“The hell you can,” Cal snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut. She’d get herself killed, and worse, her wild fire could put Alena or him in the line of a bullet.
Before she could rise higher, Cal grabbed her wrist, wrenched the gun from her hand, and shoved it into the back of his jeans. “Stay down, Melissa,” he barked, pinning her with a look that brooked no argument. “You move again, and you’ll get us all killed.”
Fury pounded through him, thick and hot. Melissa had put Alena in danger, dragged them all into this mess, and now she was making it worse.
Bullets spat dirt close enough that shards stung his face. Cal lowered his head, eyes narrowing. He had to find a way to shift this fight before it ended with Alena bleeding out.
“Alena,” Cal called low, just enough for her to hear him. “Keep an eye on the gunman by the road.”
He wanted to tell Raines, too, but that would mean shouting, and shouting would mean drawing attention to Alena’s position. Not happening.
Cal waited, muscles taut, until he saw her shifting into place, edging around until she had a line of sight on the road. Relief flickered, brief and thin, before he turned back to his own side of the fight.
He eased out from cover, sighting toward the creek. The muzzle flashes had come from about thirty yards across. Not far, not really. A straight shot for his Glock under normal circumstances.
Except he couldn’t see the son of a bitch. Not even a shadow. Whoever it was, they were dug in good, firing and hiding like a pro.
Cal ground his teeth. He’d have to take the chance, fire blind, and pray he didn’t hit some unlucky hunter or hiker who just happened to be out there. His finger tightened on the trigger, adrenaline burning through every vein.
He leaned out, finger tight on the trigger, but before he could fire, a barrage of gunfire erupted from the road. Bullets smacked stone and dirt all around him, forcing him back behind cover. The bastard up there was laying it down thick, doing everything he could to keep Cal from sighting across the creek.
Pinned, Cal turned his head. The moonlight was just enough for him to catch Alena’s eyes. He didn’t say a word, didn’t dare, but she read him anyway.
She pivoted smoothly, shifting her aim away from the road. Her gun came up steady, dark steel gleaming faintly in the pale light, and she leveled it at the creek.
One shot cracked through the chaos.
Cal’s pulse jumped at the sound that followed—the unmistakable thud of a bullet hitting flesh and a strangled cry cutting the night.
One down. One to go.
But Cal’s gut twisted. Was it Dexter she’d hit, or just wounded? Or maybe it wasn’t him at all. There was no way to tell across the creek, not yet.
The shooter on the road shifted fire, and the crack of rounds tore the air in Alena’s direction. She dove low, scrambling behind the thin cover of a cedar trunk, bark splintering inches from her. Cal’s heart slammed hard enough to choke him.
From the ground, Arneson lifted his head, voice raw and desperate. “Dexter! If you’re the one doing this, you need to stop! This has to stop now!”
The plea went unanswered, swallowed by more gunfire. Every round still poured toward Alena. She was the target, and Cal knew it wouldn’t be long before one of those bullets found her.
His jaw locked. He couldn’t let that happen.
Raines opened up from his cover, shots cracking through the night. Cal listened hard, the pattern telling him everything. Raines was keeping his rounds high, snapping bark off the trees above the shooter. He wasn’t trying to hit. He was trying not to kill some poor driver who might roll past on the road at the wrong time.
Cal shifted, heart hammering, and found Alena’s gaze. Moonlight lit her face just enough for him to see the determination there. Then she tipped her head, just slightly, toward the other side of the cabin.
His stomach sank. He knew exactly what she had in mind.
“No,” he mouthed, but it was too late. She pivoted and scrambled low, darting behind the far side of the cabin before another round could pin her in place.
Cal’s hands clenched around his Glock. He knew her plan. She was going to circle around, get up to the road, and take the fight to the shooter herself.
But that meant she could end up face-to-face with Dexter. Alone.
The thought twisted like a blade in his gut.
Cal watched Melissa sob, watched the way her shoulders shook as she begged him to use her as bait. The sound made his gut twist.
“No,” he said, flat. He wasn’t handing her off to die. Not for anything.
