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Authors: Kelly Ann Long
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bedroom door and had opened it to look inside. Mirroring their movement, I carefully crept around wall as Bud finally answered his phone.
Since it was two in the morning, he immediately asked, “Eve, what’s wrong?”
I prayed he’d hear me as I said as quietly as possible, “There are two burglars in my house. Get here now!” I disconnected the call and turned off the phone. Even if he hadn’t understood me, I knew he’d come check on me, especially if he called back and I didn’t answer my phone.
Not-Hank said, “It’s empty. Go to the next door.”
It took a second for his comment to register, then I realized he was talking about the spare bedroom.Empty? What was he talking about? Where was Vale?
Again, the front door blew in with the force of the wind, and I ducked quickly to the floor, hoping the end of the couch would block me from view.
“Dammit, I told you to shut the door. Can’t you do anything right, dumbass?” Not-Hank stalked toward the front door. A gust of wind caught the storm door, and it banged open again, startling me so I nearly jumped out of my skin. I had to get control over myself or I’d be dead meat if he turned around. The couch no longer blocked me from sight, and I couldn’t draw attention to myself by being so jumpy. I gripped my gun tighter and watched as he grabbed the knob.
Anger flowed through me as I recognized the man as one of the hunters who’d trespassed on my property several days ago. Mr. Good ‘ol Boy, the hunter with dark hair who’d tried to charm me into letting the two men look around the old house and grounds, was standing in my living room!
As the hunter was about to shut the door, a caterwauling scream sounded and a black blur of teeth and claws sprang forth and tackled the man to the floor. The intruder’s gun flew into my kitchen as he howled in pain and struggled against his attacker.
“ Hank ! Help me!” yelled the man on the floor. He screamed as his partner ran into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks.
Hank pointed his gun at the thing attacking his partner, aimed carefully and waited for an opening in the struggle to hit the growling thing trying to injure his partner.
Realizing I had to act while Hank was distracted, I fired my gun. My target had been the man’s thigh and my bullet hit home, just before Hank fired his gun. The sudden pain caused Hank’s shot to go high, out the open door and into the night.
“Ah! Shit, shit, shit!” Hank bellowed as he fell onto his side. He dropped his gun and grabbed his bloody thigh with both of his hands.
The man on the floor stopped shrieking suddenly, and the outdoor motion light turned off. I didn’t want to believe what I saw, though it was right in front of my eyes. A huge cougar stood over a now-silent, bloodied man.
Hank wailed and rolled around on the floor as I reached up and flipped on the living room light, revealing an ugly scene. As though he’d suddenly been zapped by electricity when I’d turned on the light, Hank got to his feet, grabbed his gun and staggered toward the door. As he tried to pass the big cat, the black cougar screamed an inhuman sound and swiped at him, ripping his shirt and tearing his flesh.
Hank yelled again as adrenaline kicked in. He threw himself out the storm door with such force the spring dislocated. Having become weak due to so much abuse in one night, the glass shattered. He limped his way across the lawn, leaving Mr. Good ‘ol Boy in my living room. Apparently, there was no loyalty between bad guys when faced with a cougar and a woman with a gun.
Time stood still as the cougar and I stared at each other while I remained crouched on the floor. The big cat opened his mouth to pant, revealing teeth that were covered in red, which I presumed was blood from the unmoving man on the floor.
He ran his tongue across his muzzle then stepped off the body and closer to the front door. He shook his paws the way cats do when they’ve stepped in
Since it was two in the morning, he immediately asked, “Eve, what’s wrong?”
I prayed he’d hear me as I said as quietly as possible, “There are two burglars in my house. Get here now!” I disconnected the call and turned off the phone. Even if he hadn’t understood me, I knew he’d come check on me, especially if he called back and I didn’t answer my phone.
Not-Hank said, “It’s empty. Go to the next door.”
It took a second for his comment to register, then I realized he was talking about the spare bedroom.Empty? What was he talking about? Where was Vale?
Again, the front door blew in with the force of the wind, and I ducked quickly to the floor, hoping the end of the couch would block me from view.
“Dammit, I told you to shut the door. Can’t you do anything right, dumbass?” Not-Hank stalked toward the front door. A gust of wind caught the storm door, and it banged open again, startling me so I nearly jumped out of my skin. I had to get control over myself or I’d be dead meat if he turned around. The couch no longer blocked me from sight, and I couldn’t draw attention to myself by being so jumpy. I gripped my gun tighter and watched as he grabbed the knob.
Anger flowed through me as I recognized the man as one of the hunters who’d trespassed on my property several days ago. Mr. Good ‘ol Boy, the hunter with dark hair who’d tried to charm me into letting the two men look around the old house and grounds, was standing in my living room!
As the hunter was about to shut the door, a caterwauling scream sounded and a black blur of teeth and claws sprang forth and tackled the man to the floor. The intruder’s gun flew into my kitchen as he howled in pain and struggled against his attacker.
“ Hank ! Help me!” yelled the man on the floor. He screamed as his partner ran into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks.
Hank pointed his gun at the thing attacking his partner, aimed carefully and waited for an opening in the struggle to hit the growling thing trying to injure his partner.
Realizing I had to act while Hank was distracted, I fired my gun. My target had been the man’s thigh and my bullet hit home, just before Hank fired his gun. The sudden pain caused Hank’s shot to go high, out the open door and into the night.
“Ah! Shit, shit, shit!” Hank bellowed as he fell onto his side. He dropped his gun and grabbed his bloody thigh with both of his hands.
The man on the floor stopped shrieking suddenly, and the outdoor motion light turned off. I didn’t want to believe what I saw, though it was right in front of my eyes. A huge cougar stood over a now-silent, bloodied man.
Hank wailed and rolled around on the floor as I reached up and flipped on the living room light, revealing an ugly scene. As though he’d suddenly been zapped by electricity when I’d turned on the light, Hank got to his feet, grabbed his gun and staggered toward the door. As he tried to pass the big cat, the black cougar screamed an inhuman sound and swiped at him, ripping his shirt and tearing his flesh.
Hank yelled again as adrenaline kicked in. He threw himself out the storm door with such force the spring dislocated. Having become weak due to so much abuse in one night, the glass shattered. He limped his way across the lawn, leaving Mr. Good ‘ol Boy in my living room. Apparently, there was no loyalty between bad guys when faced with a cougar and a woman with a gun.
Time stood still as the cougar and I stared at each other while I remained crouched on the floor. The big cat opened his mouth to pant, revealing teeth that were covered in red, which I presumed was blood from the unmoving man on the floor.
He ran his tongue across his muzzle then stepped off the body and closer to the front door. He shook his paws the way cats do when they’ve stepped in
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