LITMIR.BIZ

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know where he’s shooting from, I don’t know what he can see. So stay low, grab your clothes and get to the hallway.”

      She moved in slow motion, finding her shirt, jeans, bra, panties, shoes. Then she crawled on her own carpet to the hallway, expecting a bullet in her back the whole way.

      She bumped into Milo and nearly screamed, but he just licked her face, huddling close, his tail wagging. She hugged him tight, then struggled into her clothes, watching as Boone made his way to the window.

      How could the bastard have seen them? The blinds were drawn, so how could he see? Was his timing on purpose? Was he watching them make love, just waiting until they came to shoot Boone? If she hadn’t seen the red dot, then Boone would have fallen on her body. He would have still been inside her.

      She was shaking, so damn hard she couldn’t hook her bra. There was no way she was going to cry. Not while he could see her. Not while that asshole was outside, looking in.

      “Where’s your purse?”

      “What?”

      Boone didn’t look at her. He was almost to the window, and she could make out the muscles in his back, in his thighs. He didn’t touch the blinds, but she saw where the bullet had broken through. She could see the glint of glass on the carpet.

      Even the blood on the bed hadn’t felt like this. Hadn’t ripped the last shred of safety from the edges of her mind. Finally, she got the bra on and then she put her shirt over her head. The moment of blackness nearly made her pass out, but she didn’t cry.

      “Your purse. Where’s your purse?”

      “In the kitchen.”

      “Are you dressed?”

      “I don’t have my shoes on.”

      “That’s okay. Can you get to your purse without standing up? Can you keep clear of the windows?”

      “I think—Yeah. I can.”

      “Do that. Carefully. Then get your keys out, okay?”

      “Okay.”

      He looked at her. “Keep it together, Christie. I’ve got you.”

      She nodded, thought about putting on her sneakers, but she headed for the kitchen on hands and knees. Milo trotted along with her, trying to get her attention, but she ignored him. Inch by inch she crawled until she saw her purse next to her chair. She’d put it there so casually, not ever thinking that it was out of the line of sight of a sniper.

      There was no sound at all from the other room. All she wanted to do was turn, see Boone, just for a second. Make sure he was still there. Still alive. But she kept moving until she could touch the edge of her purse, feel the leather strap in her hand.

      If her heart would just stop pounding, she’d catch her breath and it would be okay. It wouldn’t hurt so much. She brought her purse up to her chest, and crawled back to the hallway, instantly better when she saw that Boone was fine.

      He wasn’t naked anymore. He had on jeans and he was pulling on a pair of socks.

      Socks. She hadn’t gotten socks, and she hated to wear her sneakers without socks, but she couldn’t get them now. The tears she’d been fighting broke through. She swiped them away, pissed that she was crying over stupid socks.

      “Christie?”

      She sniffed, swiped. “Yeah.”

      “You have the purse?”

      “Yes.”

      “Get out your car keys.”

      “Okay.” She opened her purse and found her keys, but she had to hold them in her fist because they made so much noise.

      “Now make sure Milo follows, and head for the garage door, okay? Keep low. Take your purse, and go to the door, but don’t open it, you understand?”

      “Yeah. Okay. You’re coming, right?”

      “I’ll be right there.”

      She didn’t have to encourage Milo. He’d caught on that things weren’t good, and he was sticking close to the pack, his tail between his legs, his nose low to the ground. She knew just how he felt.

      When they got to the door that led into the garage, Christie realized she hadn’t taken her shoes, which made weeping over socks seem pretty ridiculous.

      She put her back against the wall, her purse on her chest, her arms over her purse. Her bare feet were flat on the cold floor. Milo sat in front of her, his head on his paws, his eyes staring up at her.

      There was no noise, no sound at all. Boone would come in a second. Any second. She started counting, keeping the rhythm steady. Ten, eleven, twelve…

      When she got to eighty, she realized she’d left her gun in the living room. So when the bastard broke in, she’d be here, barefoot and helpless. All that training for nothing. What did it matter? She couldn’t hit the target. She’d have missed him anyway.

      “You okay?”

      She jumped against the door, then realized it was Boone, and he was still with her. “Can we go now?”

      “We can. Let’s just do this by the book, okay?” He was coming toward her, crouched but not crawling, wearing his shirt, a leather jacket, holding his duffel under his left arm, his gun in his right hand. “You need to carry my bag and give me the keys.”

      She nodded.

      “Christie, honey? The keys?”

      She passed them over, and took his duffel, which was incredibly heavy.

      “Can you do it?”

      “Yes.”

      “All right. No lights. Just let Milo in the backseat, then you get into the passenger seat. Put your seat belt on the second you close the door.

      “Where are we going?”

      “I’ll tell you when we’re clear. Right now, just concentrate on getting in the car.”

      She nodded, wishing she’d remembered her shoes.

      Boone opened the door. She stood, feeling that target in the center of her back. She headed out, Milo on her heels, and did exactly as she was told. Boone got behind the wheel, pressed the outer garage button, then turned the key.

      This, she was familiar with. The darting out, the escape. But the last time she’d had to do it she’d been alone. There’d been no hole in her wall.

      They hit the street in a screech of tires, then he pressed the button, and put the car in Drive. She had to hold on, despite the seat belt, as he jetted forward. She didn’t let go until they were on the San Diego Freeway.

      “Are you okay?”

      “No, I’m not okay,” she said. “I forgot my shoes. And you were almost killed.”

      “But you’re not hurt?”

      “No. How did he know where to shoot?”

      “There are ways. I’m guessing he drilled a hole in the wall, very small, sent a tiny camera through.”

      “Seth didn’t find it?”

      “No, he didn’t. I don’t know why. Seth is really good at what he does.”

      “Not good enough.”

      Boone put his hand on her thigh. “You saved my life.”

      “I suppose so.”

      “Thank you.”

      She nodded, but she couldn’t speak. Not without breaking down, and dammit, she wouldn’t. No more crying. The bastard had chased her out of her home.

      “We’re going to my place,” he said. “We’ll regroup. We’ll figure

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