Grave Secrets (Manhunters 1)

“What wrong?” Savannah’s sleepy voice tightened the knot in his gut.

“Someone’s coming. Get into your jacket and boots.”

She was beside him in a moment, bundled for the weather. “Who is it?”

“Can’t tell yet.” He had a couple of loose plans if the car turned out to be the cops and not his team, but again, none were great.

As soon as he saw an identical set of headlights behind the first, he knew. “Cops.”

She pulled in a sharp breath. “Wh-what do we do?”

Options snapped through his mind in seconds. Run in five-degree weather and waist-deep snow got the axe first. Which meant he had to prepare for close-quarters combat.

Savannah moved to another window and peeked out. “It’s Hank,” she whispered just as he stood from the lead vehicle. “How did he find us?”

“The same way we found this place. Who’s with him?”

“Lyle for sure, in the passenger’s seat. I can’t see the car behind them.”

Urgency pushed him into action. He grabbed the Glock from the nightstand on Savannah’s side of the bed and pushed the grip into her hand, then looked out the window again. The two other cops joined Hank beside the first car, their faces illuminated in the headlights’ glow: Corwin and Rosen.

Lyle stood from the passenger’s side, his hand clutching a rifle.

“Stay in the car, Dad,” Hank told Lyle with some force.

But Lyle didn’t listen. He rounded the front of the cruiser. “This is as much my fight as it is yours.”

“Rosen, you stay put. No one gets past you, got it?” Hank pointed at Lyle and added, “Including him.”

“Corwin, you’re with me.” They moved to the first cabin on the left and kicked in the door, clearing it with a by-the-book procedure. Rosen acted like a blockade to Lyle, who didn’t like being told to stand down.

“Rosen helped us before,” she said. “Wouldn’t he do it again?”

“As much as he can when there are three others who’d put a bullet in his head for looking at them wrong. He doesn’t even know we’re here.”

Ian turned Savannah to face him. He squeezed her arms and looked her in the eye. “You need to do exactly what I tell you, okay?” He opened the closet just around the corner from the front door and backed her into the tiny space, easing her to the floor. “Stay here and stay quiet. If someone opens this door, be prepared to shoot. Just don’t shoot me.”

Terror filled her eyes. “What are you—?”

Footsteps neared their cabin. Ian lifted a finger to his lips and closed the closet door. He pressed his back to the wall just around the corner from the entry. If they maintained their current method, Corwin would kick the door in and enter first, followed by Hank. Fucking lazy coward.

Their boots crunched on the snow outside the door.

Hank said, “Go,” and Corwin put a boot to the door. The lock snapped, and the door flung open.

The front door hit the wall between the closet and the entry. The boom-rattle shocked Savannah’s heart, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep the fear inside.

“Police!” Corwin yelled.

Silence followed. Savannah held her breath. The quiet stretched and thickened until Savannah thought she’d be sick with stress. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t just sit in the corner and do nothing. It wasn’t who she was.

She rose to her feet, careful to remain silent, and eased the door open just enough to slip through. Ian had his back to her, his weapon down by his thigh. In the light drifting in through the windows, Savannah saw someone easing into the space, weapon first.

Ian remained intensely still for several long heartbeats. Then he pushed his gun into his waistband and went still again. Once Corwin’s elbow cleared the corner of the wall, Ian twisted Corwin’s wrist with brutal efficiency. His moves were swift, sharp, and violent. The snap of bone shivered down Savannah’s spine and flipped her stomach. Corwin’s cry blended with the thunk of his gun hitting the floor. Ian hauled Corwin forward and right into a hard chop to the throat.

Corwin garbled a scream and crumpled to the floor.

Savannah grimaced and looked away. Her stomach pitched.