Shadow Soldier by Dana Marton

heard below, although she doubted anyone could see her through the smoke, even if they did look up.
    She finally reached the fence and lowered herself onto a thick post, then slid down to the neighbor’s yard and crouched behind a sprawling azalea bush. Her hands shook, as did her legs and her insides, herthroat raw from smoke. She wiped the tears from her eyes so she could see, and looked toward the street, wanting more than anything to get up, run around the fence and go back to the garage to help Alex.
    If she thought he had one chance in a million to be still alive, she would have. But she didn’t. She couldn’t delude herself. She’d seen that fire. Still, she called his name into the microphone again.
    Nothing.
    She crumbled against the fence. On the other side, Alex, a complete stranger until a few days ago, had died for her. He could have climbed onto the tree first to pull her up after him. He hadn’t. He’d put her life first, died so that she would live.
    And he’d done it without thinking, without hesitation. That’s the kind of man he was—gruff at times but constant and reliable, putting her safety before his own. Losing him hurt. Nicola hugged her knees as pain washed over her. Alex was gone—his rare grins, his arrogant confidence, his way of making her feel safe. She grappled with the thought as she stared into the night with tear-soaked eyes. Physical attraction aside, in all this madness, she had come to care for him.
    The Slocskys’ empty house stood a few yards in front of her. Her neighbors, a lovely retired couple, spent their summers at their beach house at the Jersey Shore. Alex would have probably taken advantage ofthat. Maybe she could get inside, out from the open where she would be spotted as soon as the attackers decided to widen their search.
    She pulled herself together and stood, brushed the tears from her eyes so she could see as clearly as the night allowed. She darted behind a hemlock tree next to the house, then stopped to scan the deep shadows of the patio. Nothing there but the familiar topiaries. She turned around to check the front but caught a movement from the corner of her eye and froze.
    A dark figure, black from head to toe including the mask that covered his face, moved toward her. He stopped and looked around, took another couple of steps then stopped again. He hadn’t seen her. He would have come straight to her if he had. She tried to control her nerves enough to think. She still had a chance.
    She willed him to turn around, to choose another direction. But instead of following her telepathic suggestions, he inched closer still.
    Another couple of yards and it’d be over. The fire next door gave off enough light for him to see her. She held her breath. Maybe if she stepped back closer to the wall, deeper into the shadows. The slight movement might attract the man’s attention, but as it was, another few steps and he would see her anyhow. What did she have to lose?
    She crept back without turning, connecting withthe wall sooner than she had expected. It moved. At the same time, a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.
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    A LEX PUT HIS OTHER ARM around hers to hold her still. If she struggled or made any noise at all, they would be discovered. He placed his lips on her neck below her ears in a brief kiss, trusting she would understand his message, know it was him. They had been kissing, minutes before the attack. He hoped she would make the connection. He couldn’t risk whispering in her ear, and even if he managed to noiselessly turn her around, he doubted she would recognize him as he was, covered in soot from head to toe.
    After a moment, he felt her sag against him and he let her go. He needed his hands for other things. Most importantly, to get the gun he’d taken away from one of the attackers.
    He had run into one of the terrorists as he dragged himself out the back door of the garage, his clothes