He came off the floor faster than anyone pinned under a hundred-pound dog had any right to. One arm drove up hard to knock Remington sideways.
Rowan’s eyes went wide.
The man lunged across the kitchen toward her.
And Wes knew he couldn’t get there in time.
The man crossed the kitchen in three strides.
Rowan didn’t back up.
Every muscle in her body screamed at her to move, to run, to put something between herself and the man coming toward her. But her feet stayed planted and the gun stayed up and some part of her that was past fear and past thinking held its ground with a stubbornness that surprised even her.
He was two steps away when Lauren moved.
It wasn’t much. It wasn’t heroic. She simply stepped out from the corner near the refrigerator and put herself partially in his path. The unexpected presence of another body in the space between them made him check his stride for just a fraction of a second.
It was enough.
Rowan sidestepped hard to her left, keeping the gun up. She put the kitchen island between herself and the man as he adjusted course.
He came around the end of it fast, reaching for the weapon with one hand.
She drew it back and drove the butt of it into the side of his head.
The man hissed and pulled back with a moan.
Across the kitchen Wes used the distraction to get his man’s arm twisted behind his back. The sound that followed told her it hadn’t been gentle.
The man went down to one knee and stayed there.
Remington was back on his feet, placing himself between the first man and Rowan with a low, continuous sound in his chest that needed no interpretation.
The first man looked at the dog.
Then at Rowan and the gun still raised in her shaking hands.
Then he went still.
The kitchen settled into a taut and brittle silence broken only by everyone’s breathing and the distant sound of tires on gravel coming fast up the driveway.
Then multiple sets of tires.
Rowan kept the gun up and didn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her.
The front door flung open hard. “Police! Nobody move!”
Two officers she didn’t recognize came through first, weapons drawn. They took in the room in seconds. Wes with hisman on the floor, Remington standing guard, Rowan with the gun, Lauren pressed against the refrigerator. Then they began moving with practiced efficiency.
“Ma’am.” One of the officers moved toward Rowan, his voice careful and deliberate. “I need you to lower the weapon slowly and set it on the counter.”
Her arms shook so hard she was surprised she’d held it this long.
She lowered it. Set it down.
Her hands felt strange without it.
More voices sounded from outside. Radio static. The sound of another vehicle.
