Stay calm. The alarm could be nothing worse than a rowdy raccoon setting off a trip wire. Right?
One really heavy raccoon.
If only she could do something besides stare at the freaking computer screen. She hated the inaction.
Well, hell. She was starting to sound like Danny. Part of her wanted to be just like him, able to dive into a situation, completely confident in her judgment. Sure, Danny was a little arrogant. But, doggone him, he was usually right.
And to give him credit, he was trying to include her. Once confronted, he shared more about tracking Kent's finances, working through Ammar's possible connection together when he could have bluffed his way through.
So why the knee-jerk need to pull back from Daniel?
Intellectually she knew he wasn't a threat to her independence. He might get angry and stomp around, but the man eventually listened. He cared.
Danny's words in the car tripped through her mind, his confusion about her reluctance to go for even a simple doctor visit. The answer sidled past her defenses with blinding clarity.
Those doctor visits symbolized weakness to her, and above all she couldn't bear to be weak, dependant. Just as it didn't help denying herself the healing balm of words to negate there was even a problem, staying away from Danny couldn't protect her from the risk of loving him.
The rest of the answer followed in a rush, now that her defenses had been breached. Sharing burdens didn't equate loss of control or weakness, with the right person by her side.
With Danny by her side.
His innate honor, his ever-logical sense of fairness would make him a man to trust. He might not always agree with her, but he would listen to her. Respect her.
Love her.
How strange that Danny with his black-and-white reasoning helped her see the shades of gray to find the formula for making it all work. She sank back on the stool, exhausted and exhilarated all at once.
A flicker of movement on the screen snagged her attention. Danny?
Nerves drew taut, near to breaking. The figure cleared the trees. Not Danny.
Kent.
Icy pinpricks tingled over her scalp.
Her ex-husband stepped deeper into the clearing. Closer to her hiding place in the cabin. Sunlight played dappled shadows over his blond perfection. She'd once found the dimple in his chin endearing, his classic looks and clean-cut appearance safe.
She'd been so horribly wrong.
Bile roiled up her throat. Swaying, she gripped the edge of the counter. He stared at the cabin, eyes intense, as if he knew.
Of course he knew she was inside.
Oh, God, where was Danny? He couldn't be dead. She refused to believe that. What the hell should she do?
Kent pulled his hand out of his pants pocket, his fingers clenched around a rock-size object. Her methodical, understated ex couldn't have a grenade. Something so overt—so messy—wouldn't be Kent's style.
Still, she winced. Zoomed in with the camera and saw … a piece of paper banded around some kind of weight.
With a gentle underhand toss, Kent lobbed it onto the porch. Mary Elise heard the thud echo in stereo from outside and through the computer's speaker.
He raised his hand, waved once in a mocking salute and waited.
She shifted on the bar stool, trying like crazy to adopt Daniel's logic and blend it with her own intuition about the madman she'd married. Stepping outside would be reckless, and undoubtedly Danny would be furious with her.
Unless Kent had already—
She sliced that thought away. Damn it, she couldn't even consider that, because then she couldn't think at all. But what if Daniel had been hurt? Time became crucial.