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indication that there were assassins about. But then, a hired gun probably wouldn’t give many indications before he aimed and pulled the trigger.
    Still, they’d have to risk it.
    “Let’s go,” Matt ordered her.
    “Let’s go?” She didn’t move, even when he clamped on to her arm. “How could it possibly be safer out there than it would be in here?”
    “Those assassins are going to riddle this house with bullets. There’s no place we can hide in here where we can’t be shot.”
    Obviously not convinced, she frantically shook her head. “But—”
    “They probably have explosives or some other heavy artillery they can use to turn this place and our vehicles into fireballs,” he interrupted. “We’re leaving now. ”
    Matt didn’t wait for an argument. He pulled her out the door and headed for the first cluster of oaks at the back of the house. It wasn’t far, less than twenty feet away. But every step felt like a mile.
    By the time he hauled her behind the largest of the trees, his body was already in full adrenaline mode. His gaze whipped from one side of the woods to the other, and he braced his weapon in case he had to fire. But Matt saw no indication that anyone had trespassed—yet.
    “Keep your gun ready,” he instructed. He pointed toward another cluster of trees just to the east of where they were. “Let’s go.”
    Cass cooperated. Without hesitation or questions she ran, hurdling over a fallen cedar before she ducked into the next barrier of trees.
    “Where are we going?” she asked, her breath heavy with every word. Like him, she kept a vigilant watch around them.
    He knew the answer, but he didn’t think she’d like it. “To a bunker of sorts. We’ll wait there until it’s safe for us to leave.”
    “And what will keep the gunmen from finding us there?”
    “Nothing.”
    Her breath got even heavier. “This doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”
    And at the moment it didn’t sound like much of a plan to Matt, either. He had an old truck stashed back beyond the bunker, but it’d be a bear to get to it and then get out without drawing attention from the assassins.
    Which meant he might have to kill them.
    Of course, Matt had known that from the moment he’d first heard about the Level Red threat. Those men had almost certainly come to murder them, and since Matt wasn’t ready to die, he was prepared to take them out first.
    Matt surveyed the area, then pointed toward a pair of cedar elms with an ankle-deep stream ribboning around them. Just like before, they raced toward cover.
    It was winter all right, not that that was news to Matt, but he became brutally aware of just how cold it was when he felt the slushy, partly-frozen water seep right through the leather in his boots.
    Matt heard something. The back door to his house. No doubt opened by one of the assassins. The men had probably come in through the front and already searched the place—and now they were ready to look outside. Cass’s and his tracks wouldn’t be that hard to follow.
    Cass must have heard the door, as well, because she dropped to the ground, using the mound of frozen dirt and rocks as cover.
    She aimed her gun in the direction of the house. “We don’t have time for this,” she whispered. “We need to get out of here so we can get that equipment and leave for Dominic’s.”
    So, she did appear to have that mountain of resolve even in the face of assassins. Matt admired that. But that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Because he had a really bad feeling that camaraderie and admiration were not going to be assets where Cass Harrison was concerned. The less he felt about her, good or bad, the better.
    He was about to repeat to himself when a flash of movement captured his complete attention.
    One of the men, dressed head to toe in black, darted behind an oak. Matt automatically took aim. So did Cass.
    It was too little too late.
    A bullet came right at them.
     
     
    F ROM THE MOMENT she’d seen