“Go,” he ordered. For the second time, she followed him without question, a hunched sprint down the hall. One door...two...three…a sharp turn and they were in the office. Peirce closed the door behind them, bolting it even though he must have known it wouldn’t do anything to stop men with guns.
He opened the doors to the garden carefully, staying low and taking in the scene. She couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean her stomach wasn’t churning from fear and worry.
“Remember,” Peirce said evenly, “hug the wall.”
She nodded once, hoping she could keep it together. He ushered her out and she did as he ordered, pressing herself against the stone, praying no one had seen her. Peirce was there a half second later.
“Good girl,” he murmured, moving forward and checking over the top of the wall once. “Let’s go.”
They leapfrogged their way through the garden, keeping the stone wall between them and the men at the front of the house. At each break in the wall, each place where a gravel pathway interrupted their safe escape, Emma felt sick as she watched Peirce check before gesturing her ahead of him.
She could hear shouting from the house, crashes and shattering as the men razed it, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Her father had brought it on himself. It was a fitting end to his legacy.
They were almost to the garage. Her mouth went dry. A stretch of open ground. If the men near the house turned and looked down the gentle hill, she and Peirce would be spotted instantly. Judging by the wry grin on his face, he knew that too.
“I’ll distract them,” he told her, “and you run for the garage.”
“No.”
“Dammit, Emma, I can get you the time you need!”
She grasped his hand, knowing he could feel her touch through his gloves. “You’re not dying for me.”
He gritted his teeth and scowled at her. “I don’t intend to die,” he said, deliberately emphasising each word. “But there’s no way I can do my fucking job if you’re in danger. Understand?”
“How do I know you aren’t going to rush them once I’m safe in the garage?”
He growled something under his breath, but she didn’t back down. She didn’t care if the men came down from the house to find them both still arguing behind the wall. He needed to be safe.
“If I rush them, I’ll die. And as I already stated, that’s not part of the plan.”
“What is the plan, Peirce?”
“For the love of the gods, woman, get to the garage!”
“What’s your plan?”
He huffed angrily, ripped his welder’s goggles from their belt loop and curled her fingers around them. “These go to our son. I want at least one. And maybe a daughter so I can shoot her boyfriend when he screws up. Okay? Now do you understand my plan?”
If he weren’t trying to shock the shit out of her and get her to obey one goddamn order before some dumbass merc shot her in her beautiful and stubborn little head, he might have appreciated the radiant expression that crossed her face.
In the middle of a fire fight.
While they were trying to escape with their lives from a psychotic killer who was currently burning down her ancestral home.
Great fucking way to propose, Taggart, you asswipe.
He clasped a hand around t
he back of her head and kissed her as deeply as he could. “As soon as this is done, we’re getting hitched. And I’m not inviting your father.”
“You’ve got two minutes to get to the garage or I’m coming back,” she whispered. And taking a deep breath, she darted down the hill.
He was already popping up from his position, moving back up the hill toward the house, firing his gun at the sentries. They behaved exactly as they should, diving for cover, focusing solely on him.
The stone wall shivered from the impact of bullets as he ducked behind it. His cuff lit up and he could barely make out Douglass’s voice through all the noise.
“Some signal fire, sir.”