Second Honeymoon

Chapter 89

I WASN’T SURE which sound I heard first, the window shattering or the shots being fired. But I was damn sure I felt the bullet that grazed my shoulder.

“Down!” I yelled. “Down, Sarah!”

My eyes had adjusted barely enough to see the outline of Sarah hitting the floor with me as more bullets—one, two, three—came through the window, the shards of glass landing all over us. How the hell is this happening?

I reached for my Glock and could hear Sarah doing the same. Meanwhile, the shots outside had stopped. Was it over? Or just intermission?

I whispered to Sarah. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You?”

“Yeah. One nicked me, that’s all.”

“You sure?”

I pressed my palm against my shoulder. There’s bleeding and then there’s bleeding. Luckily, it was the former.

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Window or door; which one you got?” As in, which one do you want to cover?

“Door,” she said.

I raised my arms toward the window, locking both elbows. The only other window, a tiny one, was in the bedroom, but we were clear of it.

“What’s he got? M16?” I asked. It was my best guess, given the three-round bursts and slightly higher pitch of the weapon.

“That or an M4 carbine,” she said. “Tough to tell, given the distance.”

“At least forty yards.”

“Maybe more,” she said.

“And he cuts the power first?”

“Goggles,” we said in unison. The shooter had to be wearing night-vision goggles.

“Shit, where’s that flashlight?” I asked. We had two of them in the cabin. But where were they?

“More important,” said Sarah, “where is everybody?”

She was right. Where was our backup, the four agents we had around the perimeter? Even with the shooter behind them, they still should’ve located him by now.

Unless he got to them first.

No. No way. Not all four agents.

Sure enough, the two-way radio at my waist suddenly crackled with static. “Anyone hit?” came a hushed voice.

I grabbed the radio, whispering back. “We’re good so far,” I said. “He must be wearing—”

“Yeah, goggles,” said the agent. “Moving in with the same. Two to a side.”

I’d lost track of who was on what shift around the cabin. At least this guy sounded experienced.

“Which one is he?” I asked Sarah.

“Carver,” she reminded me. “Agent Carver.”

Cavalry was more like it.