Page 17 of Unplanned Target

“Yeah, there’s power.” Allie shoves the key into the shiny new lock, twisting to flip the deadbolt. “But you have to do something outside to turn it on.” She swings the door open and starts to step inside, but I put an arm out to block her path.

“Wait here.” Pulling a flashlight from one of the pockets on my pants, I flick it on, gripping it in one hand as I hold my weapon and the other. Systematically, I move through the small space, checking the bedroom, bathroom, and utility room to make sure no one else is here. Once I’m confident the house is empty, I wave Miranda and Allie in.

Allie comes in first, using the phone she took from the junk drawer to illuminate the space. “It looks like Uncle Tony’s been here recently.” She points to a sofa sitting off to one side. “That’s usually covered with a sheet.”

“Not surprising. He disappeared on us for a bit. This is probably where he came.” And that makes me feel a hell of a lot better. If Butch felt safe here, there’s a good chance we’re safe here too.

“You two make sure the doors and windows are locked. I’ll go see about getting us some power.” Going out the back door, I survey the small porch. Like the rest of the place, it’s not fancy, but it’s sturdy and well-kept.

The stairs leading to the back lot are solid as I descend to the small clearing just behind the cabin where a tank of propane sits. Checking the gauge, I’m relieved to find it’s pretty much full.

Once I have the valve open for the propane, I continue exploring. I’m pleasantly surprised to find a nice-sized generator that’s definitely capable of handling our needs. After a few minutes of fiddling around, I manage to get it up and running.

With that done, I go back inside to check my success.

Flipping on the light switch just inside the door, Miranda gasps as the lights flicker on. Her eyes move around the cabin, taking it in fully for the first time. There’s not much of it to go around though, so soon her gaze lands on me. There’s something strange in her expression, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.

Probably exhaustion.

Going to the sink, I switch on the tap. The sound of a pump kicking on in the basement coincides with the sputter of water from the faucet. “We’ve got water and power.”

I stride across the room, turning on lights so I can get a better look at Butch’s place. The whole thing is pretty fucking nice. It’s not luxurious, but it’s more than comfortable. There’s a queen-sized bed in the bedroom with a pile of folded sheets and blankets centered on the mattress. A closet in the corner of the main room holds plenty of toiletries and towels. The bathroom is small, but it’s clean and has a flushing toilet, which is a definite plus. I don’t imagine Miranda and Allie would be thrilled to shit in a bucket.

Going back to the kitchen, I check the refrigerator and find it’s running and beginning to cool down. There’s a small pantry with some dry goods inside that look like they’ve been brought in relatively recently. It’s nothing fancy. Ramen, shelf stable microwave meals, coffee, and a few other odds and ends. Definitely enough that if Allie or Miranda is hungry tonight, they won’t have to starve.

“You two can have the bedroom.” I motion to the couch. “I’ll stay out here so I can keep an eye on things.”

Staying on the couch puts me between them and anyone who tries to come inside. I’m sure Butch won’t be thrilled if I get bloodstains all over his floors, but he’ll get over it. Especially if they’re created in the process of keeping his sister and niece safe.

“I’m tired.” Allie yawns. “I’m going to bed.”

I don’t know whether I’m impressed or concerned over how unaffected she seems to be by what’s happened today. Technically, she might not be aware someone shot at her mother—twice—but still. Allie knows someone was hunting her down, and it doesn’t appear that she’s going to lose any sleep over it.

“Not yet you won’t.” Miranda follows Allie into the bedroom. “We need to talk.”

I don’t have the first clue how to be a good parent. Couldn’t even begin to know what is the right thing to say to a kid who put themselves in an insane amount of danger hoping to help their friend.

So I might as well take a shower.

I grab a towel from the closet, along with a bar of soap, and head for the bathroom. After scrubbing myself from top to bottom, I wrap the towel around my waist and step out to brush my teeth. I’ve got the brush in my mouth and am scrubbing my way through the top row when the door suddenly flies open.

“Oh my God.” Miranda holds up her hands, like she can shield me with her palms. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were outside.”

Pulling the brush from my mouth, I spit the suds into the sink. “No reason to be sorry. I’m covered.” And thank God for that. Given how she’s reacting now, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if she’d gotten an eyeful of my dick and balls.

She probably would’ve passed out.

“I’m still sorry.” Miranda gives up attempting to offer me coverage, and drops both hands to her sides. “You’ve done so much for me. The least I could do is give you privacy.” The words coming out of her mouth say one thing, but her eyes seem to have a completely different plan. Instead of offering that privacy she feels obligated to give me, they roam over my body, taking in every inch of my bare skin. Starting at my shoulders, their dark depths move over my chest and stomach before reaching my thighs and calves.

It’s been a long fucking time since a woman has looked at me in any state of undress, and my body is embarrassingly reactive to her thorough perusal.

Cramming the toothbrush back between my teeth, I bite down to keep it in place as I adjust the tuck of the towel, positioning it so the layers of overlapping cotton do as much camouflaging as possible.

Miranda seems to suddenly realize she’s staring and jumps, her gaze darting away. But instead of leaving, she lingers in the doorway. Her voice is soft when she finally says, “I think she’s mad at me.”

I get rid of the last of my toothpaste and rinse the brush I also stole from Butch’s linen closet. “I don’t have any kids, so take this with a grain of salt. But I think occasionally pissing them off is a requirement of parenting.”

Miranda sighs. “I know. It just sucks when I’m the only one around to piss her off.”