The women and Thor turned into a bedroom. Rafe decided to post himself at the door as their rear guard. His back was to the wall, his palm resting on the hilt of the knife. Every sense was heightened.

  Braced to repel an attack, he waited.

  * * *

  Hannah wished she had a chance to sit down and mull over everything that had occurred since breakfast. Not that she wasn’t capable of thinking on her feet. Until today she’d congratulated herself on her decisiveness and quick thinking, and now it occurred to her that much of that pride was misplaced. Then again, she’d never have imagined finding herself in a situation like the one she was experiencing. People were proving that her reserved personality was one of her best traits because the more interaction she had with her companions, not to mention the thugs pursuing them, the more she yearned to withdraw, to nurture the shy, reclusive person she was before and to make everybody else vanish along with her troubles.

  That, of course, was not going to happen, at least not until something else changed. Sadly, she remembered little about her parents other than the fact that they were away often and she’d stayed with her grandparents during those times.

  Trying to picture her mother and failing to produce a clear memory, Hannah gave up and looked to Lucy. Not only had the older woman disappeared into the bedroom closet, she was tossing things out onto the carpeted floor.

  One black backpack landed with a clunking sound. Lucy straightened and pointed at it. “Pad that with extra clothing so it doesn’t rattle.”

  “Mine or yours?”

  “Go get some of yours from your room,” Lucy said. “Warm clothes and shirts you can layer if the weather changes. I can handle this by myself. And take your dog with you.”

  What Hannah really wanted to do was pitch a temper tantrum and refuse to aid anything illegal. That reasoning almost made her laugh aloud. Since her actions at the prison had started all this, she figured she owed the others at least a modicum of cooperation, particularly with erstwhile assassins prowling around the premises.

  Startled to find a man standing like a statue right outside the bedroom door, Hannah started to swing the heavy pack at him, then recognized Rafe just in time to stop. Her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. At her side, Thor panted happily, tail wagging.

  She faced Rafe. “What are you trying to do, scare me to death?”

  “Nope. Watching your backs.”

  “Did Gram tell you to do that?”

  “No, my training did. We need to operate as if there is danger around every corner, which may very well be true. I suggest you save your indignation for a better time and start thinking the way your grandmother and I do. It’ll keep you alive longer.”

  “God gave me life and He will look after me, especially if I keep His commandments.”

  “I agree, to a point,” Rafe said. “He also allows us to make our own mistakes and with those errors in judgment come consequences. Being a Christian doesn’t mean we’ll never have trials, never be disappointed. It means we won’t have to face them alone.”

  “Right now,” Hannah said, making a face at him, “I’d settle for all the alone time I could get.”

  “Away from people, maybe. Don’t turn your back on your faith. Please.”

  “What makes you think I’d ever do that?”

  “It happens, okay. I almost made that mistake when Andy’s daughter was kidnapped and he was shot. I asked plenty of questions, but in the end I chose to trust the Lord enough to agree to go undercover at Lyell.”

  “That whole story is true? For real?”

  “For real.”

  Reading unspoken confirmation in his dark eyes, Hannah was finally able to believe him. Relief flowed through her as if she’d been locked in a prison of her mind and had suddenly been released.

  She sighed noisily. “Okay. One thing at a time.” She held up the pack. “Gram wants me to pad this with some of my clothes so it doesn’t make noise.”

  “Where are they?”

  Hannah pointed. “Over there. We only have two bedrooms.”

  “Do you always close the doors when you leave?”

  “No, I...” Scowling, Hannah did a double take. “No. We usually leave the interior doors open.” Before she finished her sentence, Rafe had withdrawn the filet knife, pushed her aside and was approaching the closed bedroom.

  “Thor would have alerted me if there was anybody in there,” she said.

  “Humor me.”

  Moments before, she would have argued. Something had changed. It was subtle enough to miss had she not been so tuned in to the situation. To him. Viewing him through new eyes she let herself appreciate his courage as well as the way he looked with that dark, wavy hair and expressive brown eyes.

  The first time she’d met him, in the prison, she’d made a personal assessment that was now being expanded at light speed. Rafe McDowell had been ruggedly handsome in the training class, yet she’d refused to admire him as a man, choosing to classify him on the level of her arch nemesis, Deuce Fleming. Now she was seeing a handsome, concerned, wildly brave hero who was risking his life to save others, including her. That viewpoint made all the difference.

  A blush warmed her cheeks. Thor had been way ahead of her in assessing Rafe’s character, hadn’t he? The enormous shepherd had sensed the good man beneath the hardened persona and had accepted him within minutes of their meeting. As a professional dog trainer she knew she should have heeded the animal’s instincts then and there. Perhaps in the deep recesses of her brain she had, at least enough to bring him to meet Gram.

  Was that why she’d given in and had taken him with her to the church? Hannah wondered. Had she been fooling herself about Rafe to keep from liking him even a little?

  Watching him ease open the door and step through, Hannah felt a surge of warmth, of concern, that merely added to her appreciation of the man.

  Aloud, she whispered, “Be careful.” In her mind she prayed, “Jesus, help us all.”

