“I … I don’t know what you mean! Please!”
“Maybe he isn’t with them, Gable,” Ella says softly, and the stranger’s eyes move to her. The flicker of recognition is all I need to know I’m going to kill him, but the barely concealed lust confirms that I’ll also hurt him.
“Look at her like that again and I’ll remove pieces of you,” I say, pressing harder into his throat until he looks at me.
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t look anywhere close to apologetic. “She’s cute for a million dollars.”
The snap of his neck is loud in the quiet room.
Ella gasps sharply behind me as the stranger slumps to the ground.
I heave in breaths, my skin hot, my mind buzzing from adrenaline and bone-shattering fear.
They’ve found us.
I face Ella, and she stares at me, her blue eyes wide. For a moment, I think she might run—instead, she rushes to me and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her ear to my chest.
Relief almost swallows me whole, and I hold the back of her head.
“What do we do?” she whispers.
I take her hand, leading her upstairs and back into thebedroom. Motor stands up on the bed on high alert. I snatch open the nightstand drawer and take my gun out before handing it to her.
“Stay here. Shoot anyone that comes in.” She nods, and because she doesn’t argue for once, I kiss her. “You’re sure there were three?”
She nods again. “Three out back and the one at the front door. Four total.”
I look at her pointedly. “Gibson.”
A pretty scowl appears. “I can count, Gable.”
“Okay. Don’t die.”
She squeaks in response, and I leave the bedroom.
My heart is beating too damn fast, and that isn’t like me. Usually, I’m calm and collected, eager for the kill but composed. Tonight, my head is in two places—my target and Ella.
She can take care of herself. And she has Motor.
But if anything happens to her?—
No, nothing will.
I won’t let it.
Passing the kitchen, I swiftly pull a knife from the knife block before approaching the side door. I adjust the blade in my hand. I’d prefer to use a gun, but it’ll be loud, the sound will carry, and it’s a waste of bullets.
I head for the far side of the house, still bare-chested and barefoot. It’s fucking freezing outside, but there isn’t exactly time to get dressed. I ease open the door to the porch, and if Ella is right about where they are, I might have the element of surprise.
The snow is falling thick and fast as I step outside and wait. Looking to my right where the porch leads to the front of the house and seeing no one, I head left. I keep my back close to the wall, knife firmly in my grip, thumb pressedto the base of the handle, and sidestep slowly. I’m approaching the corner that’ll lead me to the full porch at the back of the cabin when someone backs into view. He’s laughing, a tall, skinny guy, hunched over in a black raincoat. He’s distracted and has no idea I’m here.
Amateur.
I snatch him out of view and stick the knife in his throat. He gargles once but doesn’t shout, and even if he had, I doubt anyone would hear him. Lowering him to the ground, I wipe off the knife handle and my palm against his jacket and keep moving.
One down.
I edge to the corner.
