Page 46 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

He crept slowly along the wall, his rifle at the ready. As he drew closer to the light, Mac could hear and sense movement beyond the tunnel’s exit. He ducked down and tried to make himself as small as possible. As he emerged, he heard a man speaking to someone who, from the conversation, was a hostage and female. It wasn’t until she spoke, Mac knew Eastwick had Willa.

Eastwick admitted to killing his wife. Mac would be able to testify to that, but his testimony would be far harder to refute if Willa was also able to testify Eastwick had confessed to her. Eastwick confessing to Willa directly meant she would be able to testify, putting the proverbial nail in Eastwick’s coffin.

Eastwick was dangerous, so Mac assumed he was armed. He glanced around the edge of the cliff to see Eastwick ogling the woman he’d made strip from the waist up. The fugitive stared at her openly, appearing distracted by the sight of Willa—beautiful and half-naked. Eastwick’s rifle was pointed directly at her.

Willa caught sight of him but gave no indication. Mac nodded toward his right/her left. Eastwick was right-handed. If startled,Eastwick would most likely twist around to his left, giving Willa a good chance to dive to relative safety. He gave her one more nod and held up his hand, showing three fingers. He folded one, then two.

As he dropped the third, she dove to her left, and Mac bellowed, “Drop the gun, Eastwick! Federal Marshal! You’re under arrest!”

As predicted, Eastwick swung around to his left and fired. The bullet slammed into Mac’s left shoulder, causing him to drop his rifle.

Eastwick made a run for his horse, managing to jump into the saddle without getting tangled up in the lead rope of the packhorse, spurring his mount forward, trailing the packhorse behind and coming straight at Mac. Before he could react, the fugitive galloped past him, kicking him in his wounded shoulder and sending a flare of agony through it. Mac hit the ground, rolling out of the way. Before Mac could recover, grab his gun, and take aim, Eastwick had disappeared into the tunnel.

“Shit!” Mac turned to see Willa scrambling to her feet, heading toward him. He wondered if she had any idea how beautiful and incredibly sexy she was.

“Oh my God, Mac! Are you all right? Are you hurt? What a stupid question. Of course, you’re not all right. You’re hurt. You’ve been shot. Here, let me help you over to my camp chair, and I’ll see what I can do for that wound.”

She’d grabbed her shirt as she ran toward him, but instead of putting it on, she wadded it up and pressed it hard into his wound, causing him to wince.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s gotta hurt, but I want to slow or stop that blood.”

Mac was impressed by her calm demeanor. As much pain as he was in, it was still all he could do to resist reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear or to pull her close and murmur that aslong as they were together, everything would be just fine. God, he’d missed her. He hadn’t even known until right this minute how much.

“Are you all right?” he managed to ask.

“Me? Absolutely. A little grittier than normal, and certainly a lot less dressed than I would like to be, but I’m fine.”

Willa led him to the camp chair and helped him sit, then hurried into her tent and came out with first aid supplies, several bottles of water, and one of tequila. After putting it all down next to him, she walked past him and picked up her bra, keeping her back turned as she put it on.

Mac’s cock twitched. He’d much rather she’d tended him as she’d been. He realized that was no way to think of a lady, but his dick reminded him, he wasn’t necessarily a gentleman, and she had a spectacular rack. He grimaced as she put on a t-shirt she’d also brought out with her.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”

Willa pulled her makeshift bandage away from his shoulder and helped him out of his shirt, then took the bottled water and poured it into the wound to clean it. The procedure hurt less than he thought since the water was so cold. Next, she wadded the T-shirt up and pressed an unbloodied side against his injury.

She pieced his shirt together before pronouncing, “Hmm. This isn’t good. It looks like it entered here, but I don’t see an exit wound. Most of your shirt is intact, but they’d better check for threads when they dig that bullet out.” Opening the first aid kit, she dug out sterile gauze, packing, and bandages, then removed the T-shirt he had been holding in place and again drenched the area with water.

She held up the bottle of tequila. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt.”

Before he could react, she doused the open wound with the tequila. Mac focused on being close to her again to keep fromcrying out. She quickly pressed the packing against his shoulder and used the elastic bandage to secure it in place and keep the pressure on.

Mac had to admit she’d done a fine job. The wound was still bleeding, but not at a rate he’d be in danger of losing too much blood before he could be transported to a hospital. She’d been as cool as a cucumber up until now, but as the immediate crisis faded, her calm façade crumbled, her hands trembling.

He needed her to hold it together for a little while longer. He smiled.

“The next time we have tequila together, let’s have it with nachos—my treat.”

Willa looked at him incredulously. She was falling apart, and he was making jokes? Then she smiled. That was just like Mac—he’d made the joke to relax and reassure her.

“Hey, if you don’t like the way I serve my tequila, next time, don’t come to my party.”

“We’ll have to discuss your choice of party guests at some time in the future.”

“He wasn’t a?—”

“I know.” Mac placed his free hand on hers. “Are you all right?” he asked tenderly.

“No, but I’m a lot better than I was before you crashed my party and broke it up. Thank you for that.”

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