Chapter 21

21

Caleb woke to a muted beep.

The distinctive tone meant only one thing. Perimeter alarm—someone had breached his territory.

A glance at his watch confirmed the time as three in the morning. Adrenalin spiked, icing his veins as reality slammed home. Hudson's men had found them and breached the defensive net he'd constructed around the cabin.

Caleb cupped Grace's shoulder and gave her a gentle shake, lowering his mouth to her ear. "Grace."

Confusion flickered across her features, interrupted dreams still clinging. "Caleb, what—" Her eyes widened as she registered the muted alarm. "What's that noise?"

"Alarm's been tripped. We have company." She tensed under his touch, and he risked the briefest caress across her cheekbone to soothe her nerves. "Get dressed."

He rolled out from under the blanket, shucked on his pants and shirt, his feet chilling on the cold floor.

Dolly's whine from the kitchen diverted his focus. She hurried over to him, her claws tip tapping on the wood.

"Hey girl. Business as usual." He smoothed his palm over her soft ears, letting the familiar sensation ground him against the adrenalin electrifying his nerves.

A quick check of the security monitors revealed triple cordon breaches - front, rear, eastern perimeter. A second of admiration pulsed through him.

Clever bastards, trying to hem them in before closing for the kill.

His pulse kicked higher as the cold clarity of his former Navy life washed over him. He had known they would come for Grace.

It was only a matter of time.

With a low grunt, he shifted the heavy dresser on the far kitchen wall until its false rear panel flipped open, revealing the recessed cache beyond. He wasted no time securing the familiar weight of his gun, checking the loaded magazines.

"Caleb…" Grace's gaze landed on his arsenal. She'd dressed and had laced up her boots, girding herself outwardly, but her expressive eyes shone overlarge in the gloom.

Before she could give voice to her fears, he crossed the distance between them in two strides. Fingers splaying along her jaw, he tipped her face upward to his. "We're going to be fine, you hear me? You do as I say and we'll walk out of this."

She gave a tiny nod, the softness of her loose hair brushing his knuckles.

"Okay. Stay low, away from the windows, and stay behind me." He took her hand and tugged her toward the rear of the cabin. He released her hand only long enough to lift the worn red rug from the floor, exposing the outline of a trapdoor and recessed metal handle. Caleb slipped his fingers into the metal loop and tugged it upward. Loamy air wafted up from below.

Grace inhaled sharply. "What is this?"

"It's the old log storage. Going down will take us outside away from the cabin. They'll have eyes on all the doors."

Dolly whined once before taking the lead, disappearing into the blackness with a muscular wriggle. Caleb followed, dropping into the musty space, his boots making a soft thud as he landed. Down here, the relentless beep of his alarm was no longer audible. "Your turn."

Grace perched on the edge and pushed off at his command, landing in his arms.

He placed her on the ground with care. "You're doing great."

The metallic cycle of a shotgun being racked made him freeze.

Fuck. Out of time.

Heart thundering, he yanked the trapdoor closed, plunging them into pitch blackness.

He unholstered his gun, his palm against familiar ridges and grooves. His heart pounded a relentless tattoo against his ribs as he tensed, every sense honed to a razor's edge.

Hudson's men were smarter than he'd anticipated, their stealth suggesting an impressive level of training. But if they thought that alone would grant them Grace, they were in for a rude awakening.

He pushed her behind him, deeper into the shadows, angling his body to shield her.

A deep menacing rumble rose from Dolly at his side. She was all but invisible in the suffocating darkness, even with patches of white on her coat. Caleb raised his gun, the polymer grip molded to his palm like a second skin as he regulated his breathing, every sense straining to locate any scrap of movement.

Because these men would give themselves away. He was sure of it.

There—the faintest scuff of a heavy boot against stone. Caleb launched himself toward the threat. He collided with a wall of muscle, grappling for purchase as they crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

The intruder's shotgun roared like thunder, the muzzle flash searing Caleb's retinas. Pulverized dirt rained on him, coating his clothes and filling his nose with the acrid stench of gunpowder. He landed a barrage of punches before thick fingers clamped around his throat, crushing his windpipe.

Stars exploded across his darkening vision, as he ripped at the hands locked on his neck. Fur and fury hit Caleb, knocking him sideways. Dolly's enraged snarl cut through the blood roaring in his ears. Bones crunched, and a man screamed, his grip slackening enough for Caleb to suck in a desperate lungful of air.

He registered Grace's choked cry, but the primal need to neutralize the threat consumed him. With a bellow, Caleb smashed his forehead into the other man's face, feeling the satisfying crunch of cartilage.

