Bad Nights by REBECCA YORK Read Free Book Online Page A

to ask another question, he shook his head. “Not now. We have to get out of here before the others show up. And I have to let my partners know what’s going on. Do you have a working phone here?”
    â€œThe power was out last night.” She raised her head and looked toward the ceiling fixture. “I had that on last night. It hasn’t come back on.”
    He crossed to the phone and picked up the receiver, then snorted in disgust. “Dead. Where’s your cell phone?”
    â€œIt was out of power, and I was going to charge it,” she answered in an apologetic voice.
    â€œThen we’d better split. And let’s hope we have a little time to prepare.”
    â€œLike how?”
    â€œI found a couple of packs in the bedroom closet. Get a change of clothes. The same for me. And some water and food that’s easy to carry.”
    ***
    Morgan nodded and ran into the kitchen. As she grabbed some power bars, water, and more crackers and cheese, she could see he’d already helped himself to some food. Which made her wonder again if she could trust him and trust his story.
    And trust herself. She didn’t like the way she’d melted into his arms like a woman whose lover had just returned home. He wasn’t her lover. He was still a stranger. And more important, still dangerous. He’d gone after those two men like a fighting machine. But he’d been defending himself, and her, she reminded herself.
    And at the moment, the alternative to the man looked worse—if she believed his story. Opening one of the drawers, she took out a knife. Again she saw that he’d already raided the drawer. From the utility closet she grabbed another ground cloth.
    Her mind raced as she tried to think of what they’d need. Stuff she’d taken on camping trips. But not too much. Not more than they could easily carry.
    Her next stop was the bedroom, where she grabbed some clothing—for herself and for him.
    She saw he’d already set out two packs and a sleeping bag, further evidence that he’d been getting ready to leave when the men had showed up at the door. Now he’d changed his mind about going solo.
    She swallowed hard. His altered plans argued that he was telling the truth. It was too dangerous for her to stay here. Why else would he bring her along to slow him down?
    Unless the militia were the good guys, and he didn’t want her talking to them. She made a snorting sound. They hadn’t acted like good guys. More like thugs.
    Straining her ears, she listened for signs that men were sneaking up on the house. But it was quiet outside. Too quiet because she couldn’t even hear the birds who usually sang in the morning in the trees. Quickly she stuffed socks into one of the packs.
    â€œWe should go,” she called out.
    From out in the living room, she heard him swear. In the next second, the rattle of gunfire made her heart stop, then start up again in double time.
    Automatic weapons, it sounded like.
    â€œGet down,” Jack shouted as she heard bullets raking the wall and thudding into the door.
    She dropped to the floor, flattening herself and crossing her arms over her head to ward off the noise as more bullets tore into the front wall of the cozy vacation house that had suddenly been turned into a war zone.
    Oh Lord! Jack was in the living room.
    Raising her head, she called his name. “Are you all right?”
    When he didn’t answer, her heart leaped into her throat. The barrage stopped, and she heard glass breaking, then bullets from a handgun.
    He’d broken a window and returned fire. At least she knew that much, but she didn’t know if he’d been hit. And if he was still all right, how long could that last? He was only one man with a pistol against guys who had brought along much more powerful weapons.
    She hadn’t been sure what they were up against. Now she had a much better idea.
    She wormed her way to the