Page 90 of Deadly Attraction
Chapter Nineteen
Emma stood in the center of the yard, turning circles, aiming the shotgun at the woods, the collapsing barn, the fenced pasture. “Come out and show yourselves!” she yelled.
As her gaze ventured past the house, she thought she saw the glint of Will’s rifle in the upstairs bedroom window. Good. All she had to do was pray Mitch was okay and keep their attackers focused on her.
Second Chance had journeyed to the edge of the drive where she lingered near the juvenile detention van. Hope was by her side, nursing. The other two horses had disappeared into the woods, scared off by the fire, and then Emma’s shotgun blast.
The rest of the burning barn collapsed and Emma flinched, praying hard that Mitch was okay. She and Will had seen him stagger out in a swirl of smoke and collapse between his truck and the barn. They’d lost sight of him at that point and that’s when Emma had gone from scared to raging angry. The moment Mitch had bailed out the kitchen door, she’d needed more than a chocolate fix.
She’d stuck her S&W in its holder and grabbed her shotgun. When Will asked what she was doing, she’d told him to find a spot where he could train that rifle on the center of the property and be prepared to shoot.
“You know what a terrorist is?” she yelled at the tree line now as she continued to slowly pivot. “A weak SOB. You’re not smart or brave or a martyr if you terrorize someone, no matter your beliefs. You’re nothing but a sorry excuse. A pussy in my book.”
She never used vulgar language, but in her time working with criminals, she’d learned a few from them. Sometimes, in order to get a point across, you had to meet the devil on his own terms.
She just hoped her display of bravado had the intended effect. Mitch had to be suffering from smoke inhalation and burns. Half the barn had crumbled while he was in there; she suspected he might be injured from falling debris as well.
She needed to distract her tormentors, keep them away from Mitch. He’d saved her precious horses; now she needed to do a bit of saving herself.
Will had tried to keep her inside, but she was done waiting for Mitch’s teammates to arrive or for someone to catch Chris and Linda and end this ridiculous, dangerous charade.
If Sean Gordon and the man working with him wanted her, they could come out and face her like real men.
She could feel eyes on her as she swept the shotgun past Mitch’s truck, now covered in dust and ash from the building. Rain began to fall in earnest again, sprinkled her face, but even at this distance, she could feel heat from the burning barn.
Bastards. They’d killed an innocent guard to get to her. Nearly killed Danika and Mitch in their desire to get to her. They’d burned down her barn and nearly killed four horses to get to her.
Well, here I am. What are you waiting for, you worthless scumbags?
She pivoted again, waiting, taunting them. Igor had come back to the tree line and was chewing on some grass.
“You’ve done all this to get to me.” She stopped circling and lowered the gun so it hung at her side. “You succeeded. I give up.”
Nothing moved. No one emerged from the trees. Igor didn’t even lift his head. Behind her, all she could hear was the crackling of the fire, the patter and sizzle of rain.
Tears threatened to break free, and really, why the hell was she holding them back? This ranch meant everything to her. The dogs, the horses, Will. She’d built a life here, helped young men and women here, recovered from her own emotional wounds.
And now these men, at the direction of Chris Goodsman and his number one fan, had ripped off the bandages she’d so carefully placed around her heart. They’d made her vulnerable again.
How had that happened?
Danika and Carla had paid the price. The horses had been terrified and nearly died. And Mitch—he hadn’t emerged from behind his truck; hadn’t even made a sound when the barn collapsed. What if he was over there dying? What if he was already…
No.Do not go there!Mitch was full of life and he had turned her world on its head, made her believe again in happiness, peace…love? Maybe. All she knew was that she couldn’t imagine her life now without him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The low, irritated voice hissed from behind her. Turning, she nearly sagged with relief. Mitch, face covered with dirt and smudged with smoke, glared at her. His gun was drawn, his arms locked into position as he sidled up