One Tough Marine. Пола Грейвс

what? You’ll hurt a two-year-old?” Luke sneered. “What a fulfilling job you have.”

      The masked man took a swift step forward. Luke’s gun hand twitched upward.

      A second man in a black mask stepped around the corner into the kitchen and put a restraining hand on the other man’s arm. He murmured something Luke couldn’t quite make out.

      The man with the Brahmin accent visibly took himself under control. “Seven days.”

      “Got it. Now get out of my house.”

      The second man—African-American, Luke noted, just as Abby had described—nodded toward the back of the house. He went around the corner and out of sight.

      The other man stayed where he was, staring Luke down. Luke didn’t drop his gaze, more than happy to wait him out.

      “Don’t let me down,” the man said. Then he turned as well, disappearing around the corner on silent feet.

      Luke stayed where he was, knowing that trying to stop them was a fool’s game that wouldn’t end well. He tightened his grip on the Glock, waiting for the sound of a window opening in the back of the house.

      It came, softer than he’d expected. They’d probably greased the window first to cut down on the creaks. He didn’t hear it close at all, but after a couple of minutes, he decided it was safe to check the rest of the house.

      The man in the mask hadn’t been lying. Both bedrooms, both bathrooms and the living room had been trashed in a fast but thorough search. He suspected they’d searched the kitchen as well, though they’d clearly taken more care to hide their tracks there, apparently knowing from their earlier reconnaissance that he customarily entered through the side door. Easier to get the upper hand if they didn’t leave a calling card for him to discover the second he walked through the door.

      He was surprised they hadn’t tried the garage.

      Or had they?

      Unease squirming in his belly, he raced to the garage, unlocked the door and let himself in. The place was just as he’d left it, no sign of a struggle or anything out of place. They’d probably checked here first, he realized, and, as they had with the kitchen, left it as they’d found it in order to cover their tracks.

      Inside the car, Abby had shifted to the driver’s side, her pale face staring back at him through the Mustang’s open window.

      “Is it safe?” she asked softly.

      He thought about the ease with which Abby had broken into his house earlier. It was probably ten times easier for the intruders he’d just encountered in his kitchen. And they’d been able to disable the silent alarm before it sent him a warning. Had they had access to his personal files at MSI? What else might they know about him and his life in San Diego?

      “No,” he answered Abby’s question firmly, reaching into the car to unlatch the trunk. He checked the trunk to make sure the duffel bag he kept stashed there for emergency travel was still in place. It was, and a cursory check of the contents reassured him that he had enough extra clothes and supplies inside to get him through the next few days.

      Abby had gotten out of the car and come around to stand beside him, her gaze flickering down to the travel bag. “We’re not staying here tonight, are we?”

      He shook his head. “No, we’re not.”

      “What happened?”

      He told her about the intruders, keeping it short and sweet. But even his sanitized account was enough to reignite the terror that had finally started to fade from her blue eyes. She bit her lip and looked back into the car at Stevie, who was sleeping peacefully in his car seat.

      Her chin came up, and when she spoke, there was not a hint of shakiness in her voice. “Where are we going?”

      Until that moment, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. But clearly, staying in San Diego would only subject them to more surprise visits from their tormentors. Luke wasn’t foolish enough to assume their bark was worse than their bite; nobody played such aggressive mind games unless they were pretty damned sure they had the goods to back up their threats. Whoever their employer was, he had high-powered connections and, Luke assumed, enough firepower to do what he threatened.

      Luke might be a well-trained retired Marine who could still hold his own in a fight, but going up against that kind of enemy alone was stupid. He needed backup and he needed to change the playing field to give himself the advantage. And there was only one place he could think of where he’d have the upper hand.

      “Right now,” he answered Abby, “we’re going to find a cheap motel where they’ll take cash and ask no questions.”

      “And after that?”

      He smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. “Ever been to Alabama?”