Fear blasted through her. She began to struggle but more hands grabbed for her. More hands—because there wasn’t just one guy in her bedroom. There were two. One on each side of her bed. One with a hand slapped over her mouth. One with his hands on her arms to hold her down.
No, no, no. She twisted and heaved, but they were yanking her out of the bed.
“Tie her hands! Slap some tape over her mouth! Or just knock her out!” A whispered snarl. “We have to move! Hurry!”
Her legs kicked out, but she couldn’t reach her attackers with her feet.
A soft rap at her door. “Delaney?”
Nash’s voice.
Nash!
The door creaked open. Light spilled into the room. “I’m sorry to wake you but we really need to—get the fuck off her!” A roar.
Because the light had hit the bed. It had hit her. Her attackers. Nash lunged across the room. He grabbed one man—the jerk who’d been holding her arms—and Nash threw him into the wall. With her arms free, Delaney reached for the nightstand. He’d told her before to use anything close as a weapon, and she snagged the square alarm clock and slammed it in the face of the man who was still trying to keep his sweaty hand over her mouth.
She hit him with the alarm clock once, twice, and when she went for the third hit, Nash was there. He caught the attacker by the nape of the neck, spun him around, and drove his fist at the man’s face.
Delaney scampered out of the bed. Her breath was heaving, her body shaking. Weapon, weapon, weapon. The man who’d been tossed into the wall was weaving as he stood next to an open window.
Open window? I’m on the second floor! Those men had scaled the cabin in order to get to her?
She flew across the room and slammed her hand into the light switch. More illumination flooded the room. Nash was still beating the hell out of the man near the bed. As for the one near the window…
They are both wearing ski masks. Both big. Dressed all in black. Their clothing would have let them blend with the darkness outside.
The man near the window was reaching under his shirt, and she realized that—oh, no. Oh, crap. He has a gun! He was going for a gun in a holster beneath his shirt, and he was looking straight at Nash’s unprotected back.
“No!” Delaney screamed, and she charged at the attacker. She threw the alarm clock at him. Because, yep, she’d still been clutching it. The clock slammed into his chin.
Swearing, he angled toward her. Correction, he angled and aimed his gun at her.
“No, don’t!” A yell from his partner. “We’re not supposed to shoot her!”
But it was too late. The gun was pointed at her, and Delaney was sure he was pulling that trigger.
Except a bullet didn’t hit her. Nash did. He slammed his body into hers, and she crashed into the floor.
“Run, run, run!” A wild order from one of the men.
She didn’t even know which intruder had given that order.
“Shoot him and run!” The shrieking order came again.
Shoot him?
Nash shoved his body up. “Stay down,” he barked at her.
They weren’t planning to shoot her. They were going to shoot him! He needed to stay down. She and Nash were both too exposed. She needed a weapon. She needed to help. To fight.
Nash heaved away from her. He rushed at the man with the gun. The guy who couldn’t seem to decide what the hell he should do. Before the masked man could fire, Nash drove his body into the would-be shooter’s. A hard, powerful hit. Nash’s shoulder collided with the guy’s chest, and the intruder went hurtling back.
Back toward the window.
He hit the window once. Tried to aim his weapon at Nash.
Nash drove into him again.
