Cornered. HelenKay Dimon

the real police chief?”

      “You need to stop asking questions and listen.” The guy used a man-to-man tone, as if they were having a chat about everyday things. “You have five seconds before me and my men tear this place apart and grab the woman. Then we’ll see how fast you talk.”

      “I’m looking forward to seeing that.” The third man stepped in from a room in the back.

      Cam guessed he had found a window. Didn’t really matter how he got there. Problem was, the odds had just switched to three against one. Not impossible but not his favorite. It meant he’d have to kill two and take his chances with the third.

      He had to stop the chief first. “One more step and I snap your man’s neck.”

      “You think I care?” He brought up his gun and fired.

      The shot exploded in front of Cam. He felt a jerk and then the man he was holding fell at full weight against Cam’s chest. He dropped him with a thud to the floor and came up firing. He nailed the one in the hallway in the shoulder and knocked him back. The chief dived to the side and Cam dropped down as he scrambled around the couch.

      The scene moved in slow motion, but Cam knew it took only a few deafening seconds. As shots continued to ring out, he blocked the hammering of adrenaline through his body and the grunts and heavy breathing filling the room.

      He turned to get off a covering shot and took a quick inventory: one dead guy on the floor and the chief missing. The wounded shooter stood in that back room and fired random shots into the family room that kept Cam ducking. He was about to take a diving shot when he saw the crawl-space door drop. Not the whole way but enough to be noticed if anyone was looking.

      The creak of the hinges had the shooter looking up. It was the distraction Cam needed. The guy shifted just enough to aim his gun into the dark hole, and Cam fired. Nailed him in the head this time and sent him crashing into the wall and then sprawling to the floor.

      Cam jumped to his feet and searched the family room and kitchen. The place looked like a war zone. Shot-up walls and broken glass. A shredded curtain and papers scattered everywhere. He didn’t even know where half the stuff came from.

      But a clear inside didn’t mean they were safe. He checked the porch and scanned the front of the property for any signs of the fake chief fleeing into the woods but didn’t see anything, including the truck that had been out there a few minutes ago.

      “Julia?” He didn’t bother whispering or covering. The men knew she was there and now all but the fake chief lay dead on her floor. “Talk to me.”

      When she didn’t say anything he stalked to the end of the hall and looked up. The gun appeared first, then her face. “That was pretty awful.”

      Her voice shook, but she wasn’t throwing up, so he took that as a good sign. “Are you hurt?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      The shaking grew stronger and he worried about shock. “Any chance you could be more definitive?”

      “My legs are never going to hold me to come down again. Maybe I’ll just live up here.” She glanced down at the guy lying below her, and her eyes widened. “Did you... Is he dead?”

      “Very.” And Cam didn’t want her staring at the guy. Nothing good could come out of that. He tucked his gun into his waistband and picked a position that had her looking at him and away from the still body.

      But she was already glancing over his head. “You killed two?”

      “One. The guy in uniform took out his own guy and got away. So much for loyalty.” Cam lifted his hands and caught her, easing her to the floor and not letting go until she found her equilibrium. “You need to grab a bag and change your clothes, or at least your shirt.”

      “Why?”

      “You can’t stay here.” He pointed around the room. “This is a mess and I don’t know why the guy was shooting, so I need you off Calapan.”

      “Normally I’d get indignant and tell you not to order me around, but I’m okay with it this time.” She handed his gun back to him.

      He slipped it into the back waistband of his pants. “I knew you were smart.”

      “We need to get to the ferry.” She wiped her hands on her thighs and blew out a long breath. “We can take my truck.”

      Looked as though she had more bad news in front of her. He winced. “Was it blue?”

      “Was?”

      Cam didn’t see a vehicle outside. Unless she had a secret hiding place, they could add another criminal charge to the fake chief’s list. “The one who got away took it.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding?”

      In light of the past few minutes, the response struck him as overblown. Probably had something to do with the reaction to violence. She didn’t double over or hide in a corner, but she did latch on to odd things. He could handle that. “I’m thinking a stolen car is not the worst thing to happen to you today.”

      “It’s a two-mile walk to the ferry and we only have four a day. We miss it and we’re trapped here. On this island.”

      The bad news just kept coming. He pushed aside his plans to hunt the shooter down and focused on this problem. There was only one solution—call in the cavalry.

      He glanced at his watch and pushed the button. The one that sent an emergency signal out to the rest of the men. “We’ll rendezvous with my team and get you to safety.”

      “Alive?” She managed to load that one word with a heap of sarcasm.

      He didn’t let her tone derail him. “My promise to do everything to keep you safe still stands.”

      “I’m holding you to it.” She stared at him as if needing further reassurance.

      He didn’t have anything other than his word, which was pretty damn solid, so he nodded. “Good.”

       Chapter Three

      Julia led him through the woods. The trees soared above their heads, blocking the late-afternoon sun and casting a chill over her. Light filtered through the branches and spots of sunshine highlighted parts of the rough terrain, but for the most part they had to rely on her sense of direction as a guide.

      As a kid she’d used the forest area as a playground. There she could hide from her father’s alcohol-fueled rages and all the yelling. She’d breathe in the scent of the wet ground mixed with pine and be surrounded by calm, if only for a short time.

      Being there now qualified as the exact opposite of calm. Her stomach tumbled and her nerves jingled, making her jump at every little sound. The chirping birds and the swishing as the wind blew the leaves around, usually soothing, just had her twitching.

      Cam walked next to her, keeping their pace brisk. Every time she stumbled over roots or overturned rocks, his arm shot out and he steadied her. She appreciated the assist but really just wanted to get on a ferry and head for Seattle. Her father’s estate and the selling of the house could wait. She’d figure out the truck and how to remove dead bodies later.

      She shivered at the thought. When her brain hiccuped over the destruction and seeing all that blood, she turned to the very real issue that she had to let someone in authority know. That would lead to questions she couldn’t answer and the possibility of getting in trouble.

      But the police could question her in her small apartment back in her Belltown neighborhood, because she was officially done with Calapan Island. This time forever, because nothing and no one bound her there now.

      The place was gorgeous but had never been anything more than a scary death trap for her. That used to be metaphorical in many ways;