Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
The only sounds we heard were the occasional hoot of an owl, the wind in the trees, and the low static of the baby monitor we probably didn’t even need with the house being so small and Judah being only a few feet away.
So when a door slammed, I was knifing up in bed, taking Claire—who’d been asleep on my chest—with me.
“What?” Claire asked, sleepy, confused. “Is it Judah?” she asked, slow blinking in the dark room.
“No,” I said, already moving away from her, getting to my feet, and yanking on a pair of pants, then tucking my phone in my pocket before making my way into the closet, reaching onto the shelf, and pulling down my gun.
Normally, I wouldn’t feel comfortable keeping a gun around in the house that wasn’t locked up.
But Judah was still a toddler.
And no amount of brainstorming and troublemaking would make it possible for him to get to the shelf in the closet.
“Don’t,” I hissed when Claire reached toward the light.
I could feel bad about my shortness with her later. When I was sure it was just the guard switching out or some shit like that. And not our worst fears realized.
“What is it?” she answered in a whisper, climbing silently out of bed, and yanking on her discarded panties and t-shirt.
“Probably nothing,” I said, creeping toward the window to peek out.
It was too dark to see anything at all.
So with my pulse thrumming, some sick sensation starting to slosh around in my stomach, I made my way toward the door to the hallway.
Judah’s room was toward the front of the house.
And while I knew the windows were locked, it suddenly felt incredibly reckless to have him closer to the driveway, to a threat that might be approaching.
It was supposed to be safe here.
No.
I needed to not get ahead of myself.
A door didn’t mean an ambush.
“Stay here,” I whispered to Claire who’d moved halfway across the room toward me.
I waited for her nod before opening the door, moving into the hallway, and reaching for Judah’s door.
I moved inside, feeling a rush of relief at seeing him still fast asleep in his bed.
Inching across the room, I reached for the locks on each of his windows, making sure they were still engaged, then pulling the curtain back ever so slightly, peeking out front.
To keep the place as inconspicuous and hard to find as possible, we didn’t keep the front light on at night.
I was suddenly cursing that fact as I glanced out and saw nothing but inky blackness.
I could just about make out the car parked on the street, but that was all dark as well.
“Is he okay?” Claire asked, peeking in the bedroom door.
I gave her a nod, but pressed my finger to my lips. Just in case.
Her eyes widened, but I reached into the hall for her, pulling her into the room, then motioned for her to stay as I went back to the door.
I was trying to convince myself that I was being overprotective, a little paranoid.
But there was no denying the pit in my stomach, the sick sensation moving up my throat, the way my spine was so tense it felt brittle.
Sometimes, you just had a feeling. And it was never a good idea to second-guess your instincts.
In the best case, I was just jumping at shadows. I could laugh it off and go back to bed with Claire.
In the worst, though, this was giving me a chance to catch an intruder unaware. To take them out before they could get anywhere near Claire and Judah.
I winced as one of the floorboards in the hall creaked under my step, cursing myself for not paying attention to shit like that, getting to know the quirks of the house.
I’d been too busy with Claire and Judah to remember that something as small as a squeaky floorboard or a cracked window could be the difference between life and death.
Stop.
I needed to stop.
All I could do now was focus.
And hopefully laugh at myself in a few minutes when it turned out to be nothing.
I made my way past the bathroom, reminding myself that the alarm was set, and there was no beep that said someone had broken a window or picked a lock.
If there even was a threat, it was still outside.
Somehow, though, my anxiety only managed to ratchet up as I ducked down below the open curtains in the dining room, creeping my way toward the kitchen.
Almost done.
Once the inside was gone over, I could call the guard to see if he could do a perimeter sweep.
Then this would all be fucking ov—
My heart surged up into my throat as I rounded the kitchen.
Because there was the sound of footsteps.
I had the home field advantage here. I could move more smoothly in the dark.
But with a gun, my shot would be inaccurate.