His hackles rose.
Seconds later he saw the man creeping up the flagstone path.
Or... maybe not creeping. Striding, actually, as purposefully as any pizza delivery boy. Really tall guy. He was wearing dark skinny jeans and a grayish hoodie pulled up over his head. All of that looked like a burglar costume, or worse.
Apart from the fact that he was apparently using his cellphone as a flashlight. You’d have to be a pretty stupid burglar to do that.
Mac cocked the shotgun. That sound was about as primal as the growl of a wolf.
The guy froze.
“Yeah, whoever you are...” Mac all but hissed. “Don’t move a fucking hair.”
The guy remained frozen. Really frozen. One arm bent at the elbow, the other thrust out mid-stride. It was a very adult version of Simon Says.
“Holy fucking shit, dude...” The guy’s voice was an incredulous creak.
“Put your hands up where I can see them.”
“I swear to God I’m not a burglar. Are you... what the hell... does Avalon have an armed guard now?”
“PUT. THEM. UP. Not going to ask again.”
His arms shot up. So did the phone. Absurdly, the guy now looked like one of those idiots who aimed cell phones at concert stages in order to record them.
“Now turn around to face me. Really slowly.”
The guy turned around. Slowly.
Two things happened at once.
Mac could plainly read the wordDartmouthon the sweatshirt.
And the lights of the balcony above and the floodlights below switched on, and he was bathed in light.
Both he and the guy looked up at the balcony.
Avalon was peering over the edge. Her hair was spilling down around her and her face looked kind of grayish and taut in the bright light. Worried.
“Mac? Is that you? What’s happening out there? Are you okay? Should I call the cops?”
“Call Eli, Ava. This pervert was creeping around your house.”
The guy turned his face up to the balcony like a veritable Romeo, and plaintively said, “Avalon... for the love of God tell this guy who I am.”
“Oh shit,” she sighed. “Mac, this is Corbin.”
Silence.
“Ah,” Mac said.
And nothing else.
Which was astonishingly, almost thrillingly rude.
And he also didn’t put the gun down.
“I’m coming down,” she said tersely. “Neither of you move.”
