Free Exchange of Fire by P. A. DePaul

studying her. “It means that much to you?”
    “Yes,” she responded, exasperated. “How many times do I have to say it?”
    “Fine. I’ll go after I get some answers.”
    She yanked the LED device out. The lights were still flashing. “This is my security alarm.” She pointed to each light. “Back door, closet floorboard, safe.”
    His eyebrow arched. “What kind of system alerts you like that? I’ve never heard of ADT offering that kind of service.”
    Sandra stuffed the key chain back in her pocket. “I’ve answered your question. Off you go.”
    Grady snapped his mouth with an audible click.
His dentist would be wincing right now.
The muscle in his jaw ticked as he tapped the gun against his leg.
    “Go,” she tried again, the knots in her stomach tightening.
    “That was only one out of two answers.”
    “Tough shit. That’s all the explanation I’m giving.”
    He stepped out from behind the Porta-Potty . . . and started heading for her house.
    “What are you doing?” she hissed.
    He turned with raised eyebrows, an imitation of innocence. “Why, going, of course.”
    “Grady,” she growled through gritted teeth. “This is not our deal.”
    “No?” He scratched his chin with his free hand. “I told you I would go, and I am . . . into your apartment. It’s on the bottom right-hand side in the back, right?”
    “If you take one more step, I’ll—”
    “You’ll what? Incapacitate me? Been there, done that, keep the fucking T-shirt. Face it, toots, short of duking it out again, there’s nothing you can do or say to keep me from going inside.”
    “Why are you doing this?” She was truly at a loss as to how to handle this.
    “Because you’re in over your head with something, and I want to know what the hell is going on. Since you won’t talk to me, I’ll find my own answers. Starting in there.” He jabbed a thumb across the street.
    “You don’t know what you’re walking into,” she blurted out, frustrated.
    “Then tell me.”
    She clamped her mouth shut.
    “Fine. See you later.” He turned and resumed walking.
    She filled the air with some colorful expletives, but he didn’t stop his relentless march into a danger he couldn’t comprehend.
    “Fuck it,” she announced to his retreating back. “You want to get yourself killed, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just remember this moment later when it’s too late to walk away.”
    Grady stopped and craned his neck around. “What the hell kind of cryptic warning is that?”
    She marched up and planted herself in front of him. “The only one I can give.”
    He raised an eyebrow and tapped his gun against his leg.
    “Urrrrgggh,” she muttered. “They teach you about stealth in the Marines? Any evasive moves? Because if you insist on going through with your asinine threat, you’ll have to follow my lead. Right now we’re easy pickings with no cover.”
    He motioned with his left hand. “Then by all means, lead on.”
    This was such a bad idea. From now on she was always going to listen to her left-brain.
    Using as many shadows as possible, she led them across the street as fast as she could to a row of trash cans along the side of the house. They hunkered down and waited. No movement or sound stirred in her unit. A few of the other apartments had signs of life, but she didn’t feel anything from hers.
    She placed a hand on his thigh and leaned over, putting her lips to his ear. He shivered beneath her fingers, making her mouth go dry for a second.
Wrong time, wrong place, wrong everything. Get it together.
Sufficiently chastised, she whispered, “When I say go, head for the side of the door and wait.”
    His breathing deepened and he nodded his head.
    She scanned the area one last time, then mouthed,
Go.
    They crossed the distance and paused on each side of the door. She motioned for him to wait, but he motioned back that
she
should wait. For the next too many seconds they went back and forth silently, arguing over