from her chest. “Ned, it’s Jack Rossi.” He cupped the receiver, pitching his voice below the screaming sirens. “Yeah, everything checks out. You want to—”
