Ned rushed Heath, and he swung a bat the same second Ryker did, both of them hitting Ned in the head. The sound was worse than a watermelon bursting. Blood went everywhere, and Heath jumped back, his gut roiling.
Ryker dropped his bat, his face white in shock.
“He’s dead,” Heath said, looking around. There was no question.Nobody could’ve survived that. The body lay contorted and was still twitching.
“We killed him,” Ryker whispered. His jaw dropped. “What do we do?”
“Run,” Heath said, tossing his bat toward the wall. His body vibrated and his head hurt, but they had to run. It was their only chance. He hurried toward Denver and pulled him to stand. “We have to go. Now.”
They were gonna get caught. But if he could get Ryker and Denver to safety, then he could confess or something. “I have stuff stored on the other side of the woods. Clothes and some food.” Tears pricked his eyes, and he shoved them away. No time. “We have to go.”
Denver pulled back, his blue eyes so dark they looked black. Bruises covered his entire face and neck. “Fire.”
Heath paused. “Fire?”
Denver slowly nodded, his shocked gaze on the dead bodies.
Heath sucked in air.
Ryker jerked back into himself. “He’s right. Let’s burn this place down.”
Heath awoke with a gasp.
“Heath?” Anya murmured sleepily, turning toward him.
The old furnace blasted the crappy hotel room with meager heat, he was in bed, and Anya was next to him. He shuddered.
She brushed her palm over his chest. “Bad dream?”
“Yeah,” he croaked out, his body slowly relaxing.
She moved closer and snuggled her face into his neck, wrapping an arm over his chest. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Her breathing deepened.
His heart rolled over, and he buried his face in her strawberry-scented hair. She had him. Yeah. He thought she did. Her kindness and vow of protection wound around him, through him. She was so damn special. Softly, so not to awaken her, he placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Several hours later, he awoke with an indrawn breath and quickly surveyed his surroundings, tuning in with his extra-sensitive hearing.
No sounds out of the ordinary to worry about. Snow fell outside the motel room, a long-haul truck started in the parking lot, and a small woman was burrowed into his side, breathing softly.
The room was freezing.
He turned and glared at the too-silent heater. The thing must’ve given out during the night, and he’d been too tired to notice. After the fight and blood loss, he’d needed sleep. He barely remembered hearing Anya come to bed after her shower.
Anya in bed with him. His groin awoke fully.
She lay on her side with her nose pressed to his shoulder, her hand flattened over his heart, and her leg over one of his. It was as if she were trying to bind him to her during sleep. She felt small and delicate next to him . . . and warm. Sleepy and warm, sexy woman.
He took several deep breaths and tried to recite golfing scores in his head. Or golfing records. Anything to do with golf bored him, so he pictured green rolling hills and water hazards.
Nope.
She murmured something and slid even closer to him.
Why did she draw him so, especially when he knew better? His body and brain disconnected when he was around her, and he needed to get himself under control. Now. “Anya?” He partially turned toward her. “Baby? Wake up.”
Her pretty green eyes slowly opened. Her mouth pursed into a silent O. “Heath?” She blinked several times and then drew back, her leg flying off him.
He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from rolling onto the floor again. “You’re okay.” He waited until she’d gathered herself and then released her when he wanted nothing more than to keep touching that soft skin. “Mornin’.”
