Page 33 of Tangled Past
He didn’t move closer; he didn’t need to. The moment was there between them anyway—unsteady, fragile, real.
Then a sound cut through it.
A sharp, metallic ping. Asa froze for a second, and then the window exploded.
Glass shattered inward in a spray of glittering shards. Maya screamed, flinching as the mug flew from her hands, and hot coffee splashed across the blanket. Asa moved without thinking, throwing himself toward her, tackling her down behind the couch as another gunshot split the air.
“Stay down!” he told her as cold air rushed in through the torn curtain, carrying snow and the acrid scent of burned gunpowder.
Maya clutched his jacket with both fists, her breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts. “Asa—”
“I’ve got you,” he said, one arm wrapping around her shoulders, the other reaching for the weapon holstered at hisside. “Stay low. Don’t move.” He thumbed the safety off and kept his body angled between her and the broken window.
Rachel flung the door open and rushed inside while keeping low. “Angle came from the tree line at the side yard. I didn’t see a muzzle flash.”
Asa retrieved his phone. “JT, report.”
“I’m here,” JT responded from his phone. “We heard the shots. Will’s already moving. Stay inside. Keep her down. We’ll sweep the perimeter.”
“Copy.” Asa ended the call.
Maya flinched as another gust of wind drove snow through the broken window. Glass crunched under Asa’s boots when he shifted to put more of his body between her and the opening.
“Asa?” she whispered. “Is he trying to get in?”
“If he wanted to rush the house, he’d already be at the door.” Asa stopped and forced his voice to stay even. “He’s reminding us he can reach you wherever we take you.”
Outside, a voice cut through the night—Will Kelly, shouting commands. JT’s reply, lower, urgent. The crunch of boots over snow. The crackle of Will’s radio as he called for backup, for units to converge on the west bluff, for the road above to be sealed.
Rachel crawled closer. “Either of you hit?” Her eyes swept over Maya and then Asa.
Maya glanced down at herself, then at Asa. Her hands shook harder. “I don’t . . . think so.”
Asa did a quick check—no crimson blooming on the blanket, no immediate sting of a wound. He exhaled once, gratitude filling him. “Glass got in your hair.” He brushed a stray shard away from the edge of her curls. “But nothing else.”
“The shot,” she whispered. “It sounded like the crack in the barn.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re here. You’re not in the barn.”
“I feel like I am. Every time I hear that sound, I feel four again.”
Rachel’s expression softened. “That’s trauma doing what trauma does. Your body remembers the danger before your brain catches up.”
“He knows that,” Maya said. “He knows what the gunshot will do to me.”
Rachel’s jaw tightened. “Then he can choke on his tactics. They’re not going to work forever.”
The door opened. A second later, JT stopped next to the sofa where they crouched with his weapon in hand. “Will’s running the tree line. Whoever it was is either gone or playing possum. There have been no more shots since the first volley. Everyone okay?”
“We’re fine,” Asa assured him.
JT scanned the damage. “We’ll board that up and move you to the back room until we’re sure he’s not circling.”
Chief Kelly’s voice drifted in from outside, clipped and angry. “Tracks!” he called. “Two sets. One coming in, one going out. He didn’t stick around.”
“Asa?” Maya whispered. “If he can hit the window from the tree line, is there anywhere I’m actually safe?”
“Yes. Right here with us. He’s firing from a distance because he doesn’t want to risk getting close. That tells us something.”
