“Carly!” No way could she hear him, and the man chasing her didn’t seem to care. Linc’s mind spun. His gut told him this wasn’t El Jefe or one of his men. His jaw clenched.Ray Archer. Had to be.
The thought congealed an instant before Linc spotted him up ahead through the trees. He increased his speed, his boots sliding in the mud as he closed the distance between them. With a leaping tackle, he slammed Archer to the ground.
“He’s got a gun!” Carly shouted as the two men rolled in the boggy earth, fighting for control of the weapon.
Linc heard the shot Archer fired, heard Carly scream, and felt a jolt of pain in his ribs. He grappled for the pistol, snagged Archer’s wrist, and managed to pry the gun free and send it into the air, but it landed just inches from Archer’s head.
Linc drew back and punched him, but Archer’s hand snaked out and wrapped around the handle of the pistol. The barrel swung toward him, Linc knocked it aside and the shot went wild.
For an instant, Archer rolled on top of him as they fought over the weapon, Linc’s hand clamped around Archer’s wrist. From the corner of his eye, he saw Carly running toward them, wielding a tree limb, swinging it toward Ray Archer with all her strength. The limb crashed into Archer’s head, knocking him sideways. The gun went flying, and so did Ray, landing hard against the trunk of a tree and not moving.
Gritting his teeth against a stab of pain, Linc pushed to his feet, saw Carly running toward him, and caught her against his chest. The jolt sent a fresh shot of pain roaring through him.
She looked down, must have seen the blood. “Oh, God, he shot you!” She tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“I’m okay,” he said, hoping it was true.
“Where . . . where are you hit? How bad are you hurt?”
“It’s not deep, just a graze, I think.” A branch flew past, the wind blowing so hard he had to lean into it to keep his balance. “We’ve got to get out of here. Get somewhere safe.”
“What about Archer?”
“We’ll have to take him with us.” He turned, saw that the man was no longer sprawled on the ground, but up and running, heading toward the woods. A ragged streak of lightning flashed. Linc heard the vicious crack of a huge tree splintering, saw the great tree crash to earth—right on top of Ray Archer.
* * *
Carly couldn’t get her feet to move. Her heart felt as if it might explode through her chest while needles of rain slashed into her face. Twigs and leaves felt like steel slivers cutting into her skin.
“Stay here!” Linc shouted, holding his side as he moved off toward the man on the ground. Inside her chest, her lungs were burning with the effort to breathe as she waited for the words she was sure she would hear. The tree was massive. All she could see were Ray Archer’s legs.
Her throat closed as she pictured his bones crushed or his legs severed from his body.
Linc strode back to her, shouting to be heard. “He’s dead! There’s nothing we can do! We need to go now!”
She just stood there. Trees were coming down around them. The wind seemed to singe her skin. She felt Linc’s hand wrap around hers, felt the tug that jerked her forward, pulling her along behind him. They ran through the woods back toward the pickup, but when they got there, the road was completely impassable, the mud in puddles bumper-deep.
She looked up at the dark, looming clouds, the flashes of lightning coming closer and closer. They would never make it to the big house.
“The root cellar!” Linc shouted. Gripping her hand, he pulled her along in his wake as he ran toward the barn. There was a wooden door in the ground on one side she’d never noticed. Linc struggled to pull it open, fighting the wind and the rain. The door flew back and he led herdown a set of wooden stairs, fought to close the door behind them, finally slammed it shut, then slid a heavy wooden bar into place to hold it.
Images filled her head and she started trembling. Ray Archer’s lifeless body crushed beneath the tree. The tornado bearing down on them. Visions of snakes and bugs in the underground cellar.
She could hear Linc moving around in the darkness, then the sound of a match being struck. She caught a whiff of sulphur and a candle began to glow, illuminating the inside of a chamber that reminded her of an underground tomb. Linc lit another candle, brightening the small space a little more.
“It’s not as bad in here as you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s cement, not dirt. The last owners had that done for safety before I bought the ranch. It smells like mildew, but it’s clean. There’s a cot and some blankets, plenty of water. As soon as the worst is over, we’ll get out of here.”
Linc drew her into his arms and held her, and though the storm seemed worse by the minute, her trembling began to ease. He had been right to come here. They never would have made it to the big house.
She looked at Linc and her muddled brain suddenly began to clear. “Oh, God, Linc—let me see how badly you’re hurt.” She didn’t wait for his permission, just dragged the black T-shirt he was wearing off over his head and saw the bloody gash across his ribs. “Oh, God.”
“I was right,” he said, examining the wound himself. “It’s just a graze. No broken ribs. I’ll be fine.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Dear God, he could have been killed! Nausea rolled through her as she remembered the instant she had believed he might be dead, the violent surge of grief that had nearly overwhelmed her. He was so vital, so strong. She couldn’t imagine a world without him.
Clamping down on her emotions, she forced herself to remain under control. “I need to clean the wound, get it bandaged.”
Linc glanced over at a stack of metal shelves against the wall. “I think there’s a medical kit there somewhere.”
