Fan the Flames Read Online Free PDF

opening the door in the enclosed back room, she didn’t want to chance any light seeping out and alerting her intruder that she was on the move. Panic was her enemy. She needed to keep calm and do what she had to do with a clear head.
    At the top of the stairs, she paused to check the monitor set to the left of the steel door. The screen was divided into four sections, each showing a different angle of the shop, front and back. Everything looked quiet, so she unfastened the dead bolt locks with shaking fingers and let herself into the back room, closing the steel door and pushing the camouflaging shelving back into place.
    After disabling the alarm, she took a minute to slide into her coat and hat. Her aim wouldn’t be improved if she was shivering with cold as well as nerves. She picked up a small flashlight from the shelf by the door and slid it into her left coat pocket before she unbolted the multiple locks on the back door and slipped outside, Jack close on her heels.
    The wind slapped her immediately, peppering her exposed skin with sharp flecks of snow. She tucked her hands in her pockets, her right one still holding the Python, and her left fingers wrapped around the flashlight.
    Instead of heading for the front gate, she followed the line of pine trees past the greenhouse and chicken coop, allowing the shadows to help hide her from any watchful eyes. Her footfalls were almost silent, except for the slightest crunch as her boots compressed the frozen snow, and her heartbeat was thudding in her ears. Deep, even breaths didn’t help. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Rory was flat-out scared. She may have been prepared and well-armed, but she was just one person sitting on an arsenal every criminally minded group in the area would kill to get their hands on.
    The waxing moon was almost at the halfway point, casting an eerie blue light that was reflected by the windblown drifts of snow. She circled around the pole barn that housed her vehicles but then hesitated, reluctant to leave the shelter of the trees for the more dubious cover of the wooden walls. Fifty feet separated the pole barn from the west fence line—fifty feet of exposure, fifty feet in which she’d present a clear target to anyone hiding in the trees beyond the fence.
    Her fingers tightened around the grip of her revolver. She needed to move . She could imagine her father’s disappointment if he were still alive, the impatient push he’d give her to break her paralysis. Shaking off all thoughts of militia snipers and fatal gunshot wounds, Rory forced herself into the open space surrounding the pole barn.
    That first step was the hardest. Keeping her body low, she moved quickly but quietly, as she’d been taught, until she was standing in the narrow shadow cast by the pole barn. The darkness that pooled around the pines could easily hide someone—or multiple someones—from view. Rory waited, trying to be patient, her eyes trained on the line of trees. Nothing moved. Besides the wind, there was no sound. The human-shaped shadow in the camera feed started to feel more and more like a figment of her paranoid brain.
    Her heart didn’t agree, though. If anything, it beat even faster.
    Rory glanced at Jack. He’d settled next to her, lying in the snowdrift like it was a cushy, warm dog bed. His pricked ears were cautious, but he didn’t seem to be fixated on anything or anyone beyond the west fence. Still, she hesitated to leave her hiding place. But when an extra-cold, extra-strong gust of wind cut through her clothes to rake her skin, she shivered and stepped away from the pole barn.
    She half-expected the crack of a firearm, but there was nothing. She moved quickly across the exposed section until she reached the fence. Feeling almost as vulnerable next to the fence as she had walking across the snowdrifts, Rory hurried toward the gate, her eyes constantly scanning her surroundings.
    When she got