She opened her mouth and screamed.
Chapter Eleven
Chad was putting the towel around his waist when he heard Bree's cry. He immediately jumped into action, instinct taking over.
He grabbed his gun without stopping as he ran from the room and raced around the corner, leading him into the kitchen where he found Bree staring out the window, her body shaking.
"A man – there's a man out there, and he's staring at me," she cried.
"Get down, now!" Chad commanded. The authority in his voice overrode the fear coursing through her and she dropped to the kitchen floor.
Chad hit the light switch over the stove, dropping the kitchen into darkness, making it easier for him to see outside.
"What's going on?" Bree whispered as she spotted the large gun Chad was carrying.
"I don't know," he responded, but he could see she didn't believe him. She stayed silent, though as he slowly popped up and glanced out the window.
"It may be nothing, but I swear he was looking right at me," she whispered, her voice thick with fear.
"Bree, I need you to crawl into the hallway. There are too many windows here and if this is a robber and he shoots, I don't want you getting hit by the glass," Chad once again commanded. He watched as Bree did as he asked.
Then, he went to the counter and picked up his phone.
"Get over here, now," he said into the device before quickly hanging up. She didn't know who he'd called, but obviously they didn't need more explanation than that.
Bree watched wide-eyed as Chad slowly popped up and looked out the window. He kept his body to the side, with only a portion of his head in the window while he searched the yard.
"Where did you see him?"
"Over by the barn."
"You're sure it was a man?"
"Yes, I locked eyes with him. It was definitely a man," she said with confidence.
"He may have moved closer to the house, or your scream might have scared him away. I'm still not taking any chances. Go into the bathroom and lock the door. I don't care what you hear; do not open that door. Underneath the vanity, feel around, there's a secret door, and inside you'll find a gun. Take it out. If anyone comes through that door, shoot first, ask questions later. I won't come in without knocking and letting you know it's me," he told her.
"I don't understand. Secret gun compartments? Crazy stalkers? What is going on?"
"We don't have time right now, please, just do what I asked," he commanded. Bree scooted away to the end of the hall and waited on the other side. She wasn't quite ready to head to the bathroom.
She poked her head around and watched as Chad flipped on the back porch light and looked through the window. She saw him staring out it, looking in every direction. He moved to the back door and looked through that as well. It didn't seem real, with him standing there in nothing but a towel, holding a deadly looking black gun in his hand, with all the lights off inside.
Then the first shot rang out, seeming to echo through the house. The kitchen window shattered and Bree felt her face drain of any color that might have been left. She decided it was time to listen, and scrambled to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door.
There was a night light casting shadows in the large room. Though there were no windows in it, she still crawled to the vanity, where she felt around for the secret compartment Chad spoke about.
It took her several minutes, but finally she found the latch and opened the small door, reached her hand inside and came out with the gun he spoke of. Her fingers shook as she took the weapon in her hand, then crawled over to the back wall and sat there huddled.
Please don't have to use this, please don't have to use this, she repeated over and over in her head. What if she fired it and hit Chad? What if she hit her own leg? She wasn't used to weapons and didn't know the first thing about how to fire a gun. She just hoped she wouldn't have to have her first lesson on a real live person.
***
Chad waited to hear the click from the bathroom door before he moved forward again. He didn't know where the guy was – didn't even know if he was alone, or he had help. All he knew was that he wasn't going to let them near Bree again, not while he was still alive.
He glanced back out and caught a flash of light glinting off metal. It was an instant red flag and he quickly dropped to the ground as the gunshot rang out and slammed through the kitchen window.
He covered his head as the window shattered to his left, littering the kitchen floor with shards of glass. He kept his ears tuned toward the back of the house, making sure the door didn't open. Bree needed to stay out of there. He could hold them off, but he needed to know she was safe.
He crawled back from the door, wishing he would've put on some pants after his shower. He felt too vulnerable in nothing but a small swatch of cotton.