The new position with Declan was far from comfortable. Her pressed against the icy ground. Him pressed against her. Every muscle in his body was tight and primed.
The shooter in the tree fired more shots, but in the mix of those battering sounds, Eden heard a different shot. Declan no doubt heard it as well, because his attention shifted from the front to the back. He didn’t fire. He just lay there, waiting.
It didn’t take long for Eden to realize the gunman at the back of the property was no longer firing. Unlike the tree shooter. That guy picked up the pace, the shots coming at them nonstop.
Declan and she needed to move, since the bullets were tearing their way through the side of the house. Soon the wooden planks wouldn’t provide any cover for them at all. But they probably shouldn’t move onto the porch, not with the other gunman still out back.
Except he wasn’t shooting.
No one back there was.
Still, Declan didn’t budge. Didn’t return fire, either. Maybe because he was running low on ammunition.
His phone buzzed, and without taking his attention off the gunman, Declan pressed the button to answer it. He didn’t put the call on speaker, but Eden was close enough to hear his brother Wyatt.
“The gunman back here is down,” Wyatt said. “I’m moving closer to check and see if he’s alive. Don’t think he is, though.”
Declan clipped off most of the groan that left his mouth. “Get to him fast, and if there’s an ounce of breath left in him, make him talk. I’m moving my visitor back inside.”
And that was exactly what Declan started to do the moment he ended the call. He fired a shot at the gunman, hauled Eden to her feet and they scrambled across the porch and back into the house. Once they were inside, he pointed to the sofa.
“Get behind that and stay there,” Declan ordered, and there was no mistaking that it was an order. He hurried back to the window, the broken glass crunching beneath his boots.
Eden did get behind the sofa, but she hated that Declan was the one taking the risks here. They were in this mess together, and she only wished she’d been able to figure out a way to diffuse this before it had ever started.
She thought of her sisters. Of the danger they were in, too. They didn’t deserve this. Neither did she. The sins of the father were coming at them with a vengeance.
Maybe.
And maybe this had more to do with Declan.
Maybe this had nothing to do with her at all. Or her father. Maybe there was some other connection between Declan and her that she’d missed. Once they were out of this, she had to beef up security for her sisters and do some more digging, because there were a lot of unanswered questions.
“Hell,” Declan grumbled. He fired out the gaping holes in the window where there’d once been glass. And he cursed again. He shot her a glance from over his shoulder. “Stay here, and this time you’d better do it.”
Eden shook her head. “You’re not going back out there.”
“The gunman’s getting away.”
No, that couldn’t happen. Especially if the other gunman was dead. They needed this one alive so they could question him and learn who’d hired him to do this. And why. If he got away, Eden figured it wouldn’t be the end of it. The guy’s boss would just regroup and launch another attack. And this time, she might not be able to protect her family.
Still, she didn’t want Declan shot, or worse.
She was about to offer backup again, which she knew he’d refuse, but Eden didn’t even get to make the offer. Declan ran out of the room, and a moment later she heard him leave through the back door.
Eden held her breath and tried to pick through the sounds around her—the ticking clock on the mantel, the wind outside, her own body shivering from the cold that was pouring in through the window—and she heard footsteps on the back porch. In case it wasn’t Declan, she turned in that direction. Aimed her gun. And tried to brace herself for whatever might happen.
It was entirely possible that the gunman wasn’t getting away at all but would backtrack and come through that front door. She knew for a fact that it wasn’t locked. Neither door had been when she’d arrived at the place earlier. Obviously, Declan hadn’t been concerned about security.
He would be now.
If he survived this, that is.
The sound of the shot blasting through the air caused her fear to spike. She was pretty sure it hadn’t come from Declan’s gun but rather their attacker’s. And it sounded close. That meant the man likely hadn’t escaped after all, that instead he’d just changed positions so that he could ambush Declan.
“You okay, Declan?” someone shouted. Probably Wyatt.
Declan didn’t answer, and that didn’t help the fear roaring through her. Despite his order for her to stay put, Eden stayed crouched down, but she made her way to the window. It took her several heart-stopping moments before she caught just a glimpse of Declan. He peered around the edge of the house before he snapped back out of sight.
For a good reason.
Another shot. This one took out a chunk of the house right where Declan was.
Eden got her gun ready, and her gaze fired all around in an effort to see what she could of the house and grounds. She still didn’t see the shooter, but judging from the angle of that last shot, he was somewhere near Declan’s black truck. It was certainly large enough to conceal a man and give him decent cover, but the guy might also use it to escape.
She caught some movement from the corner of her eye. Not Declan. Not by the truck, either. This was on the other side of the yard near a cluster of cottonwoods with their winter-bare branches. Someone was behind the trunk of the largest tree, and even though she only got a glimpse of him, she thought it might be Wyatt. She hoped so anyway.
The shots stopped, and quiet settled in. Declan didn’t come out from cover. Neither did the shooter or the other man behind the cottonwood. The deafening shots had been bad enough, but the silence allowed her to think, and the only thing she could think about was just how deadly this had turned and how much worse it could get.
And then the silence shattered.
Declan shouted something, and he bolted out from the side of the house. Not standing up, either. He was on the ground and slid forward on the ice-crusted grass. Aiming low, he fired.
On the other side of the yard, the man behind the cottonwood did the same.
Both shots went in the direction of the truck. But not through it, beneath it. She heard the gunman howl in pain.
“Drop your weapon!” Declan shouted. He got to his feet and, using the trees for cover, he made his way closer to the truck.
It seemed to take an eternity, but the gunman finally limped out while he held on to the truck. Probably because, from what she could tell, he’d been shot in his lower left leg and upper right thigh. He threw his rifle onto the ground and lifted his left hand in the air.
“I need a doctor, quick.” The gunman’s voice was a hoarse growl and didn’t mask the pain.
His injuries didn’t seem to be life threatening, but he was bleeding. Eden didn’t have much sympathy for someone who’d just tried to kill them, but she wanted him alive. And talking.
The gunman was wearing dark clothes and a stocking cap, but she could see his face now. He was heavily muscled and had a wide nose that appeared to have been broken a couple of times. Part of her had hoped she might recognize him. A former disgruntled client, maybe. Or someone associated with her father. But no. He was a stranger.
“Call