Zane sprinted through the living room and into the kitchen.
His heart fucking stopped at the sight of the asshole on top of Bonnie.
He lunged, grabbing the fucker by the back of his jumpsuit seconds before he could grab the gun on the floor. Zane threw him into the wall and held the letter opener to his throat.
He froze. It wasn’t Monty. But itwasone of the escaped prisoners.
Had Monty sent him after Bonnie?
The guy threw a punch, not seeming to care about the sharp edge against his throat. Zane dodged the hit easily and threw him to the floor.
The guy grunted and rolled, attempting to stand, but Zane dropped to his back and pressed an elbow to his neck. “Move and you’ll never walk again.”
He tried to shove up anyway, and Zane delivered one hard blow to his skull, rendering him unconscious.
Idiot.
The second the guy was out, Zane rushed over to Bonnie, who was now standing by the kitchen counter, chest heaving, pistol in her shaky hands.
Gently, he took the grip of the gun from her fingers and set the weapon on the counter before lightly grabbing her hips. “Are you—” He stopped at the sight of the blood on her arm. “You’re hurt!”
Shit.
He lifted her arm, feet twitching to turn around and kill the guy.
“The bullet grazed me,” she said quietly, eyes only on him. “Are you okay?”
He grabbed a hanging tea towel and wrapped it around her arm. “I’m fine. But we need to get you to a hospital.”
“I have to make sure everyone upstairs is okay.”
Zane cupped her cheek, still studying her, looking for more injuries. If he’d been any later, she might not be here right now. And that fucking killed him. “Do you know who he is?”
“The ex of one of the women here. He’s also the father of her child.”
This attack hadn’t been targeted toward Bonnie. “I thought…”
“You thought what?” She frowned.
Before he could respond, a shuffling noise sounded behind him. He spun just as the prisoner lunged from the floor.
Then a loud bang, and he went down again—a bullet wound in his back and a knife Zane hadn’t noticed dropping from his hold.
Zane’s head whipped to the side. A woman was at the base of the stairs, a pistol in her hands.
“Sarah!” Bonnie gasped.
“He…he was going to stab him,” she whispered.
Bonnie raced over to the woman and took the weapon from her. “Where’d you get this?”
“It…it’s mine.”
Zane leaned down and touched his pulse. Dead.
Banging sounded on the door and Zane hurried toward it, looking through the peephole before opening it to Jesse, Becket, Holden and a deputy.
They all entered, guns raised, only to stop at the sight of the dead felon.
