The figure dove toward the bottom of the porch, sliding out of sight. A moment later, something thudded against the side of the house.

  “Get down!” he shouted to Meg, then ducked and closed his eyes.

  A second later, an explosion sounded, light flashed, windows shattered.

  Although his night vision was temporarily compromised by the grenade, he pushed up, drew his handgun, and slipped out of the window.

  * * *

  Meg shook glass particles from her hair and shoulders and widened her jaws to pop her ears. She’d covered them a second after the grenade landed on the porch between her and Wolf’s positions.

  Feeling as though she was wading through water, she pushed up just in time to see Wolf slip out the window. “No,” she said, but she couldn’t hear her own voice.

  She couldn’t sit tight. Didn’t want to withdraw to her pre-appointed position upstairs. And she wouldn’t, not with him outside, facing the man who’d lobbed a grenade at them.

  Bright spots remained in the center of her vision. She blinked to clear them, but to no avail. Setting aside her rifle, she moved out of the living room to the kitchen, paused to draw the Springfield holstered at her side, and slipped out the door, hoping to circle around to give Wolf cover.

  When she climbed down the back steps, an arm ensnared her waist and drew her hard against a solid chest. “It’s Reap,” a harsh voice said in her ear.

  She relaxed, and he let her go. “Wolf went out the window.”

  “Heading to the front,” Reaper said, likely for the team’s benefit. Her earpiece didn’t appear to be working, so she pulled it free and tossed it. “Keep behind me,” he said, close to her face.

  “Roger.” She wasn’t about to argue with him.

  Then he turned, crouched, and hurried forward. She tilted her head to keep his large, shadowed frame in her peripheral vision, unsure how she’d help with cotton wool filling her ears and head.

  At the corner of the cabin, he held up his closed fist. She halted, straining to hear. The center of her sight was clearing, adjusting to the darkness. And she heard muffled shouts. Fists thudding.

  Reaper rushed around the corner.

  With her weapon held in front of her, she halted at the edge of the building and peeked quickly toward the front yard.

  Two figures wrestled on the ground. Reaper dashed past them, running into the trees.

  A shot sounded from the direction Reaper had disappeared, accompanied by a bright flash.

  Another sent splinters her way as it struck the porch rails. That one came from the two battling on the ground. Two indistinguishable figures, but one of them was Wolf, and the other hadn’t cared what or who he might’ve hit when he’d fired.

  She didn’t dare interfere as much as she wanted. Keeping one eye on them, she scanned the area to make sure no one else made it into the clearing.

  More grunts and thuds sounded from the two. She moved closer. When she saw the glint of metal at the end of an outstretched arm, she rushed forward and stomped in the vicinity of a wrist.

  “Thanks,” Wolf growled.

  A moment later, a crunching sound was followed by silence.

  “Mine’s contained,” Wolf said.

  “I’m following Reaper,” she said, then ran toward the place she’d seen him disappear.

  “Dammit, Meg!”

  She might have grinned at his angry tone, but she was worried. Without comms, she didn’t know if Reaper was safe. Had no idea whether the team had managed to “contain” the rest of the attackers. But she was a cop. And she’d heard gunfire. She couldn’t choose the easier path—not and live with herself if anything went wrong.

  Once she entered the woods, she slowed her pace while tuning her ears to the sounds around her. She popped her ears again.

  Other than her own feet crunching in dried leaves and pine needles, she didn’t note a thing. Gunfire had receded in the distance. A good sign, she hoped.

  She kept moving, halting to listen, and moving again.

  When she heard rustling and labored breathing to her right, she moved around the place it originated, looking for cover before seeking out the source.

  A long, dark shadow rested against a tree while seated on the forest floor. Long enough, broad enough to be Reaper. She edged closer and knelt, her gun pointing just above the shadow. “I have a gun. Don’t move.”

  “Thank…fuck,” Reaper said, letting the hand holding his gun fall to the ground.

