Jaeda?” Teague asked, still in his bedroom as she sprinted down the hallway. Jaeda didn’t slow. Taking the stairs two at a time, she followed the sound of a woman’s scream and a man shouting. Teague’s footfalls echoed on the steps as she raced toward the back of the manor. Gun in hand, she burst through a closed swinging door and found the kitchen. The woman from the sleigh stood in the center of the huge room with water dripping from her hair and clothes. On the floor, a man knelt with most of his body concealed inside a tiny closet, his rear end and the soles of his shoes the only parts in view. “I think I’ve got it,” he yelled, his voice hollow, like he spoke into a tin can. Teague slapped Jaeda on the back with the door as he came through, and she tucked her gun into the pocket of her robe. Glad to see he had taken a moment to cover himself, she stepped aside and willed her pulse to slow. A spout of water shot from the closet and barely missed the cook. She screamed anyway.
