She lifted her head, tears sliding down her pale face. Her eyes were a tumultuous green, and her pupils were wide open. Fright and shock filled her face. Even her lips were blue. “I shot Isobel Madison.”
“I know.” He hurried out of his coat and put it around her, helping her into the sleeves. He had to get her warm, and now. “I was outside getting ready to come in, and all hell broke loose. We have to run, baby.” There wasn’t time to take off his boots and give her his socks. So he lifted her up. She felt like a block of ice. “Hold on.”
A force plowed into his shoulders, and he went flying. At the last second, he turned in the air and tucked his body around Anya’s. He landed on his back and slid several feet, his head thunking against the rough trunk of a tree. Branches swayed and dropped snow and ice on him. He coughed. Pain attacked his eyeballs, and his stomach roiled.
Anya scrambled off him, a gun in her hand. Snow scattered from her. “Stop,” she said, using both hands and settling her stance.
Heath shook off dizziness and stood, swaying. Pain still filled his body from the bombing earlier, and he had to concentrate to force it away. To not feel his nerves. The figure moving toward them was a haze and then took shape. “You must be Daniel.”
The man strode through the trees, seemingly not bothered by the cold. His nose looked broken, and lacerations covered his jaw from his brief fight with Cobb. Heath had almost lost his lunch when he’d seen Cobb walk out of the cabin. Then the two men had started fighting, so he’d angled around to the kitchen window, planning to get inside for Anya, his nightmares doubling when he’d seen Isobel Madison again. Then Anya had shot her and run out the front door.
Daniel kept coming. His smile revealed bloodstained teeth. “You’re mine, Anya. Time to go.” His deep voice cut through the storm.
Anya paused for a second, her hair blowing wildly. “Fuck you, asshole,” she yelled, pulling the trigger.
Nothing happened. Ah shit.
Daniel grinned. “I counted the shots. You’re out.”
She shook the gun out and then tried again. Panic spread over her wet face, and she gave a slight whimper.
The sound centered Heath. He had to concentrate and do this right. Anya was all that mattered. He reached for his gun in the back of his waist. “I have bull—”
Daniel leaped for him in a fast tackle, hitting Heath in the gut and sending them both crashing through trees. Fuck. Heath had forgotten other people could move as fast as he could.
His shoulders hit the ground first, followed by the rest of him. His gun went spinning through the snow and into a bunch of dead bushes, and his vertebrae compressed and then relaxed. He stopped breathing for a minute.
Daniel smiled. “Anya is mine.”
Heath lost it. He clapped both hands to Daniel’s ears and manacled his leg around Daniel’s neck. Daniel punched Heath in the throat. Heath moved his neck enough to keep it from getting broken, but agony still rushed down his spine.
Daniel back-flipped off him, sliding in the snow and then gaining his balance. He shook out his hands, anticipation lighting his face.
Heath stood and wiped blood off his temple. Then he launched into motion, reaching the asshole and plowing a fist into his cheekbone. Daniel’s head jerked back, and he retaliated with a front kick to the gut. Heath bent over, pivoted, and shot a side kick up into Daniel’s jaw. All the hours of worrying, and all the pain the bastard had caused. “I’ll kill you.”
Daniel laughed, the sound high-pitched through the wind. “That’s my job.” He attacked with a series of punch-kick combinations that had Heath seeing stars and spitting blood. Everything from his jaw to his knees protested and wanted to give out. Pain centered in his gut and spread in every direction.
“Heath!” Anya screamed.
Anya. Heath shoved the pain away like he’d learned to do as a child at the boys home. No pain. Just think. Yeah. Ryker had taught him that.
Heath set his stance and focused. “Let’s do this, dickhead.”
Daniel smiled and whipped a double-edged blade from his ankle. “You’ve got it. When I’m done with you, I’m taking my time with Anya.”
A helicopter rose high into the air, lights blinking through the murk. It turned and sped quickly away, over the lake and surrounding mountains.
Heath snorted. “Your ride just left.”
Daniel angled to the side, the knife in his right hand and pointed for a fast strike. “Wasn’t my ride. I’m sure the good sheriff is getting Isobel to a doctor.” He cut a look to the side at Anya. “You shot her, and you will pay for that.”
“I hope she dies,” Anya spat, edging behind Heath.
Daniel shook his head, and snow went flying. “It was a shoulder shot. She’ll live, but she isn’t going to appreciate the scar. I assume she’ll take it out on your brothers when I fetch them for her, Heath.”
“Not me?” Heath asked, watching the smooth movements of the man and waiting for an opening.
“You’re going to be dead,” Daniel said easily. “But I do like giving people a choice. Leave right now, and I won’t kill you. Anya and I have a date to finish.”
