"Why?" He wasn't that sure he could trust her.

"I can shoot out the light and that will blind him a second. Then we'll go."

Riley nodded. He couldn't aim for it at this angle, but she could. With a last look to gauge her trustworthiness, he handed it over so that the barrel was pointed away from him. Jordan took it and scooted to the foot of the bed.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Hold on. Coby, to the master bedroom." The dog trotted out and down the hall, nails clicking on the bare floor. "Do it."

Jordan fired and shattered the lamp, plunging the room into sudden darkness. As she shoved herself across the floor, her bare feet easily gripping, bullets flew into the room above their heads. Riley followed her around the front of the bed on their way to the hall, where they sat up. No bullets would make it through all the walls in between. He extended his hand and she gave back the gun. Only now did he recognize the m.u.f.fled voice he was hearing-Quinn was talking on the radio Riley had dumped into the dresser drawer with everything else, the volume down.

"That way," he said, indicating the master bedroom and rising to his feet. Pa.s.sing the guest bathroom, they entered a large room with a sloping ceiling and a bay window in the opposite wall. Black furniture lined the red-painted, white-trimmed walls. Two hockey sticks were crossed on one wall beside a Washington Capitals jersey. Other walls showed a Baltimore Orioles baseball jersey and Baltimore Ravens football one. The few items atop tables were signed footb.a.l.l.s and the like. Off to one side, in a small nook, stood a black gun safe beneath several photos of Riley from the Marines, and medals he'd been awarded. The room couldn't have been more masculine.

They strode to the gun safe, which he opened to reveal a half dozen handguns, several rifles, and a.s.sorted Tasers, stun guns, police batons, and pepper spray. Knowing they didn't have much time, he grabbed two knives, efficiently loaded several more guns, and donned a pair of night vision goggles. Then he picked up a radio and switched it on, hearing Quinn say something about coming to investigate.

"Quinn, stay put," Riley commanded.

"You got trouble?" Quinn's voice asked.

"Yeah. You and Kris get out of here. Take anyone else with you."

"But-"

"Do it, Quinn. I don't have time to argue. Take the radio. I'm out."

Riley switched it off. "Whoever's shooting, they're probably on the way to the house now."

"Probably."

"Do you know who it might be?"

"Not sure. A hunch."

"Which says?"

"That it's Jake. He was never a great shot and used the laser when he could. No one else would use one at such a short range."

Riley nodded, noticing her eyes tighten at mention of the name. Maybe they'd had a thing. If so, it was apparently over. "Why would Jake try to kill you?"

"I intend to find out. What's the plan?"

"You wait at the top of the stairs. I'm headed out the window." He moved to the one overlooking the front porch and opened it. "Be careful. The floor board before the stairs creaks. Don't step on it."

"Yeah, I noticed it before."

"He'll have no choice but to search downstairs and come up next. Coby, stay," he added.

The dog sat, watching him.

"What are you gonna do?" Jordan asked.

"Capture him alive from behind." Riley stepped through and pulled the night vision goggles down, staring into the darkness and seeing no one there. He moved to the edge of the porch roof and expertly climbed down the beam to the porch railing, which he'd done a thousand times with his brothers, as a kid. He jumped to the ground with a soft thud. The back door was the obvious place the second a.s.sa.s.sin would go, so Riley moved to the side of the house with the kitchen window he'd dropped out of earlier. Peering inside, he saw no one.

Jogging to the back corner, he scanned the terrain, the goggles making it so much easier to be certain that no one was there. He looked out past the range targets to the areas he and Kris had searched earlier, now that he was aware of the possible sniper locations overlooking the guest house from behind. No one. The shooter was either inside his house already or had moved to the opposite side by the garage. Or he'd turned tail and fled, but Riley doubted that.

Riley frowned on realizing he'd never plugged the cameras back in. He retraced his steps to the front because that's where he would've tried to enter the house were he the sniper, mostly because it wasn't expected. Peering around the corner revealed no one, but the only remaining side he hadn't checked had the garage that he would've heard opening. Either the guy was over there, which made no sense, or he'd gone inside the back door already. Riley turned to go that way when a sc.r.a.ping sound above him made him look up toward the window he'd just exited. He saw nothing, but he backed away for a better angle and saw a black boot and someone's right leg disappearing into the bedroom window he'd emerged from.

