Page 68 of For Cowgirls and Kings
“Mateo, help me. They’re coming!”
In two more seconds she’s in my arms, her body crumpling, the fight leaving her body completely. She doesn’t cry, like I so desperately want to. She simply clings to me, her hands gripping my jacket so tightly I’m certain she could rip through it.
“Oh my god, Dale.” I brush the hair back from her face with shaky fingers. “Dale, baby, are you okay?”
“Boss.” McCrae’s gravely voice advances toward me, concern lacing his words. Even with Dale in my arms, unmoving, the crunching of grass and heavy breathing continues, and I realize we’re not alone.
They’re coming, she said.Who?
“Dale, who’s coming? How many are there?” I hoist her into my arms, walking with heavy purpose to the van. I want nothing more than to climb inside and take her away from here.Protecther, soothe her, help her.But I know this has to end now. They’re hot on her heels, and there’s no time to get out before they’re on top of us.
She quivers in my arms, her hands fisting my jacket. I fight the urge to shout for Gus or Stetson or Faith, but we might yet have the element of surprise on the pursuers. It might be the only advantage we have, seeing as we don’t know who or what they want.
“Marco.” Her teeth clatter. “Three.” It’s not much, but it’s enough.
I slide open the van side door, and Gus and Stetson instantly sit up, their faces a mix of confusion, relief, and devastation—something that I’m sure my own expression mirrors.
“Oh god.” Stetson scrambles over the middle seat, her hands tenderly brushing over Dale’s broken face. She trembles, a sob breaking from her lips, but she remains focused wholly on Dale.
And even though it guts me, I set her down, retreating from her nearly lifeless form. I look up, making eye contact with Gus. His eyes harden—sharpened black diamonds in the pale light of the van, and nods, just once.
He’ll protect them, no matter what.
I reach around the front seat, grabbing the pistol I kept concealed by the driver side. I don’t want to use it, but I’ll do what I have to, to protect those I love. Moving to close the van door, and find McCrae, I pause. “Where the hell’s Faith?”
Stetson freezes, her eyes widening. “She said she needed to pee. Oh god, what’s going on?” Her voice borders on hysterical, and Dale whimpers from her place curled on the seat.This can’t be happening.
“I’ll find her.” I slam the van door closed, whirling on my heel. I pause, straining to hear anything. There’s no longer movement that I can tell, but the overwhelming sense of beingwatched skitters over my skin. “Faith,” I whisper into the darkness, only to be met with eerie silence.
Where the hell did she go?
There’s a grunt to my left, followed by the scuffling of several feet. I advance in that direction, gun in hand, breath frozen in my lungs.
That’s when the first sound of a gun firing cuts through the night, followed closely by a second. I instantly drop to the ground, looking through the thick grasses, unsure of which way the shots came from.
Heavy thudding hits the ground, and I crawl back up, moving as quickly as I can in the direction of the scuffle once more. Breaking through the trees, I freeze as pale streaks of hair dance in the darkness, hovering over two large lumps on the ground.
“McCrae?” I hiss, and he whirls on me, gun drawn. It takes him several seconds, my hands in the air, for his to lower. Even from this distance, I can see his chest heaving. I move toward him, my own gun still firmly at my side, in case they move.
But as I get closer, even in the darkness, I can see the two perfect, inky holes through they’re skulls. My stomach turns at the sight—the sight of such violence nearly too much for me—but the guilt I expect never surfaces. Not after how Dale showed up, not after how they abused her.
And I don’t even know the extent of her injuries yet.
An unfamiliar wave of rage of courses, unchecked through my veins, and I raise my gun, pointing at the two men lifeless in the dirt. My hand quivers for several seconds as I war with putting a second bullet in each of them,for Dale, before McCrae’s tattooed hand wraps around the barrel, pushing it back toward the ground.
“They’re gone, Boss.” His voice is hoarse with a hint ofsomething I can’t identify. I stare at them for several more moments, before exhaling completely.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I saw someone head this direction, and I followed, but these two jumped me, and then—” He pauses, silence stretching so long I finally lift my eyes to his, eyebrows pressed together. His mouth snaps shut, his own eyes scrunching together in concentration. “I was able to get two shots fired off.”
I look back down at the men, and back at McCrae. “Two perfect shots straight through the head? They look like fucking sniper kills.”Not that I know anything about snipers.
He shrugs, dropping his hand around the barrel of my gun. “Lucky I guess.” But I know in my bones, this had nothing to do with luck.
Apparently, McCrae’s more deadly than I realized. Which should terrify me, but all I feel is relief.
We both whirl around as the sound of grass crunching, guns drawn. But I instantly drop it as Faith emerges, her hair loose around her face, eyes wide as she takes in the scene before her. I want to shield her from it, but relief pumps through me at seeing her safe.
