Page 81 of Storm Warning

She shook her head, her gaze darting toward the back of the house.

“Can you find out without putting yourself in danger? Perhaps ask a friend you can trust who is still connected?”

Another head shake. “I can’t take that risk. I have too much to lose.”

While Riley understood, that wouldn’t help her with the present dilemma. Knowing people might come after her for doing the job was one thing. Not knowing which direction the danger would come from was something else entirely.

Andre stood and helped Riley to her feet. “So does she.”

“Mom!”

“Go take care of your son.” Riley turned toward the door. “We’ll figure out who wants me badly enough to risk going up against Fortress.”

Angie walked them to the door and opened it. She turned back to speak to Riley when a shot rang out.

Angie cried out and clamped a hand over her right biceps to staunch the flow of blood and kicked the door closed with her foot.

“Down.” Andre and Elias hurried to either side of the picture window and peered out. Iona joined Elias, weapon in her hand.

“Third house on the left,” Elias said. “He’s behind the bushes at the corner.”

More shots rang out, and the picture window shattered, shards of glass falling to the floor.

“Get her out of here, Riley.”

Riley wrapped her hand around Angie’s uninjured arm and urged her toward the back of the house and away from the gunfire, although her first instinct was to palm her weapon and join in the hunt for the shooter.

Elias glanced at Iona. “Stay alert. Even though we only saw one shooter, he may have a partner lurking nearby. If he does, take him down.”

“Copy that.”

“Let’s go.” Andre motioned for Elias to follow him.

Riley continued almost to carry her friend toward safety. What was her problem? Did she have a death wish?

Angie slowed her pace when she realized where Riley was taking her. “No. My son. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“The kitchen is the safest place for both of you. More walls between you and the shooter’s last known position. Tell your son this was a drive-by shooting.”

“In this neighborhood? The most dangerous things that happen in this subdivision are drunk and disorderly calls and a few domestic disturbances.”

They hurried into an enormous kitchen, where Riley guided Angie to the breakfast bar. A teenage boy turned from the refrigerator to look at his mother. His eyes widened.

“Mom! What happened?”

“Someone shot me.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Brett. I promise.”

Riley ripped the sleeve of Angie’s shirt to get a better look at the injury. “She’s right. This is a flesh wound. Angie, you should still go to the hospital. You need stitches or butterfly bandages and antibiotics.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to go to a hospital. I hate them.”

“Who doesn’t? Suck it up, Angie. You need medical treatment for your family if not for yourself, and you need to report the shooting to the police.”

“When did you become so bossy?”