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“My offer to work for me stands. I’d be more than happy to employ you to help run our firewood business.” Granger’s phone blaring snaps both our gazes to the table. Letting me go, he turns toward it. “Asha is here.”

“Did he get him?” Hope flashes through me. It couldn’t be that easy could it?

Granger’s gaze meets mine and I know before he says a word. “No. He’s not there.”

“What do you mean he’s not there? You just looked. He was right there!” My voice rises with each word as panic surges up my throat and squeezes.

“I don’t know. He probably heard the plow coming up the road and took off.” Granger is tapping at his phone. “I can’t find him on any of the other cameras…”

“Why didn’t your system alert us he was moving? I thought it was supposed to do that. Why didn’t it do that?” My chest hurts, my heart pounding so hard I wrap my arms around myself. “Where is he?”

“Hey, hey, take a breath for me.” Granger moves in front of me, palms my face and tips it up so I have no choice but to look at him. “Brooke, look at me. Breathe with me. Nice and deep. You’re safe. He cannot get inside this house and Asha is right outside, coming down the driveway. He’ll be here⁠—”

An earsplitting screech cuts off his words. I don’t have time to figure out what it is before one of the living room windows explodes.

Glass flies across the room, and Granger shoves me toward the kitchen. “Get behind the island.”

I don’t think. Just react. It’s not until I’m on the floor, curled up, that my brain starts to work again. My ex must have smashed the window. To get inside? My ears are still ringing, but Granger must have silenced the alarm because it’s no longer filling the room with noise.

No. Now the noise is my ex yelling. “Where is the bitch?”

Granger calmly talking. “You’re not getting near her.”

Maniacal laughter skitters across my nerves. “Like hell I’m not.”

“You don’t want to wave that around.”

Wave what around? Sliding along the floor, I peek around the edge of the island and find my worst nightmare. My ex stands just inside the broken window, a gun in his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with this,” he yells before pointing it at the couch and firing.

It takes everything I have to stifle my scream. Granger doesn’t flinch. Not a twitch. And of the two men, Granger is the scarier. My ex might have a gun but Granger has a vibe that any sane person can read.

“Put that down and get out.” How Granger can remain calm in the face of my obviously deranged ex I’ll never understand.

“Where. Is. The. Bitch?” My ex levels the gun on Granger and moves to the side, in my direction.

If I can distract him, would Granger be able to disarm him? Would I be putting him in more danger if I tried?

Glancing around, my gaze lands on the drawers behind me. I try to remember if there is anything in them that I can use to make my ex lose focus.

Edging over, I pull the bottom drawer out and find a bunch of towels. They won’t help. Moving up a drawer, I cringe when it squeaks, but Granger choses that moment to speak again.

“Why don’t you put the gun away and we can work everything out?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Another shot explodes and I hold my breath, pray he didn’t aim at Granger. When there is no pained cry and my ex yells, “Nobody tells me what to do!”, I breathe.

Ignoring the unhinged sound of my ex’s shouts and my need to look to make sure Granger is okay, I scan the drawer. There isn’t much in the way of weapons but what there is might be exactly what I need. Four small knives, the kind you use with a cheese platter, sit hidden amongst the larger kitchen utensils. With care, I pick them up and move back to the far side of the island.

From this position I’m to the left and behind my ex. All I need to do is throw each knife in a different direction. If I can get one to land on the far side of him, he’ll look that way, then another behind him so he spins further away from me and where Granger stands. I just have to time it and hope my aim is good.

I have to get this right. There’s no room for error, and I have to be sure he can’t see me when I make the first throw or else my plan won’t work at all. The last thing I need is to draw his attention this way.

With a small murmured prayer, I line the knives up at my knees and get into position. I’ve got a clear shot under the table for the first one as long as I miss all the chair legs. I haven’t played ball since high school, but I was a pretty good pitcher back then and I can only hope it’s like riding a bike.

Taking a deep breath, I peek around the island and see they’ve moved a little. My ex now has more of his back toward me, which gives me a better chance of doing this without being seen.

Shuffling forward a little more, I pick up the first knife and don’t think. I pull my arm back as best I can while kneeling on the floor and swing.