  Rafe moved out of sight. There was a crack, then a thud.

  The door swung in and a shadowy figure emerged, fleeing.

  Thor broke away from Hannah and barreled down the hallway chasing someone dressed all in black. Out of sight, a door slammed so hard it shook the window panes.

  Hannah entered the bedroom in time to see Rafe levering himself up off the floor. When he stood, however, he was clearly lacking balance.

  “I took a swipe at him. Might have caught his arm. I’m not sure.” Staggering, he lunged toward the doorway and caught himself with one hand on the jamb. “Which way did he go?”

  “Thor chased him off.” Hannah proceeded to grab clothing and stuff it into the pack.

  “We have to stop him before he alerts the others.”

  “Too late for that,” Hannah said, relieved to see the K-9 returning, tail wagging, tongue lolling. “Looks like the guy got away.” She dropped to one knee and hugged the big dog’s thick neck ruff, checking for hidden injuries as she said, “You were wonderful.”

  Rafe’s “Just doing my job” struck her as terribly funny, and although she tried to keep from giggling, she failed. Once she started it was impossible to stop. Soon, she was laughing so hysterically it drew Lucy over at a run.

  She knelt beside Hannah and Thor. “What is it? What happened?”

  Wiping away tears and struggling to catch her breath, Hannah finally gestured toward Rafe and managed to explain, “When I said ‘you were wonderful,’ I was talking to the dog.”

  NINE

  Rafe insisted, “I knew that,” but both women were enjoying laughing at his expense so much that neither seemed to hear. Rather than belabor the point he checked his head, feeling the rising lump, and was relieved there was no bleeding.

  “If either of you care, one of the gang conked me, but I’m okay,” he said.

  Lucy regained her composure first, sniffling and wiping her face with her hands. “Good to hear.”

  “That guy ran off, thanks to the dog. I think we’d better get a move on.”

  “When you’re right, you’re right,” Lucy said. She pointed at Hannah who was still chortling and brushing away tears. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “How? We left your car in the woods.”

  “We left one car in the woods. Who says that’s all I have?”

  Rafe slipped his arm around Hannah’s shoulders to guide her through the door and also to temporarily prop himself up. His head was clearing quickly but he didn’t want to slow their escape. At the last second he remembered the backpack and grabbed it by one of the shoulder straps.

  “You hid a whole car for an emergency?” he asked.

  “Of course not. That would be overkill. I just never sold my late husband’s wheels. There’s a pristine Dodge Charger under a tarp in the garage.”

  Picturing the sporty car, Rafe arched a brow, discovered that it made his head injury hurt more and schooled his features. “I assume it will hold three.”

  “Four,” Hannah said, ducking out from under Rafe’s arm and tugging on Thor’s leash to keep him close.

  If the older woman hadn’t been grinning when she turned to look at him he would have worried when she said, “If we’re short on room, we can stuff the felon in the trunk.”

  “As long as you don’t try to put Thor in there,” Hannah quipped back, also smiling.

  Rafe was starting to wonder what kind of unstable family he’d gotten himself involved with until he recalled the common stress relief habit of many first responders after a particularly difficult assignment. They called it gallows humor, the darkly funny comments that not only helped them release tension but also distracted their wounded minds from the reality they dealt with on an almost daily basis. He wasn’t particularly surprised to hear Lucy resorting to such wry humor, but he was a bit unsettled when Hannah joined in so effortlessly.

  “I’ll hold the beast on my lap if I need to,” Rafe said, joining the spirit of the conversation. “At least he likes me.”

  Ahead, Lucy held up a hand, signaling a stop before easing open the side exit off the kitchen. Rafe saw her listening intently, as was he. The house and garage seemed deserted except for their little party. Nevertheless, he saw Lucy draw her gun, signal once more, then step down into the darkness.

  The irrational urge to accompany her hit Rafe. He knew the woman was a pro and on her own turf so she’d be safer than anywhere else, yet he still wanted to cover her back. That was part of his training, of course, and the reason why partners were so important. They could be the difference between life and death.

  Thoughts of poor Andy and his missing teenage daughter dumped Rafe’s mood lower than the cellar they’d used to escape. It wasn’t just a job for him. Not anymore. It was penance. A calling beyond anything else. He’d failed Andy and his daughter, Kristy, and he intended to make things right again, one way or another.

  His problem now was the added responsibility for two civilians who were anything but normal, and who had ended up swimming in the same pool of hungry sharks where he was trapped. In retrospect he couldn’t see any way he could have changed previous circumstances to avoid the mess they were in, yet he kept thinking, wondering, imagining a different scenario.

  If he’d been positive the women would be safe in police custody he’d have told them to turn themselves in. Unfortunately, he wasn’t convinced that that was the best course of action. Truth to tell, he didn’t know what was.

  Lucy reappeared out of the dimness, startling Hannah enough to make her jump and leading Rafe to grasp her shoulders. When she didn’t object he kept hold for extra seconds before releasing her.

  “You,” Lucy said, pointing to him, “Go back to the room I was in and bring the two duffle bags I left on the floor. I’ll have the trunk open for you to stow them.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you get in as fast as you can. Drag your feet and we’ll leave you behind. Got that?”

