Under Threat by B.J. Daniels (reading the story of the .TXT) 📕

Bennet sighed. “If they get something in the arson investigation, some kind of clue, you might have a few more days. But if there isn’t a shred of evidence, and there never has been before, he’s going to want you back right away.”

Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache, and swore.

“Relax. I’ll do what I can to get you more time. The arson report comes up empty, I’ll make sure it gets lost in red tape for a few days, best I can.”

“Thanks.”

“You really think The Stallion has something to do with Torres’s missing sister?”

Vaughn blew out a breath. “I think it’s more than possible. You?” Because he had to know it wasn’t just his feelings for Natalie clouding that gut feeling.

“Yeah, man. I do. Herman talking about keeping the girls... I keep going back to that. Gotta be something there. Something that got Herman killed.”

“Yeah. Well, I’ll be waiting for an email.”

“Later. Stay safe.”

Vaughn turned to face the door of his room and then paced. He wouldn’t tell Natalie anything until he had the arson report. Everything hinged on that, and he hated the idea that there would be nothing in it. Just like there was always nothing in all of these cases.

Maybe it was hopeless. Maybe they should head back. He’d find a way to keep an eye on her, but maybe, in the end, this had all been an overreaction. A mistake.

Then he heard the crash.

Natalie was brooding. She tried to talk herself out of the brood, but that never worked. Certainly not when there was emotional brooding, and sexually frustrated brooding, and her-life-was-a-mess-and-she-was-worried-about-sex brooding.

She should be looking at Vaughn’s computer, poring over the trafficking case, finding commonalities. Anything but staring at the wall reliving that kiss over and over again. Because it wasn’t going to happen again.

So, why not relive it if that’s all you’re going to get?

She pushed off the couch in a fit of annoyance. The few times her personal life interfered with her happiness, she’d been able to throw herself into the minutiae of Gabby’s case. Whether it was because Vaughn was now hooked up in Gabby’s case, or he was somehow that much more potent than all her other personal problems, nothing about drowning herself in her sister’s case was appealing.

But what else was there to do in this godforsaken landscape? She was stuck in this cabin while Vaughn soundly slept in his room. Jerk.

She glared down the hallway as if she glared hard enough, he might feel her ire. Not that it would matter. He wasn’t going to do anything about it, was he? And neither was she, because the sleeping jerk was right. So torturing herself over it was downright—

She heard the distant sound of...something, so incongruous to the quiet she’d been living in for the past days. Though the sound immediately stopped, Natalie knew she’d heard something, and it wasn’t coyotes this time. Whatever the sound had been, it was distinctly mechanical. Like a car.

Before she had a chance to even think about what to do, she was already moving toward the hallway, moving toward Vaughn. But a sudden crash caused her to jerk in surprise so violently that she stumbled. She fell to her hands and knees and looked back at the front of the house where the crash had come from.

The sound repeated, and she saw the door shake just as Vaughn entered the hallway.

“Stand up and get behind me. Now.”

She scrambled to her feet and did as he ordered, the grim set to his mouth and the icy cold in his gaze crystalizing the fact this wasn’t a mistake or a random animal this time. Fear jittered through her, much like it had in the gas station when she’d been at the mercy of those strange men, and all she could do was shake and listen to Vaughn.

He had his weapon drawn, and the minute she was close enough, he jerked her behind him.

“No matter what happens, you stay behind me. Got it?”

“But—” She could think of a hundred scenarios where she would have to not stand behind him, but before she could voice any of them, another crash shook the door. She had a feeling that it would only take one more harsh blow for it to open.

“What are these morons doing?” he muttered. He held his gun at shoulder level, but his other arm was extended behind him, keeping her in the box of his arm and the wall.

With absolutely no warning, he spun and shot his weapon, right over her shoulder. A thud sounded, and then a wounded grunt, and when Natalie caught up enough with the whirlwind of action and looked behind them, she saw a large man’s body slumped on the floor.

“Diversion,” he muttered, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the man’s body.

Vaughn kept her behind him as he approached the man who was gurgling and thrashing and reaching for a gun he’d apparently dropped. Vaughn kicked it out of his reach easily.

“Pick it up, Natalie. Train it at the front door. Anyone walks in, you shoot.”

Natalie tried to agree, to nod, but she stood there shell-shocked and shaking, and—

“Natalie.” This time Vaughn spared her a glance. “You can do it. You have to do it. All right?”

It steadied her. Not that she stopped shaking or stopped being afraid, but it gave her something to hold on to, something to focus on, and she managed to grab the man’s gun with shaking fingers.

“Put your back to mine.”

“I don’t—”

“Turn around, look at the door and lean your back against mine. From here on out, you don’t move unless I do. We’re always touching, unless I say otherwise.” He said the command low, and the man flailing about on the floor probably could have heard it, but he seemed pretty preoccupied with the bullet wound in his shoulder.

Natalie blew out a breath and did