Chapter 14

THREE... NO, four of them. Damn it. Propping themselves in the shadows of trees or ducking behind the tables strewn beneath the faltering gutter of the lanterns. One of them was even flattened to the ground, nothing but a smear of slightly more substantial gloom beneath the shadow thrown by the stable into the paddock. Idiot. You couldn't get a good firing stance like that.

He supposed it could have been worse--there could have been forty. And they could have been competent. All of them had taken point, their eyes and ears trained on the door of the inn, and not one of them had bothered to give even a cursory glance behind them in the time he'd been watching.

Dallin's mouth curled into a dark little smirk.

Seriously. Idiots!