  “Affirmative,” Rafe said, slipping into official jargon. He wanted to ask for her assurance she wasn’t planning to ditch him regardless but thought better of it. She could have chosen plenty of other ways to get rid of him if she’d wanted to, yet she’d not only kept him with them, she’d provided a weapon.

  He moved swiftly and stealthily through the silent home, located the bags she’d readied and returned with them. A shiny black Charger sat in the rear of the garage, waiting. An overhead door began to rise. Rafe expected the car’s powerful motor to roar as soon as he’d loaded the trunk and slammed the lid. Instead, he heard the starter turning over repeatedly, as if the battery was not quite powerful enough to start the engine.

  Holding his breath as he dove through the door into the rear seat he sent up a silent prayer for success. Once the car was running its generator would recharge the battery. The key was that first cough, that first catch after being left idle for so long.

  Lucy tried again, rested a moment, then turned the key once more. The car sputtered, then roared. She raced the engine. Black smoke billowed from the rear.

  Looking back over the trunk lid, Rafe saw movement. People? Yes! “Goose it!” he shouted, realizing that Lucy was already doing just that. Tires squealed as they spun and slipped on the cement floor.

  As the Charger fishtailed out of the garage and straightened in the long driveway, the rear window shattered into a thousand tiny shards.

  Rafe grabbed Thor without thinking and pushed him down in the seat to protect them both.

  Even a low growl was not enough to cause him to let go.

  From the front he heard Hannah shout, “Down,” and felt the K-9 drop below him. Before he had a chance to thank her she was climbing over the center console into the back seat with him and the dog.

  “I’ll take care of him,” Hannah shouted. “Get up front with Gram where you can help her.”

  It occurred to Rafe to ask how he could hope to help while they were fleeing in a speeding car. Instead, he obeyed. His long legs gave him trouble but he managed to finally get squared away and slide down into the bucket seat.

  There was no doubt that Lucy was a master at defensive driving. He was thankful for that since they seemed to have eluded the assassins.

  “How can I help?” Rafe was nearly yelling.

  “Center console,” Lucy shot back. “In the bottom.”

  Lifting the lid and reaching deep, Rafe felt the hard, cold metal of another gun. “You want me to...?”

  “Yes. I can’t very well drive and shoot at the same time.” Inclining her head she indicated the rear seat. “Hannah is a crack shot, but I’m not sure she’s up to firing at a human target.”

  “And you think I am?”

  “I know you are,” the older woman said. “I saw it in your eyes before you said a word to me back at the church.”

  He saw no reason to argue. She was right. As much as he loathed the idea of harming anyone he was trained to make that decision when he must. It was nothing to be proud of. It was simply a fact. Sometimes even those sworn to uphold the law had to employ deadly force in the course of their duties.

  After removing the firearm from the console he examined it, extracted the clip to make sure it was fully loaded, then reassembled the gun and cocked it. “Ready.”

  “I figured you would be,” Lucy said, grimacing. “You’re not my first choice for a partner but you’ll have to do.”

  Remembering his mistaken reply to Hannah back at the house, Rafe smiled wryly. “I should be your first choice. Don’t forget. Hannah says I’m wonderful.”

  From the back seat came a loud, clear, “Hah!”

  * * *

  As far as Hannah was concerned it was no longer necessary to visit the wounded state trooper in the hospital to prove Rafe’s backstory. However, since Gram was driving and had practically deputized him by giving him a gun, she figured she might as well go with the flow, so to speak.

  Once they had reached busier streets in downtown St. Louis Lucy had begun to drive more normally. Hannah’s nerves insisted she keep watching the traffic behind them, to no avail. They weren’t being followed. Best of all, whoever had been on their tail would have no idea where they were headed or when they’d surface next so they couldn’t be setting up an ambush.

  Thoughts like those reminded Hannah of the predictable plots of old Western movies. Too bad she couldn’t rewind reality the way you could a video recording.

  Intent on soothing the frightened shepherd, she stroked his fur while staring out the car windows. Cold air was whooshing in through the broken rear glass, making her glad she’d grabbed a hoodie as part of her getaway wardrobe. As soon as they stopped she planned to fish it out of the pack. In the meantime, she warmed herself by cuddling Thor.

  In the front seat, Rafe was pivoting to keep scanning their surroundings. Hannah met his gaze when it landed on her. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Smiling, he turned away. “I’m just glad your furry pal didn’t bite me when I shoved him down to keep him from getting shot.”

  “I think he’s decided you’re one of the good guys.”

  “What about you?” Rafe asked. “Have you decided that, too.”

  “The jury’s still out, but I have to say you’ve been consistent. And if Gram trusts you, I guess I do, too.”

  “You don’t make up your own mind about things like that?”

  “I used to,” Hannah said, “before I made a big mistake and got too friendly with the men in my prison class.”

  “Not everybody is like Deuce Fleming,” Rafe reminded her.

  Lucy had been staying out of their conversation until then. “Enough are to make me leery. In this case, however, I’m glad it’s all turning out this way. I’ve waited years to even the score for my family.”