drew each one from the envelope: “Billiards room…knife…Mrs. White.”
A beat passed, and then I tossed the cards in the air. “Oh my God, I won! I beat you, Adam.”
Adam shook his head, but was smiling the whole time. He leaned across the board, cupped my chin, and kissed the tip of my nose. “Good game,” he murmured as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.
“Do you want to play again?” I asked.
It was midafternoon, and there was a light snow falling. The temperatures were dropping, so it appeared we’d be staying indoors the remainder of the day.
Adam nodded. “Sure”—he glanced to the waning fire in the fireplace—“but let me grab more wood from outside before the snow picks up.”
“Sounds good, I’ll reset the game.”
I began placing the different-colored playing pieces on their respective starting spaces, while, as per the usual routine, Adam worked to secure his .45 into the back of his jeans. Once that task was done, he opened the front door.
A cold wind blew in.
I watched Adam walk out to the porch, firearm visible, and sighed. Some days it was easy to forget why we were at this safe house, but the gun Adam kept nearby at all times served to harshly remind me he was in danger, always. We both were.
Just as I started to shuffle the cards, I heard the approach of a car, tires crunching through the snow and thick ice. Someone was pulling up to the house.
“What the…” I murmured to myself.
It was a Thursday, and Erin wasn’t due to visit until Friday afternoon. So who was pulling up to the cabin?
I stood up and hurried to the door, concerned for Adam. And the exact second I was reaching for the doorknob, a single shot pierced the silence.
What the hell!
Panicked, I swung the front door open and took a single step out onto the porch. And that’s where I froze as I took in the scene before me.
Adam was on the porch, in a shooter’s stance, gun at the ready, while Erin crouched behind her car, taking cover from Adam’s warning shot. The agent’s voice rang out in the wintry stillness of the landscape, but I couldn’t discern what the hell she was saying.
I gawked at Adam. “God, Adam, what are you doing?”
Had he lost his mind?
Adam threw me a quick sidelong glance, frowning. “Maddy, get back inside,” he hissed.
Erin meanwhile, from behind her car, was shouting for Adam to put the gun down and listen. I couldn’t imagine a single good reason why Adam would fire at Agent Lenehan, his trusted Boston contact. But then I saw movement next to her and realized she wasn’t alone.
I squinted, and holy shit, I recognized the person who was with her.
Now I knew why Adam was firing. He wasn’t shooting at Erin. Adam was shooting at the person with her—Stowe Hannigan.
Yeah, there was no mistaking the dirty-blond hair, very wide shoulders, and boyishly handsome face of the man who was hiding just under the line of the hood of the car. The man crouching next to Agent Lenehan was definitely Stowe Hannigan.
But what in the hell was Stowe doing here at the safe house? And why was he with Erin ? More interestingly, why wasn’t he shooting back?
Not that I wanted him to—dear God, no—but his job, after all, was to assassinate Adam.
Or was it?
I wasn’t sure anymore, as Stowe sure wasn’t making any moves to see the directive to kill Adam Ward to completion.
Adam walked slowly backward, nearing the door but never wavering with the gun.
When he was next to me, he said once again, “Get in the house, Madeleine.”
His voice was low and even, but I knew he was steaming mad.
Before I could comply—or not—Erin yelled, “Adam, listen, Stowe is working with us. He has been for a while…I just couldn’t say anything.”
Well, that explained Erin’s odd behavior every time Stowe’s name had been mentioned.
“Please, Adam, put the gun down,” she continued. “You know I wouldn’t have brought Stowe here if he was a danger to you.”
Adam kind of chuckled,
A beat passed, and then I tossed the cards in the air. “Oh my God, I won! I beat you, Adam.”
Adam shook his head, but was smiling the whole time. He leaned across the board, cupped my chin, and kissed the tip of my nose. “Good game,” he murmured as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.
“Do you want to play again?” I asked.
It was midafternoon, and there was a light snow falling. The temperatures were dropping, so it appeared we’d be staying indoors the remainder of the day.
Adam nodded. “Sure”—he glanced to the waning fire in the fireplace—“but let me grab more wood from outside before the snow picks up.”
“Sounds good, I’ll reset the game.”
I began placing the different-colored playing pieces on their respective starting spaces, while, as per the usual routine, Adam worked to secure his .45 into the back of his jeans. Once that task was done, he opened the front door.
A cold wind blew in.
I watched Adam walk out to the porch, firearm visible, and sighed. Some days it was easy to forget why we were at this safe house, but the gun Adam kept nearby at all times served to harshly remind me he was in danger, always. We both were.
Just as I started to shuffle the cards, I heard the approach of a car, tires crunching through the snow and thick ice. Someone was pulling up to the house.
“What the…” I murmured to myself.
It was a Thursday, and Erin wasn’t due to visit until Friday afternoon. So who was pulling up to the cabin?
I stood up and hurried to the door, concerned for Adam. And the exact second I was reaching for the doorknob, a single shot pierced the silence.
What the hell!
Panicked, I swung the front door open and took a single step out onto the porch. And that’s where I froze as I took in the scene before me.
Adam was on the porch, in a shooter’s stance, gun at the ready, while Erin crouched behind her car, taking cover from Adam’s warning shot. The agent’s voice rang out in the wintry stillness of the landscape, but I couldn’t discern what the hell she was saying.
I gawked at Adam. “God, Adam, what are you doing?”
Had he lost his mind?
Adam threw me a quick sidelong glance, frowning. “Maddy, get back inside,” he hissed.
Erin meanwhile, from behind her car, was shouting for Adam to put the gun down and listen. I couldn’t imagine a single good reason why Adam would fire at Agent Lenehan, his trusted Boston contact. But then I saw movement next to her and realized she wasn’t alone.
I squinted, and holy shit, I recognized the person who was with her.
Now I knew why Adam was firing. He wasn’t shooting at Erin. Adam was shooting at the person with her—Stowe Hannigan.
Yeah, there was no mistaking the dirty-blond hair, very wide shoulders, and boyishly handsome face of the man who was hiding just under the line of the hood of the car. The man crouching next to Agent Lenehan was definitely Stowe Hannigan.
But what in the hell was Stowe doing here at the safe house? And why was he with Erin ? More interestingly, why wasn’t he shooting back?
Not that I wanted him to—dear God, no—but his job, after all, was to assassinate Adam.
Or was it?
I wasn’t sure anymore, as Stowe sure wasn’t making any moves to see the directive to kill Adam Ward to completion.
Adam walked slowly backward, nearing the door but never wavering with the gun.
When he was next to me, he said once again, “Get in the house, Madeleine.”
His voice was low and even, but I knew he was steaming mad.
Before I could comply—or not—Erin yelled, “Adam, listen, Stowe is working with us. He has been for a while…I just couldn’t say anything.”
Well, that explained Erin’s odd behavior every time Stowe’s name had been mentioned.
“Please, Adam, put the gun down,” she continued. “You know I wouldn’t have brought Stowe here if he was a danger to you.”
Adam kind of chuckled,
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