Page 256 of Mountain Boss

My heart shreds as she cries against my chest. And I have to keep reminding myself that I got here in time.

And when that sends panic coursing through my system—because what if I hadn’t gotten here when I did?—I remember that damn bear.

Courtney’s bear.

I press a kiss to the top of her head.

Even if I hadn’t gotten here right when I did, that bear would have saved her.

We’re gonna have to find a way to feed that bear for the rest of her life. I just know it.

New footsteps sound on the gravel, and I kiss Courtney’s hair one more time before looking up to find Cook and a man I don’t recognize, who must be Dale.

The man’s eyebrows are raised, but he doesn’t say anything about the scene before him.

It’s a point in his favor.

If I came across a man with a shot-up knee, being kicked by one of my coworkers, stepped on by another, shotgun aimed at his chest, and a crying woman with a bloody neck sitting in the lap of my boss… I might have a reaction.

Guess we’ll keep Dale on the payroll.

“Cook.” My friend looks at me, eyes moving to Courtney as she reaches up to wipe away her tears. “An ambulance is on the way. I need you to get the bolt cutter out of the shed and open the gate. That fucker there put his own padlock on it.” I look at the new guy. “Dale, go with him.”

New guy nods at me just as Simpson lifts his foot and stomps down on Creep’s knee again.

Creep’s wail is shrill before he goes blissfully quiet. Passed out.

“’Bout fucking time,” Simpson grumbles. Then he looks at me. “You already called it in?”

I nod, still holding Courtney as tight as I can. “As soon as I saw the gate was closed, I knew something was wrong.” I run my hand down Courtney’s braid. “I just told the dispatcher to send an ambulance and hung up.”

Simpson nods at Courtney. “She okay?” His voice is quiet, but Courtney hears him because she lifts her head.

“I’m fine.” She brushes at her cheeks again. “Just rattled.”

With her head raised, I use the opportunity to look at her neck.

It’s too dark for me to see it well, but it looks like her whole neck is smeared with blood.

“Courtney.” The distress is back in my voice, and she jerks her attention back to me.

She reaches toward her neck but doesn’t touch it. “It’s not that bad.”

Destructive rage floods my system.

I look up at Fisher. “Shoot him again.”

Fisher chambers a new round.

Courtney laughs, honestly laughs, as she places a hand over my mouth. “Don’t shoot him.”

Simpson kicks Creep in the side.

Ben barks.

Courtney snorts.

And her humor is enough to have my rage subsiding. Just a bit.

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