Page 87 of Protected from Torment

There can’t be more than six feet between Tyler and the other men now. Not quite close enough for Tyler to reach them, but more than close enough for one of them to kill him.

The shorter man grimaces. “Are you a federal agent? Or in the mob?”

“Didn’t your employer tell you?” Tyler shoots back. “Or did you just take the job blindly? How much did he offer? Enough to go into hiding for the rest of your life? What about taking care of your family after you’re gone? Did he give you enough for that?”

Shorty flinches. Then he throws an angry glare at his accomplice. “You didn’t tell me I could get the death penalty for this. You didn’t tell me the fucking mob would come after me. Fifty grand isn’t enough for that!”

“He’s lying,” the other man insists. But he doesn’t sound sure of it. “He’s stalling.”

While the two men are looking at each other, Tyler moves closer yet. Even from here, I can tell he’s about to make his move.

My heart stumbles. Stalls.

Please, I pray to anyone listening. Protect him. Please.

“Are you sure?” Shorty retorts. “What did the guy tell you about the job? Did he say anything about the target? Other than he’s missing a leg?”

“Of course he did! I got his name. The car he drives. And that he’s some computer genius who goes around sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I didn’t think I needed to know more than that!”

“You did if we’re both going down for this!”

While the two men argue, I can see Tyler getting into position. His muscles tense. His posture shifts. One hand inches towards his pocket, no doubt searching for the knife he has stashed there.

Once again, I consider running over to join him. I could hand off the gun, maybe distract the two men in the process, or maybe I could shoot one of them myself…

Or I could screw everything up. Because I’m not skilled or stealthy like Tyler is. I’m not a good shot. The only reason I even hit Gage was because he was right in front of me.

“He’s making it all up,” the tall guy barks at his partner. “I don’t believe it. He’s just⁠—”

In a rush of movement, Tyler leaps at him.

Then it’s nothing but a frenzy of motion.

In all the times I watched Tyler sparring, I never saw anything like this.

His arm sweeps down, and the taller man yelps in pain. Then a leg sweeps out, and Tyler’s opponent crashes to the ground.

The shorter one rushes at Tyler, but Tyler kicks him hard in the gut. Then he follows with a swift punch to the throat. The man falls to his knees, clutching his neck and gasping. Then Tyler jumps on his back and puts him in a chokehold, holding onto him until the man goes limp.

Just as the taller man starts to get up, Tyler sweeps out his leg and takes him down again. Yanking his arms behind his back, Tyler restrains the guy, using zip-ties to tie his ankles to his wrists.

As Tyler turns to the unconscious man and starts tying him up, the last of my willpower dissolves. I can’t bear staying here a second longer. I need to know if Tyler’s really okay.

Self-recrimination beats at me as I pull myself free of the rotted trunk and start racing across the grass. I shouldn’t have hidden, I tell myself. I should have helped. It didn’t matter what Tyler said⁠—

“Mel!” Tyler’s eyes go wide as he lifts his head to see me running towards him. He gives the restraints around the unconscious man’s wrists a firm tug before standing up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry!” I blurt. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have hidden. I should have helped⁠—”

His arms come around me as I crash into him. “Mel.”

“I’m so sorry,” I sob, the last of my control finally cracking. “I’m sorry. I should have helped you. You could have been killed, and I was just sitting there. I knew you told me to, but I should have helped. I’m so sorry.”

Tyler hugs me hard. His heart is pounding so hard I can feel it. “You’re supposed to be hiding.”

“I know. But I was watching, and you took them both down, and I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed to know—” I jerk out of his arms and look him up and down. “Are you hurt? What about your leg? Did they hit you? I heard a gun go off. Were you shot?”

I’m patting his body all over, searching for blood, for anything obviously broken. And I can’t stop crying. “I’m so sorry. I should have⁠—”