She wanted to help him but knew it would be suicide to try to reach him. Bullets struck the cabin repeatedly and holes opened up along the wall by the door in a sudden flurry but Harley threw himself down at the last second. He crawled, cursed, and moved to a new location. He stood and began firing again. More bullets tore through the cabin walls as the men outside returned fire. A framed picture hanging on the wall near where the couch had been shattered from a bullet, sending glass raining down.

Trisha turned her head to check on Brass, who leaned against a thick support beam while he fired outside. He’d obviously guessed accurately that some of the men would try to sneak up along the back. Trisha heard a noise and stared at the kitchen as the countertop Brass had wedged against the window came crashing down. It hit the sink and slid to the floor. Trisha saw movement as the long barrel of a gun entered from where someone had obviously gotten the window open.

“Kitchen window,” Trisha yelled.

Brass dived for the floor and slid across it a few feet on his belly until he could see the kitchen. He twisted onto his side, gun in hand, and aimed. Brass shot the intruder in the head when a man attached to the barrel of the gun climbed through the window.

The body jerked before he collapsed with half of his body slung over the sink. Brass turned and blinked at Trisha before he dumped an empty clip from the handgun and shoved in a new one. He lunged to his feet to reach his post by the support beam again. His gaze peered out the window he guarded.

“Tell me if you see anyone else, Trisha,” Brass ordered. “Don’t look away. You’re our eyes.”

Trisha mutely nodded but remembered he wasn’t looking at her. “I’ve got your back.” Her voice came out shaky but she knew he heard her when he didn’t repeat the order.

She stared in horror at the body draped through the window. Blood ran down the cabinet under the sink and pooled on the floor. She forced her attention away from the red and the grotesque sight of what was left of his head where pieces were missing. She focused on the window opening instead. If someone used it to enter the kitchen they would be able to shoot at Brass and Harley. Their sole focus needed to be on the outside.

The shooting stopped suddenly and Trisha held her breath. She was afraid to look away from the window and she didn’t. The lives of men she cared about depended on her keeping a steady visual.

“They are reorganizing,” Brass growled. “How you doing, Harley?”

“Two hits but just grazes on my arm and lower leg. I’m good to stand.”

“Moon?”

“Still here and fine. I’ve gotten six of them for keeps and winged two more. They are staying behind the trucks or sneaking through the woods to circle around. Right now they are huddled, probably trying to come with a plan to rush us. I don’t have a good shot from the back. The porch roof blocks my view.”

Brass lowered his voice to a whisper. “Ammo?”

“I’m good,” Moon called from above.

Harley hesitated. “Low.”

“Moon? Cover the front.” Brass kept his voice soft to prevent it from being heard by the men outside.

“Got it.”

“Harley, trade positions with me after you resupply. Hold the back while I fix the problem inside the kitchen.”

Trisha watched Harley limp to the bags on the floor. He shoved ammo clips into his pockets along the legs of his pants. She stared with worry at the blood trail he’d left when he walked. She wanted to tend to him. Brass hesitated inside the kitchen, swept his gaze around it, and crouched. He reached the dead man, grabbed him by his collar, and dragged him totally inside the cabin. He even took a second to check for a pulse. He shoved the body where the stove had once stood to put it out of the way.

He stayed low to the floor when he grabbed the broken countertop and used it for a shield in front of his body when he rose and slammed the heavy piece back over the window. He turned, examining the kitchen. Brass moved, a loud noise sounded, and she watched as he turned, gripped the cabinets that housed the dishes and ripped them from the wall. There were three of them hooked together but he dumped the entire section of cupboards on top of the sink as though it weighed nothing. He studied it before spinning around to meet her gaze.

“How are you doing?” Brass moved toward her.

“I’m fine. Can I look at Harley? He’s losing a lot of blood.”

“You stay put.” He glanced at the bloodstained floor, lifted his gaze to where Harley stood against the back window and frowned. “Harley? Walk to Trisha.” Brass’ gaze returned to her. “You can treat him sitting on your ass right there. You don’t move from that spot.”

Brass headed for the back window. Harley limped to Trisha. She shoved the table out of the way and she focused on the bleeding area. He’d been hit just under his knee on the outer side of his leg. Her fingers shook as she hooked the material of his pants with her fingers where the bullet had torn it open and widened the hole enough to see his bloodied skin. The bullet had grazed him but it was a deep cut.

Harley had a knife strapped to his thigh. She glanced at it first before she met his gaze. He watched her silently.

“Hand me your knife, please.”

He didn’t hesitate to pass it over, handle first. Trisha looked down her body, realizing she didn’t have a lot of clothes on. She gripped the bottom of her shirt and began to slice it. She took off four inches of the bottom and made a large strip and held up the knife, handle first, to Harley. He instantly reclaimed it.