Guns and the Girl Next Door. HelenKay Dimon

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      And now someone was violating the safety zone he’d created, using more than three thousand pounds of automobile as a weapon to do it.

      He scrambled off the cushion and grabbed for the gun in his side table. He hit the floor on his right shoulder just as the sedan smacked through his front door. The crashing boom rattled the cabin’s foundation.

      The wood creaked and splintered. Studs crumbled. The lights dimmed as the exposed wires fell from the smashed ceiling panels and pushed the electricity nearly to the breaking point.

      With dust flying and pieces of furniture scattered everywhere, Holden sat still, his back to what was left of the couch and his gun aimed at the bowed head in the front seat of the car. Long blond hair mixed with the broken windshield glass even as the white-knuckled grip continued its hold on the steering wheel.

      His attacker was a she.

      And possibly dead.

      She also didn’t have an air bag, which he found odd. Not that any part of the past two minutes had been normal.

      Slow and as quiet as a man of his size could manage, he jumped to his feet. The muzzle didn’t waver. Neither did his stare. If she moved, he’d be ready to shoot.

      Glass crunched under his feet as he approached the front of the car. The house alarm blared, but Holden tuned it out. His focus centered on her. Whoever “her” was.

      “Lift your head.” He issued the order in his best you’re a dead woman tone.

      Nothing.

      To keep from going deaf, he headed for the alarm. Shifting around the side of the car and keeping his body square with the mystery driver, he reached out to disarm the thing. He lifted his hand and felt nothing but the cool March night air.

      Snow hadn’t fallen in Northern Virginia this week, but the crisp smell signaled what could be a final winter blast. Now that he lacked a front wall, that was going to be a problem.

      Glancing down, he traced his foot through the debris littering what was once a shiny hardwood floor. No sign of the panel, but he did spy his keys. As he leaned down to grab the chain, the driver’s head popped up.

      She screamed loud enough to make his ears shrivel.

      The shriek echoed inside his brain, drowning out the annoying sound of the alarm. In two seconds, he hit the code on his key chain to stop the electronic screeching. At the same time, he leveled the gun at the woman’s forehead in an attempt to quiet her.

      “Stop,” he ordered.

      “Wh-what…?”

      “Do not move.” When she tried to open her door, he lifted his foot and kicked it shut on her again. “Hey!”

      “You’re not listening. Stay right there.”

      Her hand shook as she pressed it to her forehead.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Setting the ground rules.”

      The skin at corners of her eyes wrinkled. “What?”

      “This is my house.”

      She shook her head and then grabbed it. “I don’t understand,” she said in a voice rough with what sounded like pain.

      He didn’t know what to believe. Hard to trust a woman who used his family room as a parking lot.

      “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he mumbled.

      Her gaze shot to the gun and then back at his face. “Who are you?”

      The look of wild-eyed panic had him thinking she might actually not know, but he wasn’t taking the chance. “We’re going to focus on my questions first. What are you doing here?”

      “I…” Turning her head with a careful slowness that suggested an injury, she looked around the inside of the car. She glanced up and over the wheel as if noticing for the first time the damage around her. “Did I crash?”

      The stuttering tone and dropped jaw were nice touches. Added to the sham.

      Holden didn’t buy any of it. “Uh, yeah. That’s one way of putting it.”

      “Where am I?”

      “In the middle of my family room. Now, tell me your name.”

      “Mia Landers.” She shifted her upper body and winced.

      His elbows locked. “Stay right there.”

      “I need to get up.”

      “Are you hurt, Mia?”

      She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

      Not exactly the answer he expected. “It’s a simple question. Yes or no?”

      “Not really.”

      He gave her two options and she picked a third. Interesting. “What does that mean?”

      “I’m kind of numb.”

      Shock. Assassin or bad driver, he still wasn’t sure but he did know she probably needed medical attention. “Open the door nice and slow.”

      She stared down at her lap. “I can’t…”

      From the glassy stare it looked as if his unwanted guest was losing it and fast. He stepped closer and followed her gaze to her legs. Minimal blood and room to move around under the dash, as far as he could tell. Just in case the stunned unblinking stare was a ruse, he didn’t let up.

      “Let’s get out now.” He slipped his hand under the handle and opened the door for her. When she tried to get out without taking off her seat belt, he reached in and did the deed for her. “Here you go.”

      Hands shaking, hair hanging in front of her eyes, she turned to the side and got one foot out of the car. On her first attempt to get up her knees buckled and her butt hit the leather seat hard.

      Taking a long look, visually searching every part of her he could see for weapons, Holden gave in and tucked his gun in the small of his back. As gently as possible, he slid one arm between her back and the seat and tugged her out of the car, doing a subtle pat down in the process. A person couldn’t be too safe in a situation like this.

      Her legs wobbled and every inch of her trembled, but she managed to stumble to her feet with him for support. “Oh, man.”

      “You okay?” he asked when he had her on her feet, standing near what once was his front door.

      “I think so. My head hurts but not too bad.” She wiped an unsteady hand through her hair. Her fingers snagged on leaves and a few pieces of cubed glass. “How did I get here?”

      “I was wondering that same thing.” He guided her to his couch that was just about the only piece of nearby furniture СКАЧАТЬ