have no idea how they’ll react. But in the meantime you’re stuck with me. If Kahsan does bite-”
“If? I would say it was more a question of when.”
A snap of wood echoed from outside almost in response to Sabrina’s statement. It was a simple sound. The sound a cold, near frozen, branch makes when the wind hits a tree too hard.
Or the sound a heavy foot makes when it steps on a board that can’t support its weight.
Inside the house they froze, then stared hard at each other, no communication necessary for what they both understood.
They had company.
Chapter 5
“Who?” Sabrina mouthed.
Quinlan’s expression was severe. “Who do you think?”
But that didn’t make sense. If it was Kahsan and he was moving on her, why do it now when there were two of them?
“No. It doesn’t work,” Sabrina whispered, shaking her head. “Besides, whoever is out there is making too much noise to be anything but hired help.”
Quinlan held a finger to his mouth, the universal sign to shut up. Quiet descended. Then another creak. This time the sound of pressure on wood rather than an actual snap. Sabrina was even more convinced. Whoever was outside was trying to be more careful, but they weren’t quite cutting it. One more step and the board cracked. The noise was unmistakable. As was the surprised shout that followed. Whoever he was, he knew that stealth was no longer an option.
Instantly, Quinlan reached for his semiautomatic Glock in the holster under his arm. He moved to the corner of the living room dragging Sabrina with him. His body pressed her back against the wall between the front door and the bay window to their right as they waited.
The first shot that fired through the window wasn’t a surprise. Then came another. Then all hell broke loose. Together they crouched to their knees tucked as tightly as they could in the corner of the room, their bodies hopefully sheltered by the sturdy beams of the old house, while someone took aim at them from outside with what could only be an AK-47.
Glass shattered inside the room as bullets ricocheted off the brick fireplace. From the foyer she could hear the glass surrounding the front door falling in chunks to the hardwood floor.
“Damn it,” she cursed.
“You hit?”
“No. I used stained glass around the front door. Do you know how much that costs?”
“How many shooters?” he asked.
Sabrina counted the bullets leaving marks in her living-room wall. Then she estimated what was landing in the foyer. Applying that to what she knew a semiautomatic rifle could hold, she answered, “Two shooters, far enough away that I’m probably not counting the guy from the porch.” She shook her head. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“You asked for this,” he growled even as he covered her face with his arm to protect her from the flying glass.
“No, he can’t want me dead. I’m the only one who can get him what he needs.”
“Fine, then he’s trying to take me out. Regardless, we’ve got trouble.”
But that didn’t make sense, either, she thought, even as the bullets were zinging over their heads. She’d made it clear she didn’t know the location of Arnold’s computer. What good did it do Kahsan to take out the agent making contact until he was sure she knew where they were going? Something else was at play.
“We need to get out of here,” Quinlan concluded as glass continued to pepper them.
“Definitely. The driver?”
“He’ll stay in the car. It’s bulletproof.” Reaching for the Nextel two-way phone that he kept attached to his belt at all times, Quinlan hit a button. “Horner. Horner.”
There was a small pause before he heard an answer. “Where?”
“Around back. Pull the car up as close as you can.”
“There’s a raised deck out back,” Sabrina told him.
“How many feet wide?”
“Seven and three quarters. That’s as close as he’ll be able to get.” She knew he was considering that it was a long way to run uncovered with only one gun to return fire against two AK-47s.
“We’re going to need another gun,” she said, telling him what he already knew. Her gun was upstairs. “Cover me, then get to the kitchen.”
“Sabrina,” he shouted.
She didn’t wait for whatever reprimands were sure to follow, but instead charged for the stairs that led to the second floor. She heard the sound of his return fire, which temporarily halted the barrage of flying steel.
Glancing behind her she could see the pinholes of light breaking through her front door and the glass surrounding it. Thirty-seven, she counted automatically. All of them above the level of the doorknob. Structurally there was nothing left to the door. A swift kick would knock it down.
Then she turned her head forward and continued up the stairs in a stooped position. No looking back in a gunfight. Keep your eyes on the place you need to get to and get to it. How many times had Quinlan told her that?
Turning the corner on the second floor she raced for her bedroom, keeping her head low and found what she needed in the drawer of her nightstand.
Wrapping her hand around the compact silver Colt 45 Defender, she sighed with relief. With a gun in her hand, there was at least a chance. Moving forward she winced as a piece of glass she’d picked up from downstairs pinched through her sock. Acting quickly, she shucked both socks and fished out her rarely used jogging sneakers that she habitually kept under her bed. Shoving her feet into them, laces untied, she moved out of the bedroom. The tempo of the bullets was picking up again.
Once more her fast brain tried to decipher what this meant. Killing her made no sense. None. Without her, the data that Kahsan wanted would be lost. And why the heavy-handed approach? Why not fucking knock first?
Rather than head down the staircase, Sabrina moved around the second-floor landing to the room that had served as the laundry room. There was another flight of stairs that led to the kitchen and from there she and Quinlan could exit the back of the house where the driver hopefully was waiting.
She didn’t have to wonder if Quinlan would be there. His goal was the same as hers. Trading fire would get him nothing. Racing down the stairs, she stopped at the archway opening to the kitchen. Quiet. Reloading? Or maybe they were repositioning themselves.
“Sabrina.”
She immediately spotted him in the darkened room situated behind the open refrigerator door. He’d taken out the overhead light in the room with a single shot rather than try to find the switch. He’d even broken the light inside the refrigerator. Thorough, she thought. That was something she’d never forgotten about him.
Diving, she rolled her body on the ground in a somersault. By the time she was on her feet again, she was behind him, the cool air of the refrigerator hitting her back. She positioned her gun over his shoulder, aiming it at the half-glass storm door that led to the back deck.
He turned his head and noted the gun. “Still love American guns.”
“They really are the best bang for the buck. No pun intended.” A few seconds passed as they assessed their next move. Sabrina wondered at the sudden quiet.
“They know where the car is,” Quinlan stated. “They know there is only one exit.”
“There is always more than one exit,” she corrected him as a better idea came to her. “You taught me that.”
He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Where?”
“Upstairs. Follow me.”
She led him back up the secondary staircase through the abandoned laundry room and toward one of the rooms
