car to a screeching halt at the curb Claire saw Miranda’s face at the window, eyes wide in terror, staring at the thing that was coming

to destroy their home.

And her.

There were no plans made for this contingency, and Claire

knew there was no time for any; Shane and Michael bailed out the

front, and Shane remembered— barely— to yank open Claire’s

door in the back before he dashed after Michael, too.

“Get the driver!” Michael yelled, but it wasn’t going to be that

easy, because the driver wasn’t alone— he had a couple of other

burly construction- hardened guys with him. Shane veered off and

made a running leap for the cab of the bulldozer. It was brand-

new, barely dirty yet, and it had an enclosed, probably air-

conditioned cab . . . with a locking door.

And the driver, of course, had it locked.

Shane yanked on the door, but that was useless; he tried driv-

ing his elbow into the glass, but it was thick, designed to resist flying debris. And then the bulldozer, which had slowed down as the

operator assessed the threat Shane represented, sped up again, and

the lurch threw him off to roll on the grass.

There wasn’t time for anything too fancy, but Claire stopped,

ran back to the police car, and frantically searched around the

seats . . . and found an expandable, flexible baton. She raced past Shane, who was rising to head for the bulldozer again.

“Help Michael!” she yelled. He and Eve were in the middle of

a scrum with the two other construction men, and Michael still

hadn’t realized the limitations of his all- too- human body yet. “I’ve got this!”

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He gave her a quick, worried look, but he didn’t argue. Besides,

he loved a good fistfight, and this was shaping up to be one he’d remember fondly.

Claire took a deep breath, a running jump, and landed on the

rubber- coated step next to the cab. The driver gave her an irri-

tated, smug look; he sneered and didn’t bother to put the machine

in idle this time.

At least, not until she drew back and smashed the heavy baton

into the window glass, cracking it into frost. A second blow rained chunks of safety glass all over him, and he let out a yelp and took his hand off the throttle— which automatically shut the bulldozer down

to an idle again, five feet from the corner of the house. He swore at her, loudly, and shoved the door open, which pushed her off and

onto the grass, where she hit and rolled to her feet, breathing hard.

She’d been hoping he’d jump out and come after her, but he’d

done what he intended to do by brushing her off, and now he

slammed the door again and jammed the throttle forward.

“No!” Claire screamed, and leaped back on. She collided with