  His voice sounded tight. His words worried her more. She leaned toward him. “Where is he?” she whispered.

  “Not sure. Shot me then ran into the woods. Moving parallel to the cabin.”

  “Where are you hit?”

  When he didn’t answer, she leaned closer. “Reaper…”

  “My ass,” he bit out. “Sitting on it to stem blood flow.”

  He sounded so affronted, she felt a smile tug at her mouth.

  “Carly’s gonna kill me.”

  “Your comms working?”

  “Yeah. Five down. Nah, six. Wolf has one zip-tied up.”

  “Leaves one. If the count was right.”

  “Should get back to the house, Meg,” he said, sounding tired but still strong.

  “I’m not leaving you. If you roll over, I can apply better pressure to your wound.”

  “I’d rather you kept your gun hand free, sweetheart. Felicity’s talking now. Someone’s heading my way.”

  “One of ours?”

  “Yeah, didn’t I say?”

  “Nope.”

  “Shit. You better have the ’piece.”

  She felt for the radio earpiece in his ear and removed it, then stuck it into her own. An explosion of sounds filled her ear—the team offering updates, checking in.

  “Where the hell is Meg?” Wolf shouted.

  “Reaper’s unaccounted for, too,” Fetch said more quietly, but tension clear in his voice.

  “He entered the woods in front of the porch,” Felicity said.

  Meg cleared her throat. “Meg, here. Hotel-2. I’m with him.”

  Then she did her best to ignore the chatter to listen to the sounds around her.

  The snap of a twig sounded behind her. She dove over Reaper then turned, covering his body as best she could, and raised her weapon.

  A dark figure rushed toward her, arm extended.

  Instantly, she assessed he couldn’t be one of theirs. She pulled the trigger on her Springfield as a bright flash burst from the dark figure.

  Chapter 10

  Wolf ran, heedless of the danger, in the direction the shots had sounded. His heart thundered in his ears. Around him, others ran, all converging on a clearing in the woods.

  Starlight filtered through trees, not enough light to discern friend from foe. Not enough to tell whether the figure he nearly tripped over, lying on the ground, was her. Please, God.

  “Here,” Meg called out. “I’m here.”

  Relief nearly sent him to the ground, his knees were so weak. He sped toward her, sliding in the dirt as he went to his knees. She was bent over Reaper, her arm still extended. Gently, he reached for her weapon and pried it from her fingers. After setting it aside, he drew a deep breath.

  Others moved into the clearing. He didn’t care. He reached for her, and she bent forward to fling her arms around him.

  He held her against his chest, thankful for her strong embrace, thankful for so many things, foremost for the fact that, at last, the danger was past.

  “Don’t want to disturb this tender reunion…” Reaper drawled.

  Wolf gave Meg one last squeeze than moved back. “Hey, buddy. How’s the ass?”

  Reaper gave a feeble gust of laughter then groaned. “Think the bullet must have ricocheted before it hit me. Stings like hell, but I’m not dying here.”

  “Hey,” Fetch said, going to a knee beside them. “Felicity,” he said then paused.

  “What do we need?” she asked.

  “Reaper’s not walking out of here. Coroner can take care of the bastard Meg took down. That was your shot, right?”

  “Yeah,” Meg said. “That was mine.”

  Lights blinked on around the clearing from several flashlights. Wolf watched as one of the operatives walked over to the still figure on the ground and turned the body. He drew off a facemask.

  “It’s Jedediah,” the operative called out.

  “Caleb Jones is dead as well,” Felicity said. “We’re busy matching photos to the faces of the others. We have three breathing.”

  “Red Barton?” Meg asked.

  “A no-show. But it shouldn’t take long for warrants to be issued for Barton and Martin Bledsoe. FBI and local law enforcement are on the way.”

  Petrak walked up to them. “We’ve got a litter to carry Reaper to the road. Ambo’s coming.”

