Ophelia couldn’t feel her face. “What are you talking about?”
Monica shrugged, red infusing her face. “I heard Tammy slept with an Osprey one night, and I didn’t know Brock had already left town for walkabout…”
“She slept with Ace,” Ophelia snapped.
“I know. I was wrong. That’s what real love does to a person.” Monica shrugged. “If it helps, I left her up in the warming hut so her kids would know someday what happened to her.”
Nausea rolled through Ophelia’s stomach. “That does not help. You’re a real bitch, Monica.”
Monica glared. “You’re about to be a dead bitch.”
Ophelia’s head swam. “Why did you take out Tammy’s eyes?”
Monica wrinkled her nose. “Gross. I didn’t. If a person did it, that was after I left. You sure scavengers didn’t take the soft tissue?”
“No,” Ophelia whispered, even her legs going numb. “Wait. What about Hank? Did you kill him?”
“Of course not.” Monica snorted. “I do think a hunter accidentally shot the old guy. It happens. Brock and I found him dead together. We share that moment. It’s ours. Sometimes death is just a mistake.”
She obviously didn’t know about Hank’s illness. “You need help,” Ophelia said weakly. “Let me get you help, Monica.” That kind of obsession required serious intervention, and murder required jail time. “Put down the gun.”
A helicopter pierced the silence above, and oncoming snowmobiles vibrated enough that more snow fell from the tree branches. Help was coming. Brock was coming.
Monica gasped and steadied her aim.
Ophelia tightened her legs and sprang off her frozen feet, lunging for the woman and hitting her center mass. They flew across the icy snow and smashed into the Jeep’s tire. Pain flared through every inch of her body, but she pulled back her good arm and planted her fist in Monica’s face.
The gun fired, the shot shrieking through the forest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Brock lost his mind. He flew off his sled and ran full bore toward Ophelia. He could see and smell the blood already. Christian ran on his heels.
Snow burst in every direction as Damian landed the helicopter too close to the river, jumping out before the propellers had stopped. Ace slid his truck to a dangerous stop, nearly hitting Brock’s snowmobile.
Brock noticed all the action of his family around him, but his gaze focused fully on his woman.
She rolled off Monica and came up to her feet, clutching her upper arm.
Monica lay on the ground, out cold. Blood covered her face. Monica? What the hell?
Brock reached Ophelia and pulled her close with her sweater, running his gaze over her form. “How bad?”
“Don’t know,” she gasped. “My arm is on fire, and I can’t feel my toes.”
He plucked her off the ground, holding her close to his chest while protecting her injury. “Ace? Call Doc. We’re on the way.” He tucked his head over hers to protect her from the snow. “I heard another shot.”
“Went wide,” she gasped, her face pinched with pain.
Ace hauled Monica to her feet. The woman was regaining consciousness and swayed against him. She blinked and stared at Brock. “I love you. This is all for you.”
He wanted to puke. This entire situation boiled down to a one night stand he barely remembered? “You’ll have to find somebody else in prison, Monica.” While she obviously had mental problems and probably needed compassion, he wanted to toss her ass into the river and say goodbye. He’d had no idea she had this bizarre obsession with him.
Ophelia lifted her head from his chest. “She killed Tammy. Got confused about you and Ace.”
Ace jerked and paled. “Monica?” He yanked her around. “You murdered Tammy?”
Monica wiped blood from her broken nose off her cheeks. Olly gave her quite the punch. “I thought Tammy slept with Brock that night. Didn’t know that you and Tammy had a thing together until I heard the gossip a week later. Way too late.”
