Keeping to the shadows, Kye made his way, boots sinking to the ankles in fresh drifts, to the back of the bunkhouse before the lights went out a second time. He knew the generator was right behind the bunkhouse because it had been revving up the night like a lawn mower on steroids. Suddenly the motor coughed, sputtered, and died, leaving the shock of silence. The house and all the buildings on Harmonie Kennels’ property went dark.
Heart slamming against his ribs, Kye turned with gun in hand expecting to encounter the saboteur who’d shut down the generator. But nothing moved in the cold, blank darkness. Even the snow could no longer be seen, only heard as it whispered past his face. He pressed his back against the building and waited for his eyes to adjust. As he expected, gradually a light source appeared in the twenty-yard space between the main house and the guesthouse. The security light was still on in the front driveway. It swept a clean white arc through the snow, stopping just short of the tree line where the ground began to climb steeply to the hillside not far from the back the house.
He waited, listening so hard he heard the blood roaring in his ears, for any sign that he had been spotted. There was someone out here with him who wanted very badly to keep them contained. Why? Was he waiting for reinforcements, as Purdy had been? Or was he taking precautions to keep them off balance until he could determine how best to attack?
Nothing. Silence. Only his heartbeat for company.
Kye glanced back at the house. He thought about going back to protect Yardley. But the three of them penned together inside a house they could not adequately protect wasn’t a good idea, either. He needed supplies, something to fight back with. A stun grenade in hand sounded better and better.
He sent his gaze sweeping over the dark ridgeline, looking for any sign of a presence there. He’d seen the utility road halfway up the ridge this morning. But nothing penetrated the night.
After what seemed like forever but was only minutes, he forced himself to begin moving again. This time the crunch of ice under his boots sounded as loud in his ears as an ax splitting wood. His only protection was the dark. But he wasn’t a stealth panther prowling on silent paws. He was more like a buffalo stumbling along. The ground was uneven behind the bunkhouse, icier than where the new snow was accumulating.
Breathing through his mouth had several drawbacks. Not only was it unnatural—a mouth breather he wasn’t—but the icy air was drying out his mouth and his throat had begun to ache. Shit fire. He hated cold. He’d had enough already this season to last him a good long time. Skiing, my ass. He was going home, maybe to stay. At least until he was flambéed by the sun over every single inch of his body.
Finally he reached the end of the bunkhouse back wall. The shadows beyond were deeper where the NightWatcher security light was blocked by the building. Twenty feet ahead was the corner of the classrooms, his destination. He leaned out cautiously to check the side of the building for intruders.
And then he heard it. The sound of a door opening. Behind him. He whipped around and waited. He was certain he’d stopped breathing by the time a shadow appeared opposite the bunkhouse. The figure moved cautiously but much more quietly than he had. Long. Lean. Something familiar in those movements.
Well hell.
He ducked back behind the side of the bunkhouse and waited. Just in case his eyes were fooling him. He wasn’t dressed for the weather. Already his hands were beginning to ache from the cold. The gun in his hand burned his palm, the cold steel giving the false impression of warmth. But he didn’t pocket it. Not when he didn’t know who or what was out here with him.
As the figure came even with the edge of the building, he grabbed and slammed his follower back against the wall, simultaneously pressing a hand to the mouth as he jabbed his gun into the middle. It took only a second to confirm what he suspected but could not trust. He had Yardley jammed between the wall and the weight of his body. He dropped his hand.
“Fuck.” It was all he could think of that was appropriate as he stared into her frightened face.
“Kye?” Her breath came back unevenly. “Thank God.”
He pulled the gun out of her middle and pushed her back into the dark shadows behind the building. And then he found his voice again.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Helping you.” He couldn’t see her face any longer, but he didn’t have to. He recognized that squinty-eyed tone anywhere.
“Help—” He was at a loss for words again. Finally, Yardley had struck him dumb. He peeled his body away from hers slowly, looking back past her shoulder, as if expecting she had brought along company. The long strip of darkness was empty. Beyond, fresh swirls of snow tumbled more thickly than before in the broad white expanse of the security light.