What was Jimmy doing back there with his buddies? Who had shown up? Matthias’s crew usually rolled up in unlicensed unmarkeds. They didn’t hop on broomsticks and dive-bomb from out of a stormy sky. Besides, there was no one out there anymore that he could see.

As time dragged and a whole lot of nothing-but-wind went on, he thought maybe he’d lost his mind altogether.

“You okay?” he whispered without turning around.

There was a rustling and then Grier was shoulder-to-shoulder beside him on the floor. “What’s going on? Can you see anything?”

He noted she didn’t answer the question—but come on, like she had to? “It’s nothing we need to be a part of.”

Nothing, period, it seemed. Although . . . well, actually, if he squinted, the shadows did seem to form patterns consistent with fighters engaging in hand-to-hand combat. Except, of course, there was nobody out there—and he was seeing logic to the way things moved. To get the effect he was seeing, a legion of lights would have had to be shining in from all different directions to get even close to the optics.

“This doesn’t feel right to me,” Grier said.

“I agree.” He looked over at her. “But I’m going to take care of you.”

“I thought you were going to leave.”

“I didn’t.” The couldn’t part was something he kept to himself. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

Her head tilted to the side as she stared at him. “You know . . . I believe you.”

“You can bet your life on it.”

In a quick move, he put his mouth to hers on a hard kiss to seal the deal. And then just as he was pulling back, the wind stopped—sure as if the industrial fan causing all the blowing had been unplugged: In the back forty, there was nothing but utter silence.

What the hell was going on?

“Stay here,” he said as he stood up.

Naturally, she didn’t take the order, but rose to her feet, her hands resting on his shoulder as if she were prepared to tail him. He didn’t like it, but he knew arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere—the best he could do was keep his chest and shoulders front and center to block any shot at her.

He inched forward until he could see outside better. The shadows had disappeared and the tree limbs and bushes were still. Distant sounds of traffic and the far-off wail of an ambulance were once again an ambient city song playing like Muzak all around the neighborhood.

He glanced over at her. “I’m going out there. Can you handle a firearm?” When she nodded, he took out one of his two guns. “Have this.”

She didn’t hesitate, but man, he hated the sight of her pale, elegant hands on his weapon.