Page 88 of Covert Temptation

No way to avoid the storm.

He crept around to the back, finding nothing but hay and the stench of rot. Here, some of the boards had fallen off, leaving only the rusty nails left on the exposed post holding the structure upright.

He looked up, hoping for a loft that he might be able to slip into, but he couldn’t see any access that wouldn’t expose his position.

Curses ran through his mind in time with his blood pounding in his ears. He clenched his fingers tighter around the gun grip.

He had to find an entry point—now. He couldn’t wait.

He spotted a small pile of rocks near the base of a fence post. Dante scooped one up, gauging the weight in his palm. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d do.

He crept back to the same window and hurled the rock with every ounce of fury in his body.

The glass shattered like a gunshot, loud and sharp. Inside, the man leaped up, spinning toward the sound with his gun drawn.

This was his chance. Dante sprinted for the main door.

The groaning metal screamed as he shoved it open, and he dove through and came up on one knee. He swept to the left, hisgaze barely registering Kennedy standing there in her bra and panties—just as the first shot rang out.

The flash came fast and bright.

Agony exploded in his side.

He went down hard, the breath punched from his lungs. Cold floorboards rushed up to meet him, and he rolled behind a feed bin. A grunt lodged behind his gritted teeth as he pressed his palm to the burn spreading beneath his ribs.

Missed the vest.

Fuck.

A second and third shot echoed through the wide, empty barn. Dust floated down like ash.

“Dante!” Kennedy’s scream tore through him with the same force as the bullet that laid him out.

He tried to speak but tasted copper.

He blinked up through the haze and found her hunched behind a stack of old crates, still trembling in her bra and panties, knees pulled to her chest. She was bleeding from a split lip. The purple bruise darkening on her arm filled Dante with fresh fury.

The bastard had hit her.

The sound that burst out of Dante was part snarl, part gasp.

Another shot pinged off the wall just inches from his head.

He ducked lower.

“Why don’t you come out and show me what you can do, SEAL!” the man shouted.

The piece of shit actually thought he had the advantage.

With his lips compressed in a grim line, he yanked a flash grenade from his belt.

He pulled the pin.

And waited.

Another shot rang out—closer. Goddammit, the bastard was moving.

No time like the present.

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