down halfway up a hill outside.
Kit’s curses stopped. The sudden silence was broken by the crack of shattering wood. What the hell had the woman done now? But Kit would have to wait until he checked out the house.
Quickly, he scanned the courtyard. There was no sign of the last intruder or any accomplices. Standing motionless, he feathered his senses through the darkness in search of Cruz’s energy trail.
Nothing even close. Not here or in any of the other rooms.
At least one worry was dispensed with. When he crossed the first floor hallway, he heard Kit’s urgent shouting from the closet. He figured she’d be pretty surprised to see him after all this time, but no matter. Surprise, he could deal with.
Outside the closet, he pulled the chair away from the door, which immediately shot open against his hands. She came out fighting—aimed a savage left hook at his face, rammed something heavy into his stomach, then shot past him toward the door.
Hell.
Wolfe sighed, following her down the dark hallway. A barrage of metal pots caught him at the far side of the kitchen. He ducked and nearly tripped on a bench she’d overturned near the door.
When Wolfe stepped over the bench, the dogs were positioned around his feet. Diesel rammed his leg, forcing him to jump sideways to avoid stepping on Baby and Sundance.
When he again looked up, there was a rifle pointed at his forehead.
“Hands up where I can see them.”
Wolfe cursed silently, glaring at the dogs. He hadn’t expected that last stunt by Diesel, which was pretty damned amazing.
In any case, it was time to cool her down before she shot him.
“Lower the Winchester. It’s me, Kit. It’s Wolfe.”
The rifle stayed right where it was. “Someone breaks my window and invades my house, he’s going to regret it.” The kitchen was dark and Wolfe realized she still hadn’t seen his face.
“I had some leave and Trace told me to drop by and look in on you. Sorry I drove up from town without calling first, but I never figured I’d get a rifle in my face for forgetting my manners.”
In the darkness, she reached back to run her hand along the wall. “When I count to three, I expect you to be sitting in the chair next to your right hand. Meanwhile, if I see anything I don’t like, I’m going to fire. Are we clear on that?”
Wolfe’s lips twitched. She had spirit to burn, his little Katharine. Except she wasn’t little anymore, and those long legs of hers looked damn good under her nightshirt.
Slowly Wolfe raised his hands in the air, just the way she’d ordered. He wasn’t about to give her a reason to shoot him. “Hell, Kit, don’t you recognize me? Your brother was supposed to call and let you know I was coming. It’s Wolfe.”
She stopped moving. Wolfe thought he heard her breath catch.
She blew out an angry breath. “Shut up and keep your hands in the air.”
In the dark he listened to her stalk toward him. “Whatever you say. But all you have to do is turn on the lights and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
“I just tried the lights, and they’re out. But you’d know that because you turned off the power before you broke in here.”
So Einstein had been smarter than he looked, tackling Kit’s electricity. “There’s a penlight in my pocket,” Wolfe said quietly. “Top right side of my jacket. Pull it out and see for yourself that I’m not lying.”
“And let you jump me? No way. You’re staying right there, and I’m staying right here with my rifle. I just called the state police on my cell phone. They should be here shortly.”
Police were the last thing Wolfe needed. He moved away, slipping around the corner beyond the closet.
“Where are you going?”
Wolfe heard her stumble, her legs striking an overturned chair.
He didn’t answer, moving silently through the darkness, staying low as he circled the counter. Then he stepped in fast, pivoted and knocked the rifle from her grip.
All in all she had put up a pretty good defense, but Wolfe was still furious. Trace should have installed an adequate security system before he left, damn it. He should also have taught Kit a fallback plan in case of an attack. She was living miles away from neighbors or police and she was pinned against the counter, the rifle behind her on the floor. Anyone else could have done some real damage to her.
Wolfe felt the dogs close in. Baby pressed against his leg, whining, and Diesel nuzzled his thigh.
“What are you doing to my dogs?” Kit said sharply.
Typical, Wolfe thought. Pinned to the counter, she worried about the dogs, not her own safety.
“Nothing. Stop fighting and I’ll pull out my light so you can see my face.” Wolfe found his penlight and raised it slowly, shining it up at his head.
She winced in the sudden blue-white beam, her eyes tracking to his face. Her breath caught. “Wolfe?”
“I’m sure as hell not the Avon lady.”
“You should have said something sooner.” Her voice sounded unsteady. “I could have shot you.”
“Next time I’ll be sure to send a telegram and flowers,” he muttered.
Her voice was tense. “Why are you here? It’s not Trace, is it? He hasn’t been shot or anything…?”
“Trace is just fine.”
Her breath hissed out slowly. “Then why—”
“He wanted me to see how things were going here.” The lie slid smoothly off Wolfe’s lips. “So here I am.”
She leaned back, trying to get a better look at his face. “I don’t believe you. Trace would have told me if you were coming.” She cleared her throat. “Do you mind? You’re flattening me against this counter.”
Wolfe silently cursed and moved a few inches back. “Reflex. Sorry.”
“Why did you lock me in that closet? And who broke my window?”
“We can discuss it later. Let’s get your power back on first.”
She shoved against him, her body brushing him from knee to chest. When she turned her head, her lips were only inches away.
Concentration deserted Wolfe for a moment. With an effort he managed to focus again. “Where’s your fuse box?” he asked gruffly. He sure as hell knew where his was.
She didn’t answer, her cheeks touched with color as he backed out of reach.
“Well?”
“Beside the kitchen door.” Her
