Page 80 of The Right Wrong Promise

She nods, her small green eyes wide.

Dan brushes past me, grinning in triumph. “Ready to lock it when you are.”

“Good. I’ll wait until I hear that click,” I tell him. “Now what do you do if someone comes to the door and it isn’t me?”

“Call 9-1-1,” the kids say together.

“And hide,” Dan adds.

“Right. You head upstairs to our room and lock the door. Push the heaviest thing you can find in front of it.” I glance at Margot, grateful to see her color returning. “Will you stay with them? I won’t be long. Exactly where did it happen again?”

“That section with the overgrown brush,” she says.

So they were lurking near the house, then.

That’s fucking grim for intentions, knowing that brush is thick.

Also tells me they were probably around long enough to figure that out, which means they could’ve scoped out the entire place.

Shit.

I nod firmly and make sure my phone is still in my pocket, brandishing the flashlight in my other hand.

“Anything else I should know?” I lock eyes with Margot.

“I don’t think so. Just—be careful, Kane.”

“Don’t worry about me. If I find anybody poking around, worry for them.”

The color fades from her cheeks again.

I’m not trying to scare her, but I’m deadly serious.

Asses will be kicked to the moon if I find anybody on our land.

Her land.

What the fuck ever.

“Stay put, guys,” I warn once again, looking them over. “I’ll be back soon.”

The driveway islong and dark, one long cold shadow when the temperature drops.

I can see my breath in my flashlight beam. It’s not that late, but it’s pitch-black under the tall trees near that brush. I get why she panicked.

Fuck.

I expected trouble in the wake of the kiss, yeah, but not chasing a prowler.

At least the kids seem more excited than scared.

Dan’s having the time of his life playing superhero. The boy’s too young to have a real sense of danger and old enough to think that a few summer karate classes turned him into a lethal machine.

Sophie only panics when she’s alone, and I’m glad as hell there’s plenty of company for her.

A twig snaps under my shoe.

I swing my flashlight over the path, checking for any movements, any rustling on the horizon that can’t be blamed on the trees.