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The door to the basement was in a small hallway alcove that shared the door to the garage and the back door, leading to a small patio with outdoor furniture covered in snow.
They hadn’t spoken Pike’s name since Hannah had told him what the monster had done to her and her second child. Just the thought of Pike filled him with outrage, loathing, and disgust.
He hated the fact that he hadn’t seen Pike’s body.
The hole in the ice haunted his thoughts, invaded his nightmares. Swallowed his certainty.
After they’d driven Pike’s snowmobile off the bridge, Liam had wanted to scale the embankment and hunt for that maniac until he’d found his body and made 100 percent sure.
Though it defied his training and soldier’s instinct, he coul...
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He wouldn’t leave Hannah alone without the Great Pyrenees there to guard her. In addition, he’d found a whistle in the garage which she wore around her neck beneath her sweater.
He made sure never to stray out of range, though he might have to in order to find a snowmobile.
The dog had gone out exploring a few hours each of the last several days. He always came back covered in snow, dirt, and burs, tired but happy.
As much as Liam didn’t want to admit it, these last nine days had been a godsend for both Hannah and Ghost. And maybe for Liam, too. A vital break from the constant chaos and threat of death always nipping at their heels. A chance to regroup, to heal.
He watched her, serene and radiant and full of a deep, abandoned joy.
Joy wasn’t an emotion he had much experience with. Love, either.
Liam took the baby easily, cradling the small human being in the crook of his arm. It hadn’t always been that way. The first time Hannah had asked him to hold her, he’d blanched.
There was nothing that could prepare you for bringing another life into the world. No amount of training or discipline that could gird a man against the rush of emotion—and sense of responsibility—that he felt every time he laid eyes upon little Charlotte Rose.
Something long frozen had begun to melt inside him. He didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to fight it anymore.
He cradled Hannah’s child in his arms and felt that fierce protectiveness again. And not just protectiveness. Tenderness. May...
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In this moment, it felt like the three of them were the only people left alive in the whole damn world.
“Hannah,” he started, feeling incredibly foolish but bumbling ahead all the same. “I need to tell you—”
He adjusted Charlotte in his arm and returned to the kitchen, pausing by the back door to study the yard again. He felt something.
the feeling of being watched.
He looked harder. Something snagged the corner of his eye. A glint in the trees twenty-five yards to the left of the house. The flash of binocular lenses reflecting off the snow.
Hannah immediately went to him and held her arms out for the baby. Liam handed Charlotte to her and seized the Bushmaster AR-15 leaning against the wall next to the back door.
Darkness opened up inside him. A black rage sprouted in his chest, his whole body thrumming with revulsion.
If this was an attempt to get him to abandon his training and rush headlong into a trap, Pik...
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“Ghost!” Liam commanded. “Stay with Hannah.”
Liam hesitated. He felt conflicted to his very core. He did not want to leave her. Every instinct warred against it. She was his vulnerability. It put him between a rock and a hard place—for he needed to both protect Hannah and kill Pike.
“When I come back, I’ll whistle ‘Happy Birthday.’ Shoot anyone else. Don’t hesitate.”
She nodded, her features tight. “You’ll come back.” “I will.”
“Use your whistle if you need me,” Liam said. “Where’s your .45?” She shifted, holding Charlotte with one hand, and pulled the gun out of her sweatpants’ pocket. “It’s loaded. Round in the chamber, like you taught me.”
“That never leaves your hand.” Her expression hardened. “I know.”
He believed that Pike was ahead of him; he’d never see him sneaking up from behind.
Pike had no sense of fairness, no honor. As soon as he saw the man, he intended to shoot him in the back.
A sound ahead of him. Fifteen, twenty feet. Directly ahead? Or a little west?
A flicker of unease curdled through him. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to. He didn’t like it.
Another noise, this time behind him. A soft squeak, like careful footsteps sinking into the snow.
He sensed movement to his left. Then ahead. He didn’t hear a sound. He didn’t see a thing.
Just his overactive mind playing tricks on him. This brutal cold getting into his head.
Maybe the soldier was smarter than he’d anticipated. More wily and cunning.
Maybe Pike was no longer the only one playing the game.
Something was off. Nothing he could put a finger on, just a gut feeling.
His apprehension transformed into something else—an alien feeling, but one he still recognized, an instinct every mammal possessed, even him.