She pulled out the weapon, made sure the safety was off, then backed up to the wall where she had a view of the room through the smoke.
A figure loomed in the doorway, and she squinted through the hazy atmosphere, stifling a gasp as she tried to interpret what she was seeing. It might have been a monster with a darkened, elongated face that made him look part man and part animal. Then she realized it was a man wearing a gas mask. Gun in hand, she eased back around the corner of the sofa so that she was partially hidden by the arm. It took all her willpower to stay where she was, but she knew that if she moved, he would spot her. She saw him turn his head from side to side, then start toward the spot where she’d left Claire on the floor.
Claire gasped as she took in the terrible-looking figure looming over her, but before Olivia could do anything, she heard a concussion reverberate in the room and realized the man had fired a shot—probably point-blank at Claire.
Knowing she would be next, Olivia raised the gun in her hand and fired. But just as she did, the assailant ducked toward the woman lying on the floor and the bullet went over his head.
He whirled toward Olivia and fired in the direction from which the shot had come, but he hadn’t actually spotted her, and at this distance in the thick haze, it seemed he couldn’t be sure exactly where she was. She let out the breath she’d been holding as the bullet whizzed past her. But she had to grab another breath, and dragging a lungful of the smoke unleashed a coughing fit. She waited for him to come toward her, but now that he knew she was armed, he apparently didn’t want to take the chance. Still with the gun trained on him, she picked up an ashtray from the end table and heaved it across the room, where it crashed against the wall.
The assailant whirled and fired. While his back was turned, she pushed herself out of the living room and into the dining room where the air was clearer, keeping her face to him and putting the table and chairs between them.
When he realized that she’d fooled him with the ashtray, he turned back in her direction, and she heard an angry snarl from under the gas mask.
He waited a moment, trying to locate her, she assumed. After long moments, he headed straight for her hiding place. She shrank back, wondering if she could get off a shot at him before he killed her.
It was then that she heard someone call her name.
“Olivia!”
It was Max. Thank the Lord.
At the sound of his voice, the man in the gas mask stopped dead in his tracks, turning away from her and toward the new threat.
Olivia gasped. “Watch out, he’s got a gun,” she shouted.
The man cursed and fired several rounds in her direction, but he was blocked from getting a clear shot by the table and chairs.
Max pounded into the living room, starting to cough when he hit the smoke.
“I’m under the table,” she shouted. “Aim high.”
The assailant dashed past her and into the kitchen. She heard the back door slam open, then footsteps rushing away from the house.
Max came streaking past, heading for the back door. She heard several more shots and assumed he was shooting at the fleeing guy. She wanted to get out of the smoke, but at the moment she knew she was safer where she was. She crouched there with her heart pounding, praying that Max was all right.
“Olivia, it’s me. Don’t shoot,” he called out as he came back into the house. Then, when she didn’t answer, “Olivia, are you all right? Olivia?” he shouted, his voice urgent.
She tried to talk, which triggered a coughing fit. “Sorry,” she wheezed and managed to say, “It’s okay, Max. I’m here. I’m all right.”
“Thank God.” He followed the sound of her voice into the dining room. Reaching down, he helped her up, then saw the gun in her hand.
“Good girl.”
“Thanks.”
He started to cough. “We need to get the hell out of here. I don’t think there’s a fire. Just the smoke.”
They reached the back door, and she took a grateful breath of fresh air. But when Max tried to tug her outside, she dug in her heels. “Wait. We have to see if he killed Claire.”
“Claire? You’re not here alone?”
“No. Claire Lowden showed up. That’s how it all started.” She stopped and coughed several times, then started again. “She came to me. She said someone was stalking her. I was trying to talk her into calling the police when the guy threw that smoke bomb through the window. She’s on the floor in the living room. Over by the far chair.”
“Claire Lowden? You mean one of the other people who was at that party?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus,” Max clenched his fists, then relaxed them. “You stay by the kitchen door. I don’t think he’s coming back, but I don’t want you exposed in the house.”