He's definitely smart, Riley thought. Only now did he realize he should've taken the radio so he could communicate directly with Jordan. The mistake was uncharacteristic, but he'd been in a hurry. She had no idea who was behind her.

Cursing himself, Riley raced around to the back door as quietly as possible and stepped into the house, wondering how to warn Jordan someone was behind her and that Riley was the one down here, not the shooter. The dog, he realized. He whistled and Coby barked happily and charged down the stairs to him, with a demeanor of fearlessness that Riley hoped Jordan understood. Then Riley heard two heavy, booted footsteps and knew the a.s.sa.s.sin was on the move toward Jordan, probably thinking both of them were down here.

"Riley?" she called from out of sight, her voice uncertain.

"Here! He's behind you! Master bedroom!"

Gunfire from two different weapons interrupted him and the Marine charged up the stairs three steps at a time. As he neared the landing, gun raised, something clattered on the floor ahead, a final shot rang out with a flash, and then came another clatter that he recognized as a gun. In the hallway, a silhouette, larger than Jordan's, swung a fist that she blocked before throwing her own punch. Riley wanted to shoot past her but couldn't take the chance. He called to Coby and the dog charged past him, barking and growling as Riley followed.

The masked intruder, who was clearly a man by his size and bulk, pulled out a knife and swung down at Coby, but Jordan punched that arm so that he missed the dog, who chomped onto his leg. With a powerful leg jerk, the a.s.sa.s.sin slammed the canine into the wall but Coby didn't let go. Jordan slugged the man in the head. Then he charged, knife narrowly missing as she recoiled in response. Riley never had a clear shot before the a.s.sa.s.sin's momentum pushed all three of them over the first step.

As he tumbled backward, Riley s.n.a.t.c.hed the a.s.sa.s.sin's wrist, but the killer broke the knife-wielding arm free. He landed hard on his back, Jordan on top of him as if he was hugging her from behind, the a.s.sa.s.sin facing them as they rolled chaotically down the stairs. Their bodies separated on the way down, Coby coming free and falling, too. Four bodies finally crashed to a stop at the bottom.

Pain shot across Riley's back and one arm as he got to his knees, gritting teeth, eyes darting to the stun gun and his Nighthawk, both within reach. The goggles had fallen off in the tumble. Jordan was rising and Coby already stood, jaws agape as he lunged for one of the a.s.sa.s.sin's hands. The other hand, the one with the knife, was under the killer's body, which wasn't moving.

"The handgun," Riley commanded Jordan. He picked up the stun gun instead and put one hand on the a.s.sa.s.sin, who still hadn't stirred. "Don't move or it's a bullet in the head." No response came. As suspicion crept over him, the Marine flicked a look at Jordan. He nodded at a switch on the wall. "The light. Cody, down."

The dog backed off as Jordan flipped the hall light. Riley put two fingers to the man's jugular and detected no pulse. When he was sure the guy was dead, he slowly rolled the body over and saw what he expected. The man's knife had gone into his own chest, to the hilt, dark red blood pooling on the floor.

Chapter 7 Allies.

Jordan lowered the gun, stepped forward, and yanked off the black mask covering the dead a.s.sa.s.sin's head. A shaved black head greeted her, a nasty scar along one cheek ruining what was otherwise a handsome face. Tight-fitting black clothes covered a muscular frame that brought back more memories of his powerful embrace. But those arms would never hold anything ever again. The man was dead, the growing pool of dark red blood making that even more clear than the knife embedded in his chest.

"f.u.c.k me," she said, licking her lips. "It is Jake." Her own knife had sliced the cut into that face years ago during an emotional-and violent-breakup. Jake, or Jacques, had never forgiven her, his vanity more wounded than his dark skin. Still, for all the fighting and turmoil that had followed, she'd never thought he'd try to kill her. Especially on Thomas' orders. Someone had a lot of explaining to do before Jordan killed him.

"Who exactly is he?" Riley asked about the corpse.

