Security?

No. Carlos would have alerted him to anything like that.

Hunching down so he could move through deep-shadowed spots, Hunter shuffled farther around the house to determine what the intruder was after. He’d covered a hundred feet when he spotted a waist-high stone enclosure for a patio lined with bushes.

Staying close to the house in the deep shadow until he reached the wall, he peeked over the ledge to find two women talking.

One had a head of curly hair. Abbie.

The other was Gwen.

Someone who actually knew Gwen Wentworth had to wait months to get on her calendar. What had Abbie said to gain a private meeting when they’d never met?

Hunter kept track of the figure in the tree, who moved another branch higher. In a series of crab-shuffling steps, he moved close enough to listen to Abbie and Gwen. They sat on opposite sides of a small table facing each other.

Neither one looked happy.

“Are you threatening me?” Abbie asked Gwen.

What the hell had they been discussing? Hunter kept an eye on the figure in the tree. Paparazzi?

“No. Not me.” Gwen’s fingers gripped the wicker chair arms so tightly the fine bones on the back of her hand threatened to break the pale skin.

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Abbie pointed a threatening finger at Gwen. “I told you what I would do. Did you think I was kidding?”

“No, I don’t. Ask your mother. If she tells you-” Gwen shook her head. Her fingers tugged nervously at her lips.

Keeping track of the conversation, Hunter eyed the figure in the tree, who had stopped moving.

“She did.” Abbie dropped her hand. “Not intentionally. I found my mother’s diary. I know the players and I’m going after all of them.”

“Are you crazy?” Gwen asked with panic shaking her voice. “The Fras will-”

The Fras? That snatched Hunter’s gaze back to Gwen, who’d frozen and covered her mouth as if she’d said a forbidden word. Her chest jumped with panicked breaths.

Hunter took in the tree climber again, who seemed to be leaning forward in a-

“The who?” Abbie asked.

– shooting pose.

Gwen uncovered her mouth. “What? I thought… you don’t know? You said-” She jumped up, hands fisted.

A bright explosion of light burst from where the figure stood in the branches, then the boom followed.

The bullet struck Gwen high in the back, slamming her forward at Abbie, who screamed.

Hunter leaped over the wall.

Abbie’s wild gaze whipped around to him.

If he could get them to the ground the wall would block the shooter.

A second rifle explosion blasted the air.

Hunter landed on Gwen’s patio and kicked over the stained glass wall of candles, killing the closest light. He dove for Gwen, who had fallen on top of a screeching Abbie. Wrapping up both women, he rolled, his momentum taking them with him.

All three bodies hit the tile-covered patio. Hard.

Abbie’s next scream died in a pained umph.

No more shots rang out. Darkness fell over him with the comfort of a safety blanket.

But security would be everywhere within minutes if they recognized that noise as a gunshot.

His BAD teammates would.

The smell of fresh blood soaked the air. Hunter lifted up on an elbow and turned Gwen over onto her back, gauging her wound through his night vision. A dark stain spread across one shoulder of her designer dress. He checked her pulse. Steady. Reaching for the closest chair cushion, he unzipped the cover and folded the soft material into a thick pad he shoved beneath her gown.

Would that stop the blood flow long enough for medical care to reach her?

He pressed the heel of his hand on the padding. Seconds were disintegrating quicker than his chance of walking away from this mess clean.

What had Abbie gotten into?

She lay facedown on the cold tile. Not moving.

Hunter used his free hand to ease her over on her back.

She’d landed with her fist between the ground and her diaphragm, which had probably knocked the wind out of her.

Emotional stress interfered with her resuming normal breathing again. Abbie might be unconscious, but even her subconscious would be in a state of terror.

“Breathe, Abbie,” he whispered, gently rubbing her shoulder. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

Footsteps pounded toward the pool from the grounds.

The shooter?

Hunter couldn’t leave these women unprotected, even for the mission. He pulled Gwen’s dress strap over the wound padding to hold it in place and shoved to his feet. He wheeled to face the figure coming fast, ready to attack, but pulled up short at the sound of a familiar, “Fuck,” as Carlos jumped across the wall.

“What the hell’s going on?” Carlos was seconds ahead of everyone else only because the rest of the security hadn’t thought to head the way Hunter had gone.

His jolt of relief at Carlos showing up first vanished with impending discovery of Hunter’s presence. “Shooter in the second tallest tree at eleven o’clock, seventy yards from the outer wall of the patio, took out Gwen. Shoulder’s bleeding.”

Carlos dropped down next to Gwen, took one look, and pressed on the folded material to staunch the blood flow. He tucked his chin to his lapel and spoke low into a button that transmitted only to other BAD agents.

Hunter removed his monocular, his eyes now adjusted to the dim light filtering out from a lamp in the sunroom.

Abbie started wheezing like a squeak toy sucking air. Her chest heaved with strangled breaths. She struggled, jerking with spasms.

Fear would make every breath harder to draw.

He lowered his face close to her and whispered, “You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

She gasped once, then again, eyes opening wild with panic. She raised her arms to attack.

He grabbed her wrists, gently pushing her hands to her chest and shushing her. “Take it easy. Just breathe.”

“They’re coming,” Carlos warned. “You gotta go.”

Hunter moved his mouth next to Abbie’s ear so only she could hear. “Don’t tell anyone I was here. I saved you from that second shot. We’re even.”

He needed ten minutes alone with her to find out what she knew about how the Fras, Eliot’s sniper, and the attack on Gwen were related.

And how Abbie fit into all this.

“She conscious?” Carlos asked, indicating Abbie.

Hunter stared into her eyes. Answering “yes” would pull her into BAD’s network, where she might not surface again any time soon, or at all, and way out of Hunter’s reach.

Decisions, decisions.

“Not yet.” Hunter held his breath. His fingers gripped her arms gently, thumbs caressing her cold skin.

Her eyes flared, then her chest expanded sharply. She finally drew a hard-earned breath and exhaled. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

Had she even been lucid when he spoke to her?

“I called Puzzle Queen,” Carlos told him, indicating Rae, which meant he’d instituted an improvised backup plan. “She’s headed to the laundry room. Back through the sunroom and library-”

“I know the way.” Hunter took one last look at Abbie, wishing he could stay long enough to be sure she was safe, but the shooter had likely left and Carlos would protect her.

Security would pour into this private sanctuary in seconds.

Hunter shoved up and rushed into the library. Navigating by a memorized floor plan, he located a door hidden in one section of the mahogany paneled walls. The invisible doorway provided the household staff access without any need for them to travel through the mansion’s family areas.

Hopefully, the majority of the staff would be dealing with the party and not passing through this area. If anyone did, they’d wake up in here tomorrow morning with a headache.