Pain exploded along his ribcage, as the man retaliated, punching his side with an iron fist, but Caleb pushed through, seizing a fistful of the intruder's hair. He slammed the man's head against the stony floor and the man went limp, the clatter of his gun loud in the confined space.

Caleb rolled to his knees, chest heaving as he fought to master breathing through his bruised windpipe. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

They were alive. Their attacker….

He pressed trembling fingers to the man's jugular, finding a pulse. Their attacker would live to see another day.

Dolly whined, nose prodding at Caleb's knees as he sagged back on his haunches.

"Grace?" Fuck, the lining of his throat felt like ripped metal. He spat blood. "Grace?" He lurched to his feet, desperate to have eyes on her. "Talk to me."

A flashlight beam sliced through the dark. "Caleb?" Grace's familiar silhouette materialized at his side. "Oh, my God. Are you…"

Her flashlight illuminated their bloodied attacker. Caleb followed her gaze, registering the man's ruined face with grim satisfaction. If their paths ever crossed again, he wouldn't forget.

"That's Granger. One of Alex's men." Her voice fell to a stunned whisper.

Now he saw it. The beet red cheeks masked by dirt. One of the two men he'd encountered at the vets.

The complete lack of surprise in her tone sent a fresh surge of rage cascading through Caleb's veins. He swallowed blood, tamping down the murderous impulses still burning in his gut.

"Are you okay?" She turned her attention to him, palmed his cheek, her touch tender.

He cleared his throat. "Nothing serious."

Dolly whined, cold nose nudging Caleb's knuckles in solidarity.

"Let's move." Lacing his fingers through Grace's clammy ones, Caleb tugged her the short run toward the exit.

Not soon enough, he found the exit, the wooden hatch above hanging from one hinge.Caleb boosted himself through the narrow opening, ignoring the screaming protest of sore muscles. Taking one knee, he scanned the tree line for any hint of movement, listening to hear past the frantic pounding of his own heartbeat. Behind them, a radio burst into life in a burble of static. A team leader asking for an update. Then the rumble of approaching vehicles drifted on the winter breeze—reinforcements closing in to cut off their escape.

Leaning back into the shadows, Caleb reached down and lifted Grace out. Dolly sprang out a heartbeat later, a pale streak disappearing into the trees without a backward glance.

Grace stumbled toward Dolly's exit. "Wait, where is she going? Your truck is the other way."

"They'll be expecting that." He propelled her toward the dense tree line opposite the dirt road's lazy curve. "This way."

Caleb led her into the forest along a thin thread of a track, invisible in the snow, but he knew it from memory. Unease coiled in his gut. Fresh snow betrayed their flight with damning clarity—a glaring arrow pointing the way for their hunters. Every snapped twig and footprint was a klaxon, announcing their presence.

He breathed a sigh of relief as dense evergreens fell away to reveal a small clearing bathed in moonlight. He halted on the clearing boundary close to where a ramshackle lean-to lurked against the tree line. Its weathered boards, all but invisible, provided cover for an aging truck.

"This is yours?"

He grunted his agreement. "Plan B." Because a good operative always had a Plan B.

Dolly waited beside the truck, giving a soft woof to acknowledge their arrival. Good girl.

He waited for a hint of their pursuers but nothing stirred save the plumes of his breathing and the soft sigh of wind through naked branches.

"Okay. Let's go." He hurried across the clearing, plunged his hand into the rot-hollowed trunk of a long-dead oak where his numb fingers closed around icy metal—the spare key.

The driver's door shrieked in protest as he wrenched it open. A packed duffle bag rested on the passenger seat. Caleb tossed it aside to make space for Grace and Dolly, then slid behind the wheel. Ancient vinyl protested beneath his weight as he cranked the engine, and he flinched as its throaty growl shattered the tomb-like silence.

So fucking loud.

The dull yellow headlights speared through the night, skeleton branches casting monstrous shadows across the snow as he reversed onto the main road.

Grace was silent as he turned away from Aurora Cove. Instead, he headed deeper into the mountains, toward the craggy peaks ahead. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe. I promise." He reached across the threadbare seat, his fingers catching hold of hers for a moment. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he searched for telltale pricks of yellow light, but only the night stared back. They were alone, for now at least.

He returned his attention to Grace, huddled against the passenger door, her features drawn and ashen in the faltering amber glow of the dash lights. Her uninjured hand was fisted in Dolly's thick ruff where the dog lay draped protectively across her lap.

She had endured more than any person should have to face, and yet still she persevered.

A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as he dragged his attention back to the road. There could be no doubt in his heart any longer.

This woman was his. His to shelter, his to protect, his to fight for.