  Sure enough, sirens sounded in the distance.

  “Best you all head back to the house,” Petrak said. “We’ll keep watch over the prisoners and bodies. Felicity will give authorities their locations, but they’ll want to begin the interviews.”

  Meg stood and reached out her hand. “Thank you.”

  Petrak smiled. “My pleasure, Meg Henry.”

  Two other RIP operatives arrived with a tactical litter.

  “You ready, Reaper?” Fetch asked. “I’ll ride with you. Brian’s already been informed. He’s getting hold of Carly. I told them not to break any speed limits getting to the hospital in Kalispell. You’re gonna be okay. Said to be sure to tell her it’s mostly your pride that’s been injured.”

  Reaper grunted as the two operators set the litter beside him, and then rolled him onto the litter on his belly.

  Light flashed over his backside. Blood soaked the area around a tear in his jeans but didn’t burble. It appeared to be more of slow seep.

  “It’s an ass, folks,” Reaper ground out.

  “Just making sure you’re not gushing, man,” Fetch said, patting his other cheek. “Looks fine.”

  “Touch it again…” Reaper warned.

  Wolf chuckled. “We’ll check in on you after we’ve given our statements.”

  It took four operatives to lift and carry the big man away.

  Wolf’s gaze was already on Meg, who stood silently, her face set in grim lines. He moved toward her and reached for her hand. It was ice-cold.

  She looked startled for a second then glanced up at him.

  “Let’s go back to the cabin. I’m sure someone can put on a pot of coffee.”

  She gave a vague nod and didn’t resist when he tugged her behind him. Someone moved ahead of them, using a flashlight to guide them back to the cabin. Already, squad cars and dark sedans filled the drive. All the lights were on inside the house.

  Felicity was the first to greet them at the top of the porch steps.

  They made their way around a gaping hole in the porch, past splintered wood and glass, into the living room. “Let’s head to the kitchen,” Felicity said with a gentle smile.

  The redhead led them there, and then set two cups of coffee on the table. “We have about a minute before you’re surrounded by folks who’ll want to know what the hell went down here.”

  “What can we tell them?” Wolf said quietly.

  “What we already reviewed. The folks we brought in to provide you protection detected an incursion. Seven men attacked. We engaged.”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  Felicity looked at Meg. “You going to be okay?”

  Meg nodded. “Got it. Do we mention we set a trap hoping to flush out the two prison guards?”

  “So long as we don’t mention our surveillance of the militia’s members, we’ll be fine,” Felicity said. “I’ll let them know they can send someone in to talk to you.”

  When she left, Wolf pulled out a chair for Meg then sat beside her. “I know you’re exhausted,” he said.

  “Damn adrenaline,” she said, giving him a small smile.

  “When it fades, you feel a hundred years old.”

  “Two,” she said. “Hope Reaper’s okay.”

  Wolf raised a hand. “Close your eyes,” he said, then brushed away tiny, glittering shards of glass trapped in her hair. Then he cupped the side of her face. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I was scared for you. When you went out that window…” Tears filled her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

  Wolf leaned slowly toward her, gauging her expression to see whether she wanted to be touched. Knowing she was fighting to keep it together, he didn’t want to cause her more stress.

  But she raised her face to meet his kiss.

  It was quickly over—a second before footsteps announced the arrival of their first interrogators. He grabbed his cup and stood. “They’ll want to question us one at a time. You sit. See you when it’s over.”

  He didn’t feel good about leaving her alone. Not with her face so pale and her lips a little blue.

  “You won’t leave without me…?” she said when he was at the door.

  Wolf turned and gave her a nod. “You’ll be leaving with me, babe.”

  * * *

  Meg woke the next morning to sunshine streaming inside the bedroom. She rolled to her back, acknowledging the many aches in her body. Some from the bruises she’d sustained during the battle the previous night, some more intimate aches that Wolf was directly responsible for, although he’d tried to be gentle.

