Page 29 of Desert Angel

He kissed her and headed down the hall and bed and she finished locking up and turning off the lights. As she trailed after him, she heard him humming something and smiled. She could get used to having him around.

Deep in the night, the sound woke her, bringing back memories of breaking glass. This time, however, the shots were hitting the stucco of the outside walls. Nikki rolled out of bed and lunged for the door, intent on finding Dylan. He met her in the hall and pushed her to the floor. “Crawl to the mudroom.”

Why the mudroom she wondered then knew. It was the only room without windows. She scrambled, ducking closer to the floor and wincing with each sound of a bullet striking the walls.

Dylan was close behind her, thumping along with his bad knee. He came to a stop beside her, pulling the door between the kitchen and mudroom closed. “Is there a weapon in the house?”

She nodded then winced again. “In the office.” On the other side of the kitchen. When Dylan began to crawl, she stopped him with a hand on his hip. “Let me. I’m faster.”

He turned and even in the dark, she could sense his amazement at her suggestion. “I’m not letting you—”

“My knee isn’t all busted up and I can get there and back before you make it there. Besides, where is your pistol?” When he held it up for her to see, the metal gleamed against the weak light the curing oven emitted. “You can watch me go.”

He grimaced and then nodded. “If you see anything—”

“I’ll be back here quick.” She gave his side a squeeze then, crouching as low as she could and still move, she crab crawled to the office. Grousing to herself at her insistence of closing doors after she left a room, she raised up enough to open the door, only to see the wood splinter an inch from her hand. Dylan cried out and she hit the floor, her heart thumping wildly.

Two more shots hit the door before Dylan made it to a vantage point where he could return the fire. Someone was hiding just outside the kitchen window near the table and firing into the room. Nikki, in her spot by the door, must be hidden behind the chairs enough to remain unseen. But the shots were coming closer and she tried to shrink into a ball, praying for herself and Dylan all the while.

He fired three shots before yelling at her. “Nikki? Nikki!”

“I’m okay. Just kinda stuck,” she replied, surprised at the calmness in her voice.

“I’m working on it, honey. Forget the office, try to get back over here.”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to move a muscle, didn’t want to breathe loud. Then another shot hit the wall near her rear and she scuttled under the table.

Dylan was on his belly now, nearer her but still so far away. He had his pistol trained on the window, his eyes on what she hoped was a target, but his focus seemed to remain on her. “Just find a spot, honey. Never mind coming back. Just find a spot.”

She would have rolled her eyes if she could open them right now. Another shot hit wood above her and she covered her head and tucked it in against her chest. “Just worry about you, okay?” She tried to yell it but it came out a whisper.

Interminable minutes passed as Nikki waited, occasional shots were exchanged and Dylan slowly inched toward the window. He counted the shots, counted his own, and waited.

Finally, when there was a pause in the shots, he figured the shooter was reloading and he scrambled toward the window. As he bumped into the wall below it he grimaced against the pain in his knee and his awkwardness. The sound of him hitting the wall echoed in his ears; he was announcing his location to the shooter.

A muffled curse from outside alerted him and Dylan rose to his good knee and took aim. As he did, he saw another figure rise and take aim. At Nikki, who somehow had wriggled her way out from under the table and was trying to make her way to him. He took sight of the man’s head and squeezed the trigger with a jerk.

15

Nikki let out a scream that was cut off by Dylan landing on top of her. She tried to take a breath but couldn’t. “Dylan?”

“You okay?”

For the umpteenth time, she said she was okay then pushed against him. “Hurry, someone is still shooting.”

“No, they’re not. He’s down,” Dylan said, his tone dark.

He rolled off of her and with an effort stood up. Nikki shifted to her knees and tried to pull him down to the floor with her. “There might be someone else.”

“I don’t think so,” he said and limped over to the wall switch and turned on the light. Still afraid to rise, Nikki watched as he walked back to the window and kicked an unfamiliar pistol along the wall and into the corner of the room. “Will you grab the sat phone and call the police, honey?”

Nikki finally did so, watching him lean into the now jagged, broken window and look outside. She dialed the number and joined him.

A man, dressed in dark clothes that were quickly becoming wet with blood, lay against the house, his eyes slits and his mouth set into a straight line.

“Do you know him?” Dylan asked, not taking his eyes off the man. Nikki saw the pistol in his hand at his side.

“No.” She’d never seen the man and hoped never to again.

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