The attack came just after midnight.
Denver was awake—had been for the last hour, lying on his back with Ryan’s head on his chest, listening to the wind and the slow rhythm of Ryan’s breathing. The soft moments had become as addictive as the s*x. He was still turning that dangerous fact over in his mind when the first suppressed shot cracked through the trees outside.
He moved before the second round hit the outer wall.
“Up. Now.” His voice was pure command. He rolled Ryan off him, shoved him toward the narrow gap between the bed and the reinforced wall, and snatched his sidearm from the nightstand in the same motion. Another round punched through the front window of the main room. Glass shattered.
Ryan’s eyes were wide, sleep gone in an instant. “Denver—”
“Stay down. Do not move unti
