Page 72 of Raging Inferno

Kayne loved kids. With the life he’d lead, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have any of his own. He’d taken lives in the name of country. Blood coated his hands. Didn’t matter that the kills had been sanctioned or that he’d been following orders. The god hismawmawprayed to probably wouldn’t forgive him for ending a life. Neither would she. Oh,mon Dieu, she would take a switch to his backside until he couldn’t sit down for a week. He’d suffered through his fair share of those punishments when he’d been a hell-raising teenager.

Kayne took out his computer and powered it up. He wanted to research Presley’s old boss, Ed Smith. When she’d told him what had happened, he’d felt a murderous rage on behalf of his friend. Presley projected an exterior that was tough as nails, but she had a soft heart. If someone had messed with her, Kayne wanted to have a word with the bastard.

Before he could do any digging, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something was happening.

Setting the computer aside, he scanned the area. A sharp retort told him all he needed to know. Someone was shooting. He spotted the perp in a tree.

Shoving the SUV in drive, he headed after them.

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The damn heels Presley wore hampered her movement. Why women wore them was beyond her. Another bullet barely missed her, thanks to Dominic. He yanked her arm, jerking her behind a tree with him.

Ear-piercing screams told her the mourners had heard the shots and were running for cover. They should be safe since Presley was the target.

“I’ve got eyes on the shooter,” Kayne said. “Going after him.”

“Damn it, Presley, you’re bleeding.”

She looked down at her arm where a chunk of skin was missing. That was the sting she’d felt. There would be time to examine it when the threat was eliminated. “It’s nothing.”

“Let me look at it.”

“Later.”

“Where did you get a gun?”

“Handbag.” She’d bought one at the outlet mall specifically for that purpose. Peeking around the tree, she looked for the bad guy but saw no movement.

Kayne let out a string of very colorful curses in her ear.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got boxed in by a procession of cars speeding out of here. The shooter got away.”

Presley dialed Reggie. When he answered, she tersely informed him, “Eddie Smith is in the vicinity of Serenity Shores Cemetery.”

“Did you see him?”

“No. He shot at us.”

“How do you know . . . never mind. Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“I heard the shots. I’m at the cemetery now. Where are you?”

She glanced at the name of the closest street. “Paper Birch Lane.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“We’re up the hill from Nancy’s service . . . I see you.” She waved a hand, and Reggie jogged to them.

“You’re bleeding.”

“He nicked me, but it’s fine.”

“Do you know what he was driving?” Reggie questioned.

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