Rob subtly bobbed side to side on his feet, swaying me with him as if his nerves were eating him alive now. “Now walk outside, go back to that shitty fucking town, and forget all about her.”
Beckham’s eyes met mine, a determination there I’d never seen before. “Not happening.” He took one more step until his back was to the fire.
Rob shook with his rage. “It’s not a fucking option.”
“You and I agree, then.” Beckham’s gaze held mine, and I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, warm and with all of this behind us. “There’s no option when it comes to her safety.”
One second, Beckham’s hand was moving, and the next, the fire poker was swinging our way.
Robscreamed, his hold on me dropping, and I nearly fell to the floor. I caught myself, tripping across the small space until Beckham grabbed my arms and pulled me behind him.
The moment Beckham’s hands were on me and I clutched the jacket covering his back, thousands of pounds of fear physically lifted off my chest.
Shouted curses filled the room as Beckham aimed a second gun at Rob, who was clutching his neck. The fire poker lay on the floor by his feet, something wet stuck on the end. When his hands shifted, I noticed a gruesome burn sliced across his flesh.
“You do this, you’re ruining a man’s life!” Rob shouted as a last resort to save himself.
“Better you than my family,” Beckham ground out.
Rob’s glare deepened, his promise of vengeance practically wafting off him like a cologne. Then his gaze fell to the floor, directly where the shotgun lay between us. Panic overtook every sense in my body. If Rob grabbed it?—
“Cover your ears,” Beckham commanded, his bicep flexing under his jacket as he adjusted his grip on the pistol.
As soon as I did as he said, a shot rang out. My body threatened to curl in on itself, my forehead resting on Beckham’s shoulder blade as I squeezed my eyes shut. I was scared to check if he’d killed him, but even more scared that I’d imagined us getting out of this unscathed. What if Rob had shot Beckham and then got his grips back on me?
I jumped when something landed on my waist, but when the comforting warmth and size of Beckham’s hand registered, a bit of the tension in my body eased.
His muscles shifted as he tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, then he turned and pulled me into his arms, blocking my view of Rob.
“Is he…” I whispered into his chest.
I felt him nod as he held me tighter. He didn’t need to explain why he’d chosen to go that far rather than injure him. Rob wouldn’t have stopped, and though Beckham might not know his entire history, he could tell as much. No one abducted someone—especially a family member—if they didn’t intend to get what they wanted out of it.
Beckham didn’t release me as he pulled out his phone and made a call.
My focus narrowed to the crackling of the flames and the embers it spit out. How the fire swallowed the branches and sizzled as the heat met the moisture from the snow that once clung to them. I couldn’t see—couldn’t hear—anything other than that.
“Parker.”
I looked up to find Beckham staring at me with a crease between his brows. He was no longer on the phone.
“Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head, then remembered how Rob had kicked me back at the house. How he’d grabbed my chin and squeezed. My fingers moved on their own accord, brushing against my sore jaw.
Beckham tilted my chin up slightly, angling my headto the side to get a better look. The lethal look in his eyes only turned more severe. “He touched you.”
My hands fisted in the front of his coat and tugged on the material. I opened my mouth to reassure him, but after all I’d endured, I really wasn’t sure if I could say I was okay.
A single look at my clothes had him moving. One second, his jacket was zipped. The next, he was shucking it off, wrapping it around my shoulders, and tugging it closed at the front. He held me tighter, inching us closer to the fire.
His gaze moved around the room like he was searching for something, then he briefly let me go to close the door to the cabin.
He peeked out the small window. “Was there anyone with him?”
My arms wrapped around my torso, missing Beckham’s warmth. “No.”
He turned, eyes looking crazed and worried. He crossed back to me, instantly folding me back into his embrace. “Who was he? I heard you two talking, and he sounded like family, but I thought…”
