“What colors are you thinking about?”
Decisions that had seemed impossible yesterday became clear. “I like a soft beige with dark gold and brown granite countertops.”
“And in the bedroom?”
“Blue,” she said.
“Like the Colorado skies you grew up with.”
He knew her so well. At this time of the year, in early November, they usually took a ski vacation in Colorado, where her parents had a vacation cabin. “I don’t mind Austin, but I love my mountains.”
“Tell me about this bar where you’re working.”
“Should I recite the ninety-nine varieties of beer?”
“Please don’t.”
Their conversation was cozy and natural and deliberately avoided dangerous topics. She felt as if she was walking through a minefield. They talked until they pulled up to the curb outside the one-story, redbrick bungalow with shrubs under the windows and a live oak in the front yard. The grass was a little raggedy in winter.
“It’s even cuter than I remembered,” Nick said as he unfastened his seat belt.
“Whoa,” Phillips said. “My orders are for you to stay in the vehicle while I escort Sidney inside.”
“You’re going to have to hog-tie me to keep me from going into my own house.” Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Hand in hand, they walked up the sidewalk together. Being separated from him again would be hard, but she was willing to put up with a few days now that she knew he was safe. “You’ll call me, won’t you?”
“Every day.”
“I wish you could stay here.”
“Me, too.”
She noticed that the porch lamp was dark. She thought she’d turned it on before she’d left for work. The bulb must have burned out. But there were two bulbs in the fixture. What were the odds of both burning out at the same time? “I must have forgotten to turn on the porch lamp.”
As she reached toward the lock with her key, the front door yanked inward. A barrage of gunfire erupted.
Before the bullets flew, Nick had suspected trouble. His beautiful, brilliant Sidney never forgot anything, especially not the locking-up procedures when she left the house. She knew to leave a light burning.
His right arm flung around her slender waist. He scooped her off her feet and pulled her against him as he flattened his back against the brick wall beside the front door. Bullets tore through the opened door and cut into the night.
Still holding Sidney, he stepped off the concrete stoop and ducked into the space between the shrubbery and the red brick wall. “Stay down,” he said as he drew a Glock 9 from his ankle holster. He fired two shots toward the open door to let the intruders know he was armed.
It had taken a lot of negotiation to convince Hawthorne to allow him to carry a firearm, and his talk had been worth every minute. The gun felt good in his hand. When it came to survival, Nick trusted himself more than anyone else.
Special Agent Phillips and the other Fed who had been the driver were out of the vehicle and moving toward them.
“You good?” Phillips called out.
Nick gave him a silent okay signal and then motioned him toward the live oak at the far left side of the front yard. He assumed the two agents would know enough to avoid the sight line from the front window. After he turned Sidney over to their protection, he’d go back to the house and catch the sons of bitches who set up this ambush. Shielding her with his body, he crept under the window ledge toward the corner of the house.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
“I’m taking you to Phillips. He’ll get you to safety.”
She balked. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
He hadn’t expected resistance. “It’s better if you’re out of the way.”
“Not if I’m armed. I can help.”
His attitude shifted from mild surprise to downright shock. Six months ago, Sidney hadn’t known how to handle a weapon.
A fresh blast of gunfire exploded behind them. Shards of glass from the shattered front window rained over them. He looked down at the delicate, pale oval of her face. Her jaw was set. Her clear blue eyes showed no fear.
“You don’t know how to shoot,” he said.
“I learned,” she said, cool as ice. “It’s not a difficult skill, and I have excellent hand-eye coordination.”
“Why?”
“I thought I might have to go to Tiquanna and rescue you. Learning to handle weaponry seemed prudent.”
The idea of Sidney charging into the palace of a Third World dictator gave him pause, but he didn’t dismiss the notion. She was a remarkable woman. “For now, let’s do it my way.”
“I’m tired of people telling me what to do,” she said, “and that includes you, Nick. I’m part of this operation.”
“I won’t let you risk your life.”
“Ditto.”
“We can’t stay where we are.” He nudged her forward. “Stay low and run toward the live oak where Phillips and the other agent are waiting. I’ll cover you.”
“And you’ll follow me,” she said. “Promise that you’ll be right behind me. If you aren’t, I’ll come back for you.”
“Just go.”
As she stepped out from the shrubbery, he dodged to the right and fired into the house through the shattered front window. From the corner of his eye, he saw her make it to the tree. Though he would have preferred heading to the rear of the house, he ran behind her.
Sheltered by the shade tree, Nick took command. “Phillips, you stay here and keep them pinned down. I’ll go around to the back door and do the same. I want to take these guys alive.”
“I assume that Special Agent Phillips has already called for backup,” Sidney said, again surprising him with her savvy comprehension of a dangerous situation. “If we keep the gunmen contained in the house until the others arrive, we’ll have the manpower to take them.”
Phillips gaped at her, and then stared at Nick. “What the hell’s going on with y’all?”
Nick didn’t have time to explain. “Get her to safety.”
“I can help,” she said.
