Knox Haven jogged up from his truck parked further down the drive. Bear had barely registered its arrival in the commotion. He’d worked with the hotshot firefighter before on a few projects around the ranch during fire season. The man was a shameless flirt, but otherwise solid.
“Got your text,” Knox said. “What’s the situation?”
Hollis filled him in quickly while Bear continued monitoring Sarah’s pulse and breathing. Her eyelids fluttered, consciousness fading in and out.
“We need to move her now,” Bear said. “She’s going into shock. Get her inside, get her warm.”
Knox nodded. “I’ll take her legs if you want to?—”
“No.” Sarah’s voice cracked like a whip, suddenly stronger. Her good eye fixed on Bear. “Not... you…” Her gaze shifted over his shoulder to Maggie, then Hollis. “Please… not him.”
The way she looked at him—like he was the monster who’d done this to her—turned his stomach.
Because she was right to be scared of him.
Hewasa monster.
He’d killed with his fists and the rage that lived under his skin. That he’d been sober for years didn’t change what he was capable of.
“Okay,” he said, easing back. “The women will take care of you.”
Hollis nodded her thanks, then turned to the porch. “Claire, Tariah, can you help?”
Two women came forward. The older one, Claire, moved like someone who’d done this before. Tariah, barely more than a teenager, followed her lead.
“Spinal concerns?” Claire asked. Former nurse, if he had to guess.
He shook his head. “Injuries appear concentrated on the face, ribs, and arms. No indications of neck or back trauma.”
Claire nodded, then she and Tariah carefully positioned themselves on either side of Sarah. With Hollis supporting her head, they gently lifted her.
“I’ve got medical supplies in my office,” Hollis said as they started toward the house. “Maggie, can you grab blankets from the linen closet? And Jen, put the kettle on. We need to warm her up.”
Maggie touched his arm as she passed. “I’ll find out what’s happening and let you know.”
He sat there, snow soaking through the knees of his jeans, watching as they carried Sarah. His hands felt strangely empty.
Useless.
He hated feeling useless.
King pressed against his side, a warm, solid presence.
He climbed to his feet and followed Knox as far as the porch, stopping at the threshold. The women disappeared inside with Sarah, voices murmuring reassurances too low to make out.
“She say anything about who did this to her?” Knox asked.
“A husband or boyfriend.”
“Based on?”
“She kept saying, ‘he found out.’” He flexed his fingers, fighting the familiar rage that always bubbled just beneath the surface. He really fucking hated when innocents were hurt. Even worse when they were women or children. “But whoever ‘he’ is, I think he employed a friend to help work her over.”
Knox frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Bruising pattern.” Bear’s jaw tightened. “Too symmetrical. One person tends to favor a side when they’re beating someone. This looks like she got hit from both directions.”
“Jesus Christ. Some people don’t deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of us.”
