Page 86 of Shared By the Mountain Men Triplets

“Lock it,” Rhett barks, and when I hear the deadbolt slide home, I let out a breath.

“North, west, southwest,” Cade reports. “Four men, maybe more.”

Fuck and fuck. This is more than a probe. This is Turner done waiting.

“Mouth, west,” Rhett says. “Smoke, north. I have southeast.”

We move without answering.

The cabin is dark. All the windows are covered except for narrow firing gaps Cade cut and taped during yesterday’s repairs. He walked the property for hours after they came the first time. He thought he’d closed all the gaps, but apparently, Turner’s got men good enough to findsomething he missed.

I take the kitchen angle, shoulder against the wall, rifle raised toward the west treeline. The woodpile’s out there, between here and the pines. Beyond it, everything’s in shadow.

A shot punches through the window, snapping the glass inward. I drop low as the round buries itself in the cabinet behind me with a hard crack.

I aim where the muzzle flash bloomed and fire one round, then another. A shape jerks behind the woodpile and disappears.

Rhett fires three shots from the front window, and Cade fires from the north side a second later.

Rounds chew through the wall near the kitchen window, and wood splinters against my cheek. A pan hits the floor with a loud metallic crash.

I track movement between two pines and fire again. “West contact,” I report.

“North two,” Cade answers.

“Southeast active,” Rhett says. “Hold positions.”

Another shot hits the front porch.

These aren’t amateurs. They’re using angles and pressing from three directions, forcing us to divide our attention.

Turner’s likely spending serious money to solve his Wren problem, and the thought turns my blood to ice.

“One shifting toward rear wall,” Cade’s voice says.

Rear wall. Safe room side.I leave the kitchen before Rhett can tell me not to.

“Boone,” he snaps.

“Covering Wren.”

He doesn’t argue, and that’s worse than if he had.

I move fast and low down the back hall. The safe room door is shut with no sound from inside. Good girl.

A shadow crosses the narrow utility window at the end of the hall, and I fire before his weapon clears the frame.

The window explodes and the man outside fires back.

Pain sears across my left side, white hot. Shallow, but mean as hell.

I hit the wall with my shoulder, bite down on a curse, and keep the rifle up.

“Update?” Wren’s voice is shaky and near tears, but still clear through the radio.

“I’m good,” I answer as blood runs beneath my shirt.

It’s not enough to stop me. Not even close.