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fault,” she said, realizing the implications. “She died because of me.”
    She’d sagged against him, her body racked with sobs. Forcing her to stand upright, he turned her around and slid gentle fingers under her chin to make her look up at him.
    “Rollie, look at me. I had nothing to do with that, I promise you,” he said, his voice urgent. “I need you to pull yourself together.” He looked up, sharp gaze narrowing on the window. “We have company, and I don’t think they’re here to borrow a cup of sugar.”
    It took Rollie a few more seconds to snap out of it and understand what he was saying. An experienced soldier she wasn’t. She hadn’t noticed anything wrong. However, the self-preservation programming innate in every human kicked in, and she recognized the tension in his body.
    But why should she trust him? The company he was referring to could be the police or the FBI coming to her rescue.
    Before she could say or do anything else, the windows in the far wall exploded, sending glass and wooden splinters flying all over the place.
     
     
     

Chapter Four
    Day wrapped her into his arms, shielding her with his larger body. The sound of the explosion had barely finished, and he was moving. The black-swathed figures that clambered through the ruined windows were obviously not friendly as small red dots and faint dancing beams pierced the dust in the room. They settled on her shoulder for a second, shocking her into motionlessness, before he shoved her out the way, kicking the fridge door open as meager cover as bullets began flying.
    Within a heartbeat, his weapon was in his hand. He pulled the trigger, the gun seeming like an extension of his being. Methodically, he cut them down before the dust could fully clear, then he turned to her where she crouched behind the refrigerator door.
    He spun the gun in his hand and offered it to her grip first from his open hand. “I presume they at least put you through basic range drill?”
    Rollie was genuinely shocked, even more than she had been by the flash grenades. He was giving her his weapon? And how the hell did he know she knew how to shoot? The men he had killed wore civvies and looked meaner than the offensive line of a losing football team. They obviously weren’t cops or FBI. These guys were killers.
    This wasn’t the time to contemplate. Not asking any more questions, she took the gun and positioned herself behind one of the thick oak pillars running down the center of the cabin as she’d been taught.
    Once in a while, when she didn’t think of engineering or physics, she’d contemplate her personal philosophy. Would she be able to take a life even if her own was on the line? If the time came, would she be able to stab a man with a knife or shoot one with a gun? She didn’t come up with any clear answers then. But as the front door caved in and a mean-looking ogre with an M16 started shooting the second he stepped past the threshold, she got her answer.
    One shot. Then another. And another. It all seemed to go in slow motion. She could see the expression on his face as the bullets struck him first in the arm, then in the chest. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a sickening expression of pain and torment, and a realization that one’s life was coming to an end. It seemed to go on forever as the man fell to the ground, his assault rifle still firing in his hands as his death grip held onto the trigger. Within seconds, the magazine had fired its last round.
    ***
    She could shoot. Like, seriously shoot. Surprise held Day spellbound for a second or two, but then his training kicked in. He scooped the nearest weapon up, dropped from a rapidly cooling hand, and checked the magazine. Full. He grunted as he slapped it back into place.
    “Bag, under the counter next to you,” he ordered her, keeping his voice brisk. He didn’t spare the bodies on the floor another glance as he approached the door carefully to check outside. “And ditch the