It didn’t feel right. Certainly not the way Annie had imagined when they were planning it out.
She thought it would be a joyful night. Exhilarating, at the very least.
But as Damon turned down the lantern, panic flooded over her. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe should could still stop it.
But then … the pounding started, somewhere out near the barn, and then the horses shrieked through the night.
“What the …?” Damon sat up in bed, reached for his shirt on the post.
Annie put a hand on his arm. Doubting everything.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “Lie back down.”
But Damon was already halfway to the door, grabbing the loaded shotgun leaning against the cold kitchen stove. Annie hurried to catch up and slammed a hand against the door frame just as he unlatched the lock.
“Don’t go out there!” she whispered.
He brushed her aside like a gnat nipping at his earlobe and stepped gingerly onto the front porch. He stood and surveyed the landscape, looking for the source of the racket.
Inside, Annie grabbed the rifle standing in a corner of the front room and stepped into the doorway. She raised the gun to her shoulder and drew a bead on the spot in the woods where she knew Harvey was waiting.
It was the best place on the property to get a draw on a man coming from the house without him knowing. Annie had picked it out herself.
But now, well … she had a decision to make.
And she had to make it quick.