Lover Beware

around her, telling her that he was awake.
    The creak came again, out of sync with the steady whine of the wind, as if someone were peeling corrugated iron from the roof.
    A chill ran the length of her spine. She could feel the coiled tension in Rider’s body. Another short, sharp creak practically made her jump out of her skin, and suddenly she was sure.
    “There’s someone on the roof.”
    “He’s in the ceiling.”
    A finger pressed on her lips, signaling quiet, then Rider slid from the bed and pulled on his jeans. Jane climbed out of bed and slid drawers open as quietly as she could, extracting underwear and a fresh shirt and shorts by feel. When she was dressed, Rider’s hand locked around hers.
    He bent his head and spoke close to her ear. “Stay here, so I know where you are.” He pressed a cold, smooth object into her hand, which she realized was his cell phone, which he must have had in his jeans pocket. “Call emergency services, and don’t let up until they dispatch a police cruiser. Get Tucker if you can. Tell him we’ve got his boy—if he’s interested.”
    Rider disappeared into the hallway, then just as quickly reappeared, flattening himself against the wall and motioning for her to get down. Jane ducked down beside the bed and began dialing, keeping an eye on the inky opening of the doorway as she strained to see in the darkness.
    A large shape coalesced out of the thicker shadows, and a weird elongated shape slid into the room. Cold welled in her stomach when she realized the strange shape was the barrel of a gun, and the reason it was so high was because the stock was resting against a man’s shoulder.
    There was a flurry of movement. A grunt erupted, followed by a vicious curse, then Michael’s figure merged with the intruder’s as he gripped the gun and wrenched it down. The detonation of the gun firing split the air with a flat crack, and a voice sounded in her ear, distant and disorientingly normal, so that it was long seconds before she registered that emergency services had picked up her call. Sweeping the panic from her mind, she answered the voice, holding a hand over her free ear to block the sound of the two men locked in combat.
    The fighting surged toward the bed as she gave her details to the operator. She shuffled back, crouching in the corner, keeping a wary eye on the struggle as the intruder fell back against her dressing table. Glass shattered, and he reeled to his feet and lunged at Rider. The edge of the bed caught Rider in the back of the knees, and he tumbled back, off balance, and rolled to the side, evading the charge by inches, and almost landing on Jane as she scrambled to the other side of the room. Rider gained his feet and the attacker came at him again, frighteningly fast, but instead of stepping in close, Rider took a step back and jerked the shadowy figure with him. This time the attacker landed on her dressing table chair and the dainty antique snapped like kindling as the two men went down on the floor.
    She heard the soggy thud of a fist connecting, a heavy grunt, then Jane darted forward and retrieved the gun, which had been dropped on the floor.
    Backing into the hallway, she slid the cell phone, which was still connected to emergency services, into her shorts pocket, and ran her hands over the weapon. She was almost certain it was a twenty-two, the same as her gun, which was under the bed. She didn’t want to use the weapon. She didn’t want to touch it, but the alternative was trying to get across the bedroom to retrieve hers without getting caught up in the fighting.
    Suppressing a shudder, she felt beneath the gun for the magazine. From the short length, she discerned that it probably held three shots, which meant, if it was fully loaded, that there were two left. She pulled the bolt into the firing position and heard a round slick into the chamber, then fitted the stock to her shoulder and aimed, but her target was a blurred whirl of muscle and shadows and the sheer savagery of the fight rendered the threat of the gun close to useless. The two men were so absorbed in the battle that they hadn’t noticed she had a gun trained on them, and the odds were that even if she did pull the trigger, she would hit Rider.
    Lowering the gun, Jane searched the room, which was gradually lightening, and spotted the battery lantern, which was now lying on its side by the wall, miraculously still intact. Setting the gun on the floor, she retrieved the