She fired her Glock into the hallway to keep the fourth man from coming out. Staying in a low crouch, Nathan rushed the sofa and dived to its base. He jammed his gun underneath and fired four more shots. At the right edge of the sofa, he peered around the corner.

Number four lay on his back, shuddering, the left side of his face gone.

Three down, one to go.

Five shots left.

A sudden barrage of bullets tore down the hallway. Slugs careened off the slate floor and splintered the door leading to the garage.

A black blur dashed into the den.

Two seconds later, the wall erupted toward Nathan in a horizontal maelstrom as the remaining merc fired blindly through the wall. Something struck his head. Hard.

His vision grayed for an instant. Damn it. Through the haze, Nathan returned fire, emptying his magazine through the wall along the same pattern the merc had fired.

From behind, Holly’s Glock boomed again. Nathan watched chest-high holes appear along the entire length of the wall.

He ejected the spent magazine, jammed a second home, and thumbed the slide release lever. The first of fifteen more rounds slammed into the breech. Feeling light-headed, he crawled across the debris field toward the den. Gun first, he peered around the corner.

The merc was gone.

Cracked pieces of glass still clung to the corners of the sliding door.

The floor was trashed with drywall dust and tempered glass fragments. He saw it then, a small, dark object several feet distant. Fighting to stay conscious, Nathan recognized its form.

A severed finger.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Holly felt a severe stinging in her left forearm. In the dim light, she saw an area of torn flesh the size of a silver dollar. What started as a bee sting quickly turned ugly. Within seconds, the fire in her arm had doubled. By the time she stood up, it had multiplied by a factor of ten. Damn, this thing’s really bleeding. She was pretty sure she hadn’t been shot, so what had nailed her? Then she recalled the granite countertop exploding. She must’ve been clipped by a sharp piece. Although her arm hurt like hell, she was more concerned for Nathan.

“Nathan, are you okay?”

“It’s… not too bad. Just a glancing…” He didn’t finish.

“Nathan?”

Holly looked around. The kitchen was trashed. What had Nathan said? It’s not too bad? Bad? What wasn’t too bad? She ran into the den, ignoring the pain in her arm and the debris under her bare feet. She found Nathan on his back with a dark stain spreading into the carpet under his head.

“Nathan. Nathan!”

His eyes opened and blinked a few times. “How long?”

She parted his hair and felt a deep cut along his scalp.

“How long?” he repeated.

“Have you been out?”

He closed his eyes.

“Ten seconds. You need a hospital.”

“No hospital. No police.”

“Nathan—”