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He put his shoulder to the door and pushed as Sheri stood too stunned to protest. He charged into
the house, slamming the door behind him.
She waited in the silence, alone and blinking in the darkness.
Chapter Sixteen
Sam stormed through the front door, giving a passing thought to how much easier it was to breach an
entryway without having to worry about explosives. That simplified things. He started to turn the
lights on, then hesitated. He d once seen a warehouse in Sadr City wired to explode the instant
someone flipped the light switch.
This is a suburban home, not a war zone.
Still, he couldn t be too careful. Not without knowing what the threat might be, and he knew there
was a threat. He could feel it in his bones.
He slipped one hand under the newly built entry table, retrieving the Marine-issued .45-caliber
Colt Close Quarter Battle Pistol from the secret compartment he d built there. He grabbed the night-
vision goggles he d stashed there, too, donning them in a quick, fluid motion.
He drew the gun to his chest, gripping it with both hands as he stepped toward the sharp corner
separating the living room and dining area. Adrenaline pulsed through him as he scanned the room,
keeping his breathing even so his hands stayed steady.
Who s here? he barked. Identify yourself now!
No reply.
He kept his elbows tucked in, both hands on the weapon as he leaned his body slightly toward the
interior of the room. His eyes sliced the dark space in vertical motion, moving from one end to the
other with meticulous precision.
All clear.
With his lead foot on the apex of the corner, he pivoted, scanning the dining area, keeping his eyes
in line with where he aimed. The gun was steady in his hands, as natural there as a glass of water or a
set of car keys. He peered into the dining room, mentally cataloging every chair, every napkin.
Nothing looked out of place. He studied the bouncy chairs, the crumpled baby bib on the counter,
the vase of half wilted flowers Sheri s parents had sent for her first day at work.
Sam turned again, semicircle complete. He crossed to the threshold of the kitchen, conscious of the
fatal funnel, of the danger that this could be the choke point for an ambush. His shoulders were tense,
but his grip on the tan metal of the pistol didn t waver. He scanned the kitchen, watching, waiting,
braced for the threat.
He pivoted back toward the bedrooms, toward potential danger. He kept his back to the wall,
approaching the boys room first.
He touched the door, noting the closed position. It was open when they left, he was sure of it.
Goddammit.
Sam gripped the handle, doing a soft check to see if it was locked. It wasn t. He drew his weapon
to close-contact firing position, ready to push the door open, braced to confront the intruder.
Sam? What the hell?
Sam spun around, stunned to see Lieutenant Limpdick standing in the doorway of the master
bedroom. His hands were behind his back, holding something. Did he have a weapon? Sam trained
the pistol on Limpdick s chest.
Get your hands where I can see them both of them right fucking now!
Limpdick s eyes fell to the firearm and went wide. He brought his hands in front of him. They held
a vase of red roses.
What the hell? Limpdick demanded, reaching out to flip on the hall light. Unarmed man, here.
Sam lowered his weapon, squinting at the roses in case it was a trap.
No trap. They were just flowers, nothing odd about them. He yanked off his night-vision goggles
and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden rush of light. Limpdick stood frozen, hands still
gripping the vase.
What the hell are you doing in here? Sam sputtered, reorienting himself to the situation. How
did you get in? And where the hell is your car?
Limpdick shook his head, his eyes still fixed on Sam s gun. A cab dropped me off. I wanted to
spend time with Sheri and the boys. He nodded at the pistol. Seriously what s going on here?
How the fuck did you get in? Answer me!
The door was unlocked. I just wanted to talk to my wife and see my boys.
Your ex-wife! Sam snapped. She s not your property, and neither is this house. You can t just
walk in here like you own the place. If I ever catch you trespassing again, I won t even bother calling
the cops. I ll blow your brains out and ask questions later.
Limpdick stared at the gun, studying it. Then he nodded once. Understood.
Sam glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see Sheri hadn t followed. She wouldn t be aware of
anything that had just transpired. He flipped the safety on the pistol and tucked it in the back of his
shorts, pulling his T-shirt over it.
I take home security and the safety of household members very seriously, Sam said.
No shit. Limpdick frowned. They teach you how to clear a room military-style in manny
school?
Yes. They re very thorough.
Limpdick raised an eyebrow. I may be a Navy man, but I know that Colt you re packing is the new
standard-issue weapon of choice for the Marine Corps. They made 10,000 of them last summer for
elite Special Ops troops, didn t they? Coyote brown, special release. And those night-vision goggles
those aren t the kind civilians buy at Walmart.
Sam stared him down, silent. He refused to acknowledge his cover was blown.
Limpdick shook his head. You re a Marine, aren t you? That s what this is about. Her brothers
sent you.
Sam gritted his teeth, but said nothing. If you have a problem with me, take it up with Mac.
I m not interested in talking to Mac. He lowered his hands, setting the roses on the hall table. I
showed up and found the door unlocked. I wanted to make sure everything was okay, and I wanted to
talk to Sheri to get her to listen to me. She needs to see reason. We belong together, as a family.
Sam shook his head, grateful he d put the pistol away so he wouldn t be tempted to shoot him. You
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