He shoved the gun into his waistband, pulling his shirt loose to hang over it so it wouldn’t be seen.
Pretty stupid, he realized later, since they walked back out the front door without any of the caution they’d used going in. He carried one box, and Kate carried the other. Their hands were occupied. Casper jogged out the door ahead of them.
Then a gun went off, the sound cracking from somewhere between the trees.
And before Hunter could even get it together to draw his own weapon, Kate went down.
CHAPTER 27
Hunter got Kate back through the door. He hollered for Casper.
His dog was barking somewhere in the yard. Hunter yelled for him again.
Another shot hit the siding on the front of the house. Hunter flinched and dragged Kate farther along the slate of the entrance hallway. They got to the rear of the foyer, to where he could see the front door, but they were partially obscured by the stairwell.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”
She was not okay. Blood was everywhere, a long streak on the floor, a spreading stain on her jeans, a lengthy smear along his forearm.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
He pulled his sweatshirt off and balled it up. “Where are you hit?”
“Hip,” she said, and he heard the strain in her voice. “I think it’s just a flesh wound.”
He couldn’t tell—too much blood. He shoved the sweatshirt where most of it was. He would totally give anything for Hannah to walk through the door right now.
Another gunshot. Hunter jumped. Somewhere outside, Casper yelped, then whined.
Hunter struggled to position Kate more upright, to get her heart above the wound. “Casper!” he shouted. “Hierr!”
Then he held his breath. Kate held hers.
He heard nothing.
“Damn it!” he cried. “Casper! Hierr!”
Nothing.
“Casper!” His voice was breaking.
“Cops,” said Kate. It sounded like she was speaking through clenched teeth. “Call the cops.”
He could barely get the phone out of his pocket. His fingers were sticky with her blood and his brain wouldn’t stop thinking of Casper bleeding just like this, somewhere in the yard.
The touch screen didn’t want to work and his breath wouldn’t stop hitching.
“Casper!” he yelled again, and he heard the desperation in his own voice. He was ready to punch a hole in the floor.
Finally, the phone gave in to his panicked swipes. He dialed 911.
The line rang forever.
Someone was out there shooting. Calla? Silver? He had no idea.
The car was at least thirty feet from the front door, and Kate couldn’t walk. It wasn’t like this person was firing a musket. Hunter couldn’t exactly wait around for a reload so he could carry her to the jeep and back down the driveway.
And he couldn’t leave Casper.
Casper.
Casper. Casper. Casper.
The dog had been licking his hands a minute ago, and now he was—
Stop.
He had to stop. He had to focus. Or none of them would make it out of this alive.
Finally an operator picked up. “Nine-one-one emergency, do you need police, fire, or ambulance?”
All the words fell out of Hunter’s mouth in a rush. He sounded about twelve years old.
It wasn’t until he started speaking that he realized he was crying.
“Someone’s shooting at us. I need the police. I need—”
The front door started to move.
Hunter dropped the phone and had the gun in his hand.
He drew back the hammer. “Freeze or I’ll shoot.”
In that instant, he meant it. If that door moved half an inch, he was pulling the trigger.
The door didn’t move. Nothing moved. Hunter was acutely aware of his breath echoing in the air around him, of Kate’s blood, a warmth that was slowly seeping into his own jeans.
The shooter’s gun went off, splintering the door and sending a round into the floor at Hunter’s feet.
He swore and jerked Kate back, trying to pull her toward the kitchen and keep his gun pointed at the same time. She cried out.
Then she said, “The address. Say the address.”
His phone was on the floor five feet away, but the display was lit up. The call was still live.
“Chautauga,” he called. He didn’t know the street number.
“Blue house at the end of Chautauga Court. Just off Ritchie—”
Another shot came through the door.
It killed his phone.
Hunter fired back. It hit the upper left quadrant of the door and took out a good chunk of wood.
But he didn’t hear anything. Kate was shaking against him.
Hell, he was probably shaking against her. His pulse was a thunderous rush in his ears, and his mouth had gone completely dry.