"One of Thomas's guys. He trained me." She tried to keep the look of disgust off her face but wasn't sure she'd succeeded, judging by Riley's hard stare at her.

"We have a lot to discuss."

Jordan nodded. "What now?"

He eyed the gun in her hand and held out his for it, face neutral. Wordlessly, she gave it to him. "I'm not collecting the hit on you," she began, "if that's what you're wondering. I owe you my life. You might've saved me twice."

Riley didn't speak at first, just locked eyes with her as if a.s.sessing her sincerity. "Can I count on your help to track down Thomas?"

"Absolutely! Whatever you need." She felt a surge of loyalty for the man who'd saved her life, not once, but twice, for if he hadn't warned her that Jake was behind her just now, Jake would've shot her. No one had ever done something like that for her. A jumble of emotions made her unsure what to think about anyone, but the one thing she was certain of was that she could trust Riley with her life. She would take a bullet for him now. He deserved no less. But she didn't know what he thought of any of that. Unable to read his expression, she asked, "Does this mean you're giving me my freedom?"

He seemed to consider that before answering. "Yes. I'd rather you go with me. As you said, our objective is the same. We find out who put the hit on me and then kill Thomas. For both us."

Jordan nodded, unsure what to say. No one did her favors, not to mention ones of such magnitude. Her first thought was to get out of sight so no one investigated her. "You're calling the cops about him, I a.s.sume? You can't leave a body here."

"Yeah, that would cause trouble. I have no way to get rid of a body, so I'll have to call police."

"I think I have to be gone before they get here."

"Not necessarily. Your only crime is having shot into the house earlier. We can say you're my guest and the gun went off accidentally. Not perfect, but good enough. And we don't even mention it unless they ask about the broken picture here. There may not be much more investigation because we have the dead guy to pin everything on. It's not like there's a murder mystery to solve."

"I'd have to hide my pa.s.sport and real ID."

"Or the fake ones, but easy enough either way."

"What about the clothes you cut off me? Can't leave those around."

"I can give those to my family to stash in the big house or the older barn. Not worried about those. The real problem is that this guy shot up the house with a rifle, so it will be clear someone was trying to kill at least one of us. It won't look like just a home invasion or something."

"If the police think I was the target, I'll be investigated. I need to avoid that."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, too many questions there. We'll say it was me. Half true, probably. The Marines might want to investigate from an a.s.sumption it might be related to my service."

"And it is."

He sighed. "That could mean a bigger investigation into this, even into you."

"Then I think I need to get out of here."

"Maybe. I'm just concerned they'll be able to tell someone was here and that I'm hiding that part. How good is your cover ID?"

"A little thin. It's not designed to withstand much scrutiny. But it's clean."

"I think that's all you need. You won't be under suspicion."

Jordan gave him a long look. "Thanks to you. After I tried to kill you."

He shrugged. "You saved my dog. And I need you. Let's find out what he's carrying in case it implicates us in ways we don't like."

"Smart."

They went through Jake's pockets in a few seconds and found nothing but a garrote and a smartphone, which Jordan took.

Riley stood up. "Can you get into the phone?"

"Still trying." Jordan had gone through two codes already and knew it would lock for a few minutes at the next failure. It didn't need to be unlocked now unless Jake's fingerprint would do it. First she tried one more code, which worked. "f.u.c.ker," she muttered.

"Locked?"

"No, I got in."

"Then why the curse?"

"a.s.shole used my birthday."

He gave her a look. "This was personal, wasn't it?"

"Probably. f.u.c.ker's dead now, though, isn't he?"

Wryly, he said, "Remind me not to p.i.s.s you off."

Jordan blew him a kiss and undid the phone's security so it would never lock. "We'll check the phone later. Want to stash it for now."

"Upstairs. Not in the gun safe. Cops might want to look inside. Take the handcuffs off the bed while you're at it." He tossed her the keys. "Put those back in the safe. It's still open. Do you have marks on your wrists and ankles from the cuffs?"

"No. What are you gonna do?"

"Go find the perch and see what else is there. Shouldn't take a few minutes. I'll leave most for the cops to find. Just want to find anything that doesn't help us."

