Pain exploded through Seth's side. Ignoring it, he answered with a hard right to Troy's jaw. His fist connected with a satisfying crack.
“Son of a bitch!” Troy swung back, his punch glancing off Seth's cheek as they grappled for position.
Seth grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, trying to pin him, but Troy bucked violently beneath him. They rolled through dirt, scattered rocks, and brittle grass, each fighting for leverage. The fire crackled only a few feet away, its angry glow throwing wild shadows across the yard.
Troy planted a foot against Seth's hip and shoved, sending him sprawling onto his back. Before he could get away, Seth launched himself forward and wrapped both arms around Troy's waist.
The force of the tackle sent them tumbling once more. Neither held the upper hand for more than a second.
Seth hooked an arm around Troy's neck and bore down, trying to gain control. The asshole thrashed beneath him, nearly throwing him off.
The struggle carried them several more feet before Troy finally tore one arm free. He shoved Seth far enough to create a sliver of space, rolled onto one knee, and swung. But Seth got his forearm up in time. The punch glanced off it instead of his face. Before Troy could recover, he drove another fist into his ribs.
A muffled curse escaped Troy's lips as the fight continued.
Somewhere behind them, someone shouted.
Seth barely registered it.
Troy didn't react either. Instead, he snarled and drove his knee into Seth's stomach.
Air whooshed from Seth's lungs. He doubled over just long enough for the other man to wrench free. Stumbling backward, Seth fought for another breath as Troy scrambled to his feet.
His hand disappeared beneath the hem of his shirt.
Shit!
Steel flashed in the firelight.
Troy leveled a gun at Seth.
He froze. There wasn't enough time to close the distance, and no place to hide.
This was it. His life was over. And he'd never told Shylo that he loved her.
A gunshot shattered the night, and he braced for the impact.
It didn’t come.
Instead, Troy jerked violently, his eyes widening in surprise before he crumpled onto the gravel, the gun slipping from his fingers.
For several pounding heartbeats, Seth couldn't move. Then he looked over his shoulder.
Shane stood about three yards away, both hands wrapped around his pistol, the muzzle still trained on Troy.
Around them, the yard had erupted into controlled chaos. In various states of dress, Tucker and the ranch hands rushed toward the blaze with fire extinguishers, garden hoses, and shovels, throwing dirt onto the burning grass. Paige and Mya stood well back, with Ashley clutched tightly against her mother's shoulder.
“Seth! Are you okay?”
As he got to his feet, Shylo hurried toward him, her pajama shorts set mismatched with the boots she must’ve shoved on before rushing outside.
“I'm fine.” Every inch of him ached, but he ignored it. He held up a hand to stop her in her tracks before stepping toward Troy to confirm he was no longer a threat. Never taking his eyes off him, Seth nudged the gun away with his foot, then crouched beside him. Blood seeped through the thin T-shirt and pooled beneath the body. Shane had hit him square in the chest.
The lack of movement and vacant stare told Seth everything he needed to know, but he reached for a carotid pulse anyway.
Nothing.
He nodded at Shane, who holstered his gun and turned to help the others.
