Page 92 of Mountain Protector

The second the truck stops moving, we both hop out, leaving the doors open.

My pulse leaps, but I command it to settle.

My gun at the ready, I run down the dirt road, my footsteps muffled by a thin layer of half-melted snow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ronan dart toward the trees and disappear within them.

Up ahead, a car door slams shut. Then a man’s voice curses softly. “Fucking snow. Ruining my new shoes. If’d known I was going to be tramping through the damn snow today…”

Cool determination seeps into my veins.

I’m not a terrified boyfriend right now. I’m a soldier. A weapon. A man who will stop at nothing to accomplish his mission.

“Now I have to go into the fucking woods,” the man—Ed, I presume—gripes. “If that fucking Vinnetti had gotten it right, none of this?—”

There.

I have him in view.

Silver-haired, pot-bellied, dressed in a tailored jacketand pants; he looks nothing like the murderous bastard I know he is. He looks unassuming. Bland. Harmless.

But I know the truth.

Leveling my rifle at him, I snarl,“Don’t fucking move.”

He jerks around, his feet skidding in the snow.

“Don’t move,” I repeat. “You can make this easy for yourself.”

For a second, he does as I say, and I’m actually disappointed I won’t get to shoot him.

“No,” he chokes out. “How?”

I take several steps toward him, my rifle still steady. “Move away from the car.Now.”

A whisper of movement rustles through the trees, no more than a gentle breeze.

My finger tightens on the trigger.

“This is your last chance.” Advancing another few feet, I’m close enough to see the panic in his eyes. And a moment later, the crazed determination.

He’s not going to give up that easily.

“No!” he shouts. “I won’t! And you won’t do anything! Because if you do, I’ll kill her!”

My mind locks onto one thing.

She’s not dead.

Thank fuck.

Then, in an exceedingly stupid move, Ed reaches into his pocket. At the same time, he shuffles backward toward the trunk of the car.

“I’ll kill her!” he screeches. “If you don’t put the gun down, I’ll kill her!” He yanks a small handgun out of his pocket. “I’ll shoot her! I’ll?—”

“No.” It’s deadly. Rage burns in my gaze. “You willnothurt her again.”

And I fire.

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