Page 57 of Guilty as Sin

She said, “Drive straight up onto the lawn. Right up so you’re in front of the living room. Light it up.”

He was already going, and she had her bag in her lap. She didn’t pull out the purse gun, either. It was a larger revolver, probably the one that had been in her thigh holster.

He pulled to a stop where she’d said, the beams on high, shining into the house. The curtains were drawn, but it would help. She had her hand on the door handle, and he grabbed her arm and said, “No.”

She yanked against his hold, but he didn’t let her go. “Yes,” she said. “It’s my house.”

“I’m trained for this,” he said. “You’re not.”

“I’m—” she said, then stopped. He let go of her, reached for the Glock in his ankle holster, and said, “I’ll let you know when it’s clear.”

“No,” she said. “I’ll go with you. You go left, I go right. I’ve got the kitchen, you’re up the stairs. One door up there, to the bathroom. Dressing room’s this side of the bedroom. Entrance is a curtain, but there’s plenty of room to hide in there.”

“Back door?” he asked.

“Side door. Kitchen.” She had her keys out, understanding what he meant. That the lit-up living room meant that anyone in the house would expect them to come in the front. “I’m on your six.”

He was out of the truck as her words registered, Glock in one hand, Maglite in his hand but not switched on. No sense advertising your position. He motioned Tobias with a hand. The dog leaped over the side of the truck and took up a position behind Lily.

It didn’t matter what Lily’s story was. Jace still hated that she was here, and he couldn’t stop her. He moved in, squinting against the pelting rain, stepped to one side when they reached the kitchen door, and waited while she unlocked it. She handed the keys to him, and he realized why. She had no pockets. He stuck the bunch into his own pocket and held up a hand, fingers spread, hoping she’d understand him, and counted down.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

He went in fast and low, and sensed her moving to his right. Kitchen, and she had it. He pressed himself against the arched entrance to the living room and checked it out. Enough light from the headlights to make out shapes. Nothing moving. Tobias moved at his side like a ghost, alert but not alarmed, and Jace let out a breath. If someone were down here, the dog would know.

“Clear.” He heard the word, soft and low, from behind him.

“Going up,” he said in the same tone, and didn’t wait to hear if she answered.

Stairway. Fatal funnel. One way up, one spot for a gunman to cover. He went up crouched all the way down. Untrained shooters shot high, their gun hands jerking up in their excitement.

Nothing on the landing. No sound but the racket of rain against windows and roof, the nearly constant rumble and louder explosions of thunder. He was into the bedroom, which held a bed, two nightstands, and not much else. Bathroom next, looking behind the door, throwing aside the shower curtain. And finally, the dressing room.

Alotof clothes. Nobody hiding amongst them. Tobias was sure of it.

“Clear!” Jace shouted down to Lily, turned on the torch, and swept it around again to doublecheck.

“Toss your keys,” she shouted back. “I’ll turn off your headlights.”

He could have argued. He didn’t. He threw the keys down, saw the flash as she switched on the light of her phone, and a minute later, the light glowing through the front window went dark. He got downstairs as the kitchen door slammed closed and the light came closer, and then she was there.

Muddy. Soaking wet. Alive.

She said, “Power failure.”

“Yeah.” He was breathing hard, adrenaline letting itself go, and so was she. She dropped her phone on the couch and set her revolver down next to it.

She looked straight into his eyes. She stepped right into his arms.

He dropped the light.

He had a hand over her wet hair, another one around her back, and he was pulling her up onto her toes and taking her mouth.

Not gentle this time. He couldn’t. She was gasping into him, her hands on his shoulders, then pulling at his jacket. He stripped it off, reached for her again, pulled her soaked sweater off, then got his hand on a firm, round breast. It felt great.

She made a sound. A whimper.

He was going up in flames.