Page 68 of Tactical Lies

“Okay,” she said again, a slight wobble in her voice.

“I love you, moonlight.” With his weapon in his hand and his cell phone in his pocket, Connor paused only long enough to crush his lips to hers in a far too brief kiss before he was stalking toward the door.

“I love you, too.”

The whispered words followed him down the stairs. It was dark down there as well. Even though there had been no lights on when he locked up and took Becca back upstairs to bed, there should be the glow of the clock on the microwave and the one on the oven.

Both were dark.

Which meant there was definitely no power in the cabin.

One step outside was all it took for him to be completely drenched. The wind was horrendous, and he could hear thunder rumbling in the distance although he hadn't spotted a flash of lightning yet.

Since Cade had owned this cabin for years, and he’d taken the whole family out there on several occasions, Connor knew exactly where the generator was and it didn't take him long to get to it.

Once he did, his worst fears were confirmed.

This wasn't storm damage.

It looked like someone had gone to town on the thing with a baseball bat. It was broken beyond repair and would have to be replaced.

Someone had wanted to knock the power out, had done it deliberately, which meant he and Becca weren't alone. It had to be the people his family was hunting, there were no other logical conclusions to draw, but how had they found them? And so quickly. They’d only been there a matter of days and yet they’d already been found.

Whoever it was hadn't gone straight to the cabin after destroying the generator. Even if he’d woken as soon as the lights went out, it had taken him several minutes to wake Becca, get dressed, and get outside.

What were they waiting for?

Were they watching him right now?

Were they wanting to separate him and Becca? If they were, he’d just given them exactly what they were after.

What was the end goal? To kill them? To abduct them? To torture Becca in front of him until he agreed to back off? To torture him in front of her until her screams and pleas forced him to give in?

Whatever it was, he had to get to Becca, had to get her to the car and out of there.

Just as he turned to head back to the house, the sound of a gunshot roared above the howl of the wind, and pain stabbed through him.

August 23rd

1:09 A.M.

That was a gunshot.

Wasn't it?

Becca froze, unsure what she was supposed to do.

Connor had insisted she stay inside, hide somewhere, remain armed, and call for help if they needed it.

They needed it.

Gunshots meant bad news.

It couldn’t be anything else.

Wearing the same jean cut-offs, T-shirt, and sweater she’d been wearing yesterday, her prosthetic was back on, and she’d just finished shoving her feet into her sneakers when she’d heard the unmistakable crack of a bullet being fired.

Itwasa bullet being fired, wasn't it?

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