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babysitting her. “I’m sorry. I know you’re scared, but if they’re coming for us, I need to meet them now, when they can’t hurt anyone else.” Marnie knew he was talking about his sister and daughter and admired him for the sentiment. She also wanted to slap him upside the head for it. How safe would Elizabeth and Harper be if MacLain died tonight? He pulled her out of the mud and propped her next to a large tree, his strength intimidating and reassuring. “Stay down and hidden. I’ll be back. I promise.” Then he was gone.
    She scanned the woods. Nothing. No floodlights, no gunfire, just silence. Maybe they weren’t killers. Maybe it was a coincidence they’d arrived so soon after she did. Maybe they weren’t wearing assault gear. She weighed the likelihood of getting it so wrong.
    The first shot echoed in the clearing. She jumped, a high-pitched squeal escaping. More gunfire. Damn. Once they’d finished with MacLain, they’d come for her. They’d find the evidence in the cabin, her wet clothes, and then they’d track her into the woods. For now, the dark was her friend; no floodlights behind the cabin meant no gunmen tripping his wires. She should stay down, like he said, because Marnie wasn’t a commando, and she’d be a fool to act like one.
    She gripped the muddy Glock between her hands, feeling pulled between what she should do and what she wanted to do. Every instinct told her run.
    “Shit.” She couldn’t abandon him.
    Marnie hugged the cabin’s edge, staying in its shadows, inching closer to the front where the field and all the action was at. She crept closer until she could see the woods ahead lit by floodlights. If she could somehow reach the long grass without being seen, she’d have a modicum of cover and maybe could give MacLain backup. The only problem was the gunmen were probably hidden in the long grass, too, or in the periphery of the woods. Where MacLain had disappeared to was anyone’s guess, but the man was getting backup, whether he thought he needed it or not.
    On her belly, as flat on the ground as she could make herself, Marnie huddled at the front right corner of the cabin. Frigid mud seeped past the thin cotton of her sweats, making her even more miserable, which she hadn’t thought possible. She fought the feeling she wasn’t up to the task, because she knew most challenges were about mind-set. Marnie was a reformed grifter, pickpocket, and hacker. She wasn’t GI Jane by any measure, and though her deficiencies made her hesitate, they didn’t make her useless. She wanted to help MacLain, was adamant, actually. But how? Every plan she formulated looked a lot like getting herself killed.

Chapter Three
    Marnie took in her surroundings. The storm was loud, and the floodlights were shining into the woods, hopefully blinding those looking through scopes aimed in the cabin’s direction. Dane was nowhere to be seen. When Marnie reached the long grass, a full twenty yards from the cabin, she was out of breath and her heart was racing from the exertion. The wound at her side burned like hellfire and was sapping her energy. Gunfire exploded, she froze, trying to calculate where the rounds were coming from. She guessed the woods beyond the field, directly across from the cabin, but didn’t have the courage to stand up and see for sure. So she lay there, afraid. What’s your goal, Marnie? Lying here sure as shit wasn’t doing anything.
    Then she saw two laser-scope beams aim at a target fifty yards ahead. Damn. Was that MacLain’s baseball cap? She panicked, afraid he was a sitting duck. Shoring up her courage, she took aim at the origin of the lasers and pulled the trigger over and over again. The return fire was a surprise.
    Suppressing a scream, Marnie rolled to the right, and didn’t stop until she hit a tree at the wood’s edge. Getting her feet beneath her, she ran deeper, tripped over a wire, and was horrified to see the area light up like the Fourth of July. She