She pursed her lips, wanting to go, too, but trust had to start somewhere, as odd as that was right now. She'd had strange days, but never this strange.

They soon separated, Riley closing up the house so no one came in. He'd need to radio Quinn once he returned, but for now he and Coby took off at a run across the backyard, a powerful flashlight in his hand. Jordan went to the guest bedroom, where she tried to avoid stepping on gla.s.s shards or splinters from the bedpost shattered by Jake's bullet. From her suitcase, she grabbed shoes, a bra, and a few other items, like the vibrator. The cops might confiscate everything in the bag and she wasn't having that entered into evidence. The boots she'd been wearing when Riley captured her were the only thing he hadn't destroyed in undressing her, but as some broken gla.s.s lay on them, she let them be. Through the window she saw Riley's narrow flashlight beam sweeping the hills. She had no doubt he'd find Jake's gear.

Only now did she realize her elbow hurt, adrenaline having masked the pain until then. She went to the bathroom, and spotted her skin sc.r.a.pe in the mirror. She was lucky to get off so easy. After donning her bra and shoes, she scouted the upper floor for any evidence they might not want found, but she didn't see anything. She tucked Jake's phone in one pillowcase but left the vibrator tucked under the pillow, hoping that if the cops looked there and found the s.e.x toy, they'd be embarra.s.sed and decide to stop searching the bed. Any embarra.s.sment was a small price to pay.

Jordan returned to the first floor, eyeing Jake's corpse as she neared him. She sat two steps above him, gazing down with a mixture of anger, disappointment, and relief. Just days ago they'd shared a distrustful glance but no words. She remembered his smirk. Had he known then that he'd try to kill her? Certainly. And it had been both personal and an order, she knew, because Jake never did anything without one. That was a frequent point of contention between her, Jake, and Thomas. The two men had made it clear years ago that they were fed up with her independence, her doing things her own way, and her insistence on knowing why someone had to be killed. The last one was why she'd left them behind. Well, there'd been another reason.

That Jake had cheated on her had led to the fight that scarred his face, their breakup, and ultimately her striking out on her own as a hired gun. But in a way, that had been a mistake. Getting away from him wasn't, but none of her new clients had wanted to explain their rationale for hiring her. She accepted few of the jobs because of that, not wanting to end up killing for the wrong side, so to speak.

And there had been fewer jobs to be had. Despite the years of forging her own contacts, she and Thomas moved in the same circles and her former boss had put out the word that she'd gone rogue, as he'd put it. She wasn't to be hired. When the jobs pay you tens of thousands, you don't need too many, but settling down hadn't been an option because word on the street was that Thomas would never leave her be. She'd seen evidence of it herself, with people sometimes tracking her down and hara.s.sing her so that she had to pick up and disappear. Any attempts at making new friends or lovers had been fruitless as she felt the need to keep them at a distance for their own safety. Finally, she'd reluctantly gone back to Thomas. But not to Jake, who'd still been working with him, their renewed status as allies one in name only. They'd hardly spoken.

And the first job after rejoining Thomas had been Riley Kendall. A Marine, which had immediately suggested this job was a bad deal. That he might be a good man. When Thomas said Riley was a sniper and that this was an indictment of his character, she hadn't failed to notice the smirk that implied the same flaw existed in her. As usual, she'd asked for a reason but hadn't been told much. She used to fight more, but she'd become used to not knowing. And not asking-or at least, not pushing about it-had been a condition Thomas insisted on when accepting her back. And so here she was.

She cast another glance out the back of the house and saw Riley returning empty handed, except for the flashlight. As he entered, she pushed aside misgivings and asked from where she sat on the step, "You find anything?"

"Yeah," he said, breathing more deeply from jogging but not out of breath. "No car key, hotel key, or paperwork. Just the rifle, bag, and bullets. We might learn something from the phone."

"So he's gonna look like a John Doe."

"Maybe. The fingerprints may turn up something."

She pursed her lips. "The prints might be purged in France. They won't know to check another country anyway. They'll a.s.sume he's from the U.S."

Riley nodded. "We need to hide your pa.s.sport."

"Why?"