  After bringing her home, he’d stood her inside his shower to remove the last bits of splinters and glass that had made their way inside her clothing. Then he’d drawn a bath and bathed her like a child, washing her hair and every part of her body.

  When he’d led her to his bedroom, he’d covered her then leaned over to turn off the lamp on the nightstand, but she’d reached out to stop him. “Don’t go.”

  He’d nodded. “I’ll grab a shower and be right back.”

  Maybe ten minutes later, he slid nude between the sheets and reached for her, turning her away to spoon against her back, but she’d needed more.

  He’d been so gentle, so restrained, she’d nearly screamed. The moment he’d realized what she really needed, he’d cussed under his breath then stroked deep and hard. They’d reached the peak together.

  After that, she had no memory of what followed. Maybe she’d fallen asleep before he’d even withdrawn from inside her. But now, she finally felt warm, safe…free.

  She glanced around the freshly painted room. White ceiling and walls. She didn’t find the color unimaginative. It was perfectly offset by the dark four-poster bed and navy comforter. It was a restful room. Sparsely furnished.

  Her gaze went to the folding chair beside the bed. The clothes she’d worn yesterday were freshly laundered and folded. He’d done that while she’d slept. Smiling, she flipped back the sheets and dressed. Clothes were going to be a problem. So would new uniforms. But she’d worry tomorrow.

  Right now, she needed to see him. She found him in his kitchen, attaching a door to a cabinet. She watched him from the doorway, admiring the way his movements stretched his tee across his back. The man was perfectly made. And he was hers. He’d made sure the moment after he’d entered her last night to tell her so.

  We belong together, Meg.

  She thought about how that felt. To have someone. She’d never realized anything was missing from her life. Sure, she’d thought it would be nice to find someone to be with, but she’d never imagined this feeling. She was at once breathless and a little giddy. Happiness filled her.

  He turned and saw her. His smile was instant, matching hers. “Good morning.”

  “Thanks,” she said, glancing down at her clothes.

  His gaze followed hers. “We’ll have to do some shopping.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t have a driver’s license. Not sure how I’m going to get the bank to issue me a new debit card without one.” She sighed. “Everything’s going to be a pain.”

  He closed the door he’d installed then went to the sink and cleaned his hands. When he turned back to her, she bit her lower lip as she took in the sight of him coming toward her.

  “We can shop…tomorrow,” he said as he reached for her. “You won’t be needing any clothes today.”

  “Can I hope we have food in the refrigerator?” she said, grinning up at him.

  His shoulders slumped. “We’re too far out of town for delivery.”

  “Well, we can get dressed again…later.”

  She glanced at the cabinets. “I see you have a thing for white.”

  “I can see the dirt.” He made a face. “You can change them.”

  Meg shook her head. “I like it. When I woke up, I thought everything looks clean and new.”

  “There’s a lot still to do.”

  She winced. “I have to admit, I don’t know much about renovating a house, but I’m willing to learn.”

  Wolf moved closer, until every breath he took moved against her chest. His expression turned solemn. “Red Barton was apprehended last night. They caught him trying to cross the border into Canada. Martin Bledsoe was picked up this morning.”

  “So, no more worries.”

  “Just one,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Is it another deal breaker?”

  “Not sure,” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper.

  “I don’t think there will be any,” she said, getting a little nervous because his gaze was so steady, so focused on her expression. “I mean, I don’t care if you like to eat crackers in bed or actually like musicals and want to make me sit through every High School Musical movie—”

  He cinched her lips together with his thumb and forefinger. “I love you, Meg Henry. The only deal breaker will be if you don’t love me back.”

  Then he drew a deep breath and let go of her lips.

  She mashed her lips together then licked them, all the while noting the way his eyebrows converged as he waited for her response.

  Strangely, annoyingly, her eyes began to sting. She blinked to clear the moisture. “I’m not a crier,” she said under her breath.

 

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