“Evie!”
Wyatt’s shout followed her as she slipped down the roof of the covered porch. Baker was waiting for her, but she’d been counting on that. If they could make their stand here, somehow contain the thieves until the weather cleared, they might have a chance.
Not just a chance to survive Tate’s revenge or the blizzard, but a chance to be together again. That hope propelled her as Baker tackled her, the force driving her into a deep snowdrift.
She writhed beneath him, though there wasn’t much room with the snow pinning her in on all sides. Blocking his attempts to get his hands around her throat, she was grateful for the necessary gear that impeded his efforts.
Suddenly, instead of Baker filling her vision, she was looking up into snow-covered trees framing an overcast sky full of clouds. She scrambled out of the snowdrift to see Wyatt squaring off with Baker.
“Get the snowmobile!” Wyatt shouted as he dodged a punch.
Her first instinct was the Greenbriar machine. Looking to the shed, she saw the drift covering two thirds of the door. They’d never get to it before Tate shot them both. Then she heard the revving engine of the snowmobile around front. She’d scold herself later, if she survived.
Tate rounded the corner of the store, the back end of the machine fishtailing behind him. Inexperience and desperation made him reckless. He immediately dismissed her, aiming the machine at Wyatt.
She screamed a warning.
Wyatt must have heard her, but it was too late.
His body twisted, not quite in time, his face registering shock as he was bumped aside. Baker fell the other way, taking a face full of snow as Tate turned. His expression was stark hatred and vindictiveness as he circled around and aimed the machine at her.
Behind him, Wyatt was getting to his feet and Baker was stumbling, holding his side. Wyatt had to be okay. She clung to that singular thought, unable to comprehend another outcome.
She moved straight toward Tate and at the last second threw herself at the nearest tree, taking a stand in the rutted path left behind by the snowmobile’s runners. Looking around for a fallen limb she could use as a weapon, she came up empty, the snow was too deep.
“Stay away from him,” she shouted at Baker when he stumbled toward Wyatt. Baker didn’t look like he could be much of a threat, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
Tate muscled the snowmobile around and was taking aim at her once more. She fumbled with her zipper and used her teeth to pull off a glove so she could reach into her pocket. Circling the tree, forcing Tate to recalculate his angle again, she pulled out a few of the loose diamonds and threw them at his face as he passed her.
“Lose something?” she shouted over the drone of the engine. Her fingers were shaking from the freezing air and the barely leashed panic coursing through her veins.
Tate cursed her, standing up on the snowmobile and leaning forward as he came at her once more.
What she wouldn’t give for one well-placed rock, covered by snow, that would pitch him over and knock him out. Then she realized she had all the rocks she needed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out another diamond, pretending to hold something larger.
She raised her hand and threw a strike of epic proportions.
Tate shrieked and jumped off the snowmobile, running in the direction of her toss. His movements were awkward as his feet sank into the snow, his arms flailing for balance.
She smiled.Gotcha. She plucked out a few more diamonds, tossing them to either side of him.
He reached out as if he could catch one of the precious gems before it was lost in the snow. Of course, he missed. On his knees, he dug through the snow. “Stop! Stop!”
“I’ll give you the Mae West if you hand over your gun and leave right now,” she offered.
“Yes.” He reached for his gun.
“Slowly,” she warned, hand poised near her pocket. “Throw it over your shoulder.”
He did as she asked. “Thank you. Now get the hell out of here.” She secured the pouch of remaining diamonds. “Without a guide.”
“We’ll get lost.”
“Not my problem.” She figured the bears would enjoy a convenient, if somewhat stale snack when they woke up in the spring. Provided the authorities didn’t find his lousy carcass first.
Tate’s gaze narrowed, mean and calculating, as he got back on his feet. “I’ll just take you and?—”
The threat was smothered by the snow as Wyatt shoved him down, face first, and dropped his knee hard between the man’s shoulders. The fight was over that fast. Wyatt gave him just enough room to grab a shallow breath.
