I grunt through the aches and head on foot to make a sweep around the log cabin in the chilly September night.
Moonlight’s bright enough tonight to detail the exterior log walls, dark windows, and the pinecone wreath hanging on the front door. Single-car detached garage door is closed.
Nothing looks out of place.
Not much out of place, anyway.
Decker told me he crashed here a few nights last week, which explains the work gloves on the unsplit wood pile and the maul left out in the elements.
The dude always bitched about having to pick up after himself.
Annoyed the shit out of me when we were in the Marines together, but he’s a good guy regardless of his sloppy habits.
I shove the gloves in my back pocket and grab the maul, then finish the circle of the house. I retrieve my bag out of the back of my extended cab and sling it over my shoulder, weariness taking over with every step up the small porch to the front door.
It’s time for my head to hit a pillow.
I hit the code on the key panel, and a bright green light flashes in the darkness while the lock snicks open.
Finally.
Here.
Time to rest.
It’s habit to slip inside silently, so that’s what I do.
I’m on high alert still—seriously, so fucking hard not to be—but apparently not high enough, because when I hear a click and the subtle sound of string snapping, I don’t move fast enough.
And even if I did, it wouldn’t have been in the right direction.
Because my instinct is to duck, but gravity has already won for the opponent I didn’t know I have, and I get a cold, wet spray of water that rains down on top of my head.
I’m so startled at being startled here that I do the dumbass thing and look up as part of my visual sweep of the room, maul gripped and ready, but when I look up, a drop finds its way into one of my eyeballs, andfuck me, that’s not water.
Water doesn’t burn.
What the actual?—
Fuck on a flatbread, my eyeballs are on fire, and the scent of—fuck meagain.
Whatever’s burning my eyes smells like my ex when she’d touch up her roots in the bathroom.
Bathroom’s too far.
Kitchen’s on the right.
Kitchen sink.
Need to get to the kitchen sink, rinse this shit out, and then I need to sweep this place and find out if Decker has a crasher orif Decker’s playing a prank on me, in which case I need to decide how long he has to live.
I take a step in what I think is the right direction, and a cloud of dust explodes in my face, going right into my mouth and nose and making me cough.
And then the voices start.
So many, many voices. Male voices. Female voices. Indeterminate voices.
“Intruder!Intruder!”
