“I won’t.” Caro shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I won’t let him hurt you again, Gavin. He’s the one responsible for the attack on you, for the attack on your brother.”
“Here now,” Sutton said calmly. “That’s enough out of you, sister. Who gives a goddamn if Jones aims to murder Winter? One less bastard in the world.”
Caro gasped, turning her gaze on her brother. “Jasper, how could you say that?”
“Easy,” Sutton claimed. “I’m a Sutton, ain’t I? My loyalty is to you.”
Gavin forced himself to recall the plan, just as Dom had urged him. “You lied to me, you whoreson,” he said to Sutton. “You told me I’d not come to harm beneath your roof.”
Sutton shrugged, his countenance devoid of emotion. “I lied.”
“Time to face me,” Jones taunted Gavin. “A final match.”
A shiver passed down Gavin’s spine, for he knew Jones had no intention of fighting him fairly. He meant to see him dead, one way or another.
Sutton withdrew a pistol, pointing it at Gavin’s heart. “You’ll go with Jones now, and I’ll have my sister back, and whatever the hell he does with your arse is your problem, Winter.”
“No!” Caro cried out. “Gavin, you cannot go with him. I beg you.”
“I ain’t stupid, Sutton,” Jones said. “Place your bleeding pistol on the desk, and then I’ll release the girl.”
“More than ’appy to, my fine fellow,” Sutton said, making a grand show of lowering his weapon and sliding it to the very edge of his intricately carved desk, well beyond his reach. As he did so, he knocked on the surface of the desk, just beside the weapon.
It was a curious gesture, but Gavin was too caught up in watching Caro to give a damn. As long as Jones released her safely, he would take his chances with the bastard. He had a pistol hidden in his coat. The moment they were no longer in danger of Caro or anyone else being harmed, he would try to defend himself.
Unease swept over Gavin, and he sent up a silent, desperate prayer as he watched Jones lower the pistol and give Caro a shove toward Sutton. Caro moved in the direction of her brother, and then suddenly stumbled, falling to the floor.
Scarcely a moment passed between Caro’s fall and the gunshot which followed. Terror clawed at Gavin, and for a moment, he believed Caro had been wounded. His mind was scarcely able to comprehend what had happened. A panel of Sutton’s desk had blown apart, splintered wood littering the carpet. Crimson was spreading on a dazed Jones’ shirt, his chest covered in gore. The gun he’d been pointing at Caro had fallen to the floor. Gasping, and making the most wretched of sounds, Jones collapsed. Caro’s head had popped up.
Relief washed over him as understanding gradually hit. Somehow, Sutton had fired a weapon which had been secreted within his desk, because the pistol he had willingly capitulated remained on the surface, untouched. But the particulars didn’t signify to him at the moment. All that did was one woman.
Caro’s hazel gaze met his and held. “Gavin!” she cried.
“Caro.” He started for her, not giving a damn about anyone or anything else.
She was all he saw, all he wanted.
He fell to the carpet at her knees, splinters of wood piercing his flesh. Still, he did not care. Dimly, he was aware of the roars of his brothers as they rushed from their hiding place, of Sutton ordering someone to haul Jones from the room. He wrapped Caro in his arms, burying his face in her hair. “Are you hurt, my angel, my love?”
“No,” she said.
A flurry of movement and activity surrounded them. Gavin discounted it all, because she was safe. She was safe, and she was in his arms, and she was the most beautiful, beloved sight he had ever seen.
He kissed her. There was no elegance in the act, no seduction or persuasion. Rather, it was a hard, desperate mashing of his mouth upon hers. It was the measure of his relief, his love, his gratitude that she had not been harmed, that she was alive and so was he. Their teeth clacked together. They were both weeping, and the salt of their tears was on their cheeks, pouring down their faces, slipping into their kiss.
Relief and love mingled, the emotions so profound, he scarcely knew what to do with them, what to say. He felt as he had when he had first awoken after being so near to death. Only this time, it was far different than the last. Because this time, he knew who he was, and he knew who she was. And this time, he understood how damned rare it was to have a love like theirs and how close he had come to losing it, first because of his own pride and then because of the machinations of a madman.
He was not going to squander this second chance.
He was going to cling to it—and Caro—with both hands.
He raised his head at last and gazed down at her, hating the bruise that marred her cheek for the pain it had caused her. Hated knowing he was responsible for everything that had befallen her.
“I thought I had lost you,” he said, the words torn from him.
“I thought you were going to go with Jones,” she returned, tears still sliding down. “He was so intent upon becoming the champion, he would have done anything, Gavin. He would have murdered you.”
“He did not have the chance for that,” he told her. “Thanks to your brother.”
