A gun! Brenna froze, terror choking her. She’d been careless, distracted. And now it was too late. “Time’s up, Fox.” His words mimicked Brenna’s thoughts, mocking her. And it was those words that tore her from her paralysis. Spinning desperately about, she slammed her heel into the attacker’s hand. His gun flew sideways. She swiveled in, grabbed his arm, and yanked him over the top of her bent body. He grunted. Nuf yowled, and Nate shouted. But Brenna delayed not a moment. Dodging in, she pounced atop the intruder, her hands drawn back and ready to strike lest he make the slightest move. “O’Shay!” Nathan yelled. “Are you all…” He switched the light on, and his words trailed off. “Call the police,” she gasped, her gaze not leaving the attacker for a moment. “What—” the villain began. “Shut up!” She repeated to Nathan, “Call the police!” “But…” “Not now. He may have another weapon.” “Another?” Nathan cleared his throat and stepped closer.
