Warrior (First to Fight #1)(24)

It felt like it took an eternity for the paramedics, policemen, and even a fire-response team to arrive, all sirens screaming bloody murder, in my driveway. In reality, it was probably a few minutes at most, considering how small Nassau is.

The sound of the sirens didn’t even disturb Cole from his slumber, his little chest kept pumping away. The sound of his cries in the hospital echoed throughout the hallways. There had never been a more beautiful sound.

I try to draw on that feeling of happiness now, when the house is asleep and everything is dark. When I feel trapped by circumstance and hopelessness. I walk through all of the rooms, turning off lights as I go. I let out Hank, our Boston Terrier, for one last bathroom break.

Quietly, so as not to wake Cole from his deep sleep, I gather his limp body in my arms pad up the stairs and down the hallway to his nursery. I carefully lay him in his crib and pull a light blanket over his legs to ward off the chill.

I pull his door to and pause for a moment in the hallway, trying to discern if the soft noise I hear is a figment of my imagination or just my dog, Hank, trying to make his arthritic way up the stairs for the night.

I listen for the sound again, but instead of calling out for Hank, like I would any other night, something stops me. Then I hear it again: the telltale creak of a shutter easing open. The one next to the back door in desperate need of replacing.

My heart thuds in slow, determined beats that feel as though it is trying to jump out of my chest. I freeze at the top of the stairs, unsure of what to do. A split-second of panic turns my veins to ice.

The stairwell is set at two angles, so I wouldn’t be able to see anyone coming up until they were nearly on top of me. This is fortunate for me, though, as the person downstairs won’t be able to see me, either.

I hope Hank is somewhere in hiding. That he somehow knew to get away from this person instead of displaying false bravado. He is getting on in years and sometimes has trouble getting up the stairs at night. I fervently regret not bringing him up with us.

I retrace my steps to the crib and carefully lift Cole to me as I inch into a sitting position. He nuzzles my neck at the movement, but otherwise remains asleep. I feel his steady heartbeat against my chest and I send up a short, fervent prayer that we get through this unharmed.

My bedroom door is still open and I know my cell phone sits dutifully on the nightstand, plugged into its charger. A floorboard creaks downstairs, much closer-sounding than before. The sound spurs me into movement. As quietly as I can, I tiptoe back down the hallway to my bedroom. If nothing else, it’s the last room on the floor. Whoever is downstairs will have to check all of the other rooms before reaching mine.

If we’re lucky, I can get to my phone, notify the police, and hide until they arrive.

The alternative is too terrifying to contemplate.

I make it to the bedroom door where I ease it closed, hoping the hinges don’t betray me with a squeak. Fortunately, it closes with only a small click to signify the movement. I throw the lock and the hook-style chain then hurry to my bedside to grab my phone.

Cole begins to murmur in his dreams as my fumbling fingers navigate the touchscreen. I have to try three times before I’m able to dial the numbers, my fingers too slippery with sweat.

“9-1-1, what is your address and emergency?” The voice sounds dangerously loud in my ear.

“4837 Mill Road. This is Livvie Walker. There is someone in my house. They’re coming up the stairs. I’m in my upstairs bedroom with my baby and the door is locked. Please, send someone to help. Hurry!” My voice breaks and I drop the phone, careful not to end the call just in case. It’s the just in case that makes my heart race.

This can’t be happening.

I slowly inch toward the walk-in closet that leads directly into the bathroom. From there, I can go directly into the hallway once the burglar goes into my room. It’s dangerous, but I don’t want to be cornered with no options, especially with Cole in my arms, relying on me. I tiptoe into the closet. Through the wall of my closet, I hear the subtle squeak of shifting weight as they make their way down the hall. If I hadn’t been paying attention, I never would have known until it was too late—that’s how quiet they are. I hear the door to my spare room click open and there is a momentary pause in their progression down the hallways as they investigate.

My knees go weak as I realize my room is next. Cole shifts in my arms and I jiggle him up and down to soothe him back to sleep. The absolute last thing I need is for him to wake; his screams would draw them right to us. I steel my knees against the panic that wants to overwhelm me.

I consider using the separate exit to the bathroom, then going out to the hall, but doing so would trap the burglar behind me and expose our position. I have no guns in my home—I had always considered Nassau to be a safe place before now. A foolish miscalculation on my part, one my father had always lamented. A tear streaks down my face at the thought, wrought of fear and sadness and desperation.

I hear the handle of my door jiggle. Only once at first, but then more forcefully. I duck between some of my dresses, hoping for a modicum of camouflage in case the burglar comes bursting in.

Just as I’m wishing Ben were here, the door to my room explodes open in a wave of splintered wood. I stifle my scream of surprise. Footsteps inch into my bedroom and with each thump, my heart beats louder and my breath grows increasingly ragged. The steps stop just outside the closet and I hold my breath, keeping Cole wrapped in my embrace. Before they can take the final step into the doorway, the room becomes bathed in flashing red and blue lights. It takes a moment for my ears to register the scream of the siren over my beating heart.