Chapters (78)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Acknowledgments
- Discover More
- About the Author
- Also by Owen Laukkanen
Jess didn’t say anything. After a beat the man laughed.
“Ma’am, I’d be glad to tell you anything you want to know about my plans and whatnot, but do you think we could do this inside? I’m getting pretty well soaked, and you…” He gestured to her feet. “You aren’t even wearing shoes.”
She looked down, saw he was right, felt the wet soak through her thin socks, and realized she was freezing. Shit.
“You try anything, I’ll cut you down,” she said, backing up a few steps. “I’ve got no problem with defending my home.”
“I can see that,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. He brushed himself off, then held out his hand. “Mason Burke,” he said.
She looked at his hand. Didn’t let go of the shotgun.
“All right, then.” Burke pointed toward the front yard. “Shall we?”
Jess kept the shotgun on him, stepped back so he could lead, and followed him up the porch stairs to the front door and into her living room. The house was dark, there was almost no daylight, and Mason Burke was a silhouette in the center of the room as she felt along the wall with her free hand for the light switch.
“You want my boots off?” he asked her after she’d turned on the light.
She shook her head. “You’re not staying long.”
“Well, what about my jacket? I don’t want to drip water all over your floor.” He was half smiling again when he said it, like the Remington didn’t bother him, like this was some kind of joke.
“Look,” he said, nodding over her shoulder. “You have a coat hook right there. You want to swing around so you can keep that gun pointed at me while I’m hanging it up?”
She hesitated a moment, not liking being told what to do, but then she stepped aside anyway because he was dripping all over the rug.
“Might as well take your boots off too, then,” she said, backing around him and toward the kitchen. “Take a seat on the couch, and don’t try anything stupid.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and as he knelt to unlace his boots, she ducked into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and installed it opposite the couch, a clear line of sight to the front door.
Burke hadn’t sat down. He’d kicked off his boots and ambled over to the mantel above the fireplace, was studying the pictures she kept there in frames. “This you?” he asked, motioning to the first one, a snapshot from the Kunar Province, her with her flak jacket and M4 and helmet, her hair down to her shoulders so the local women would know from a distance she was a girl too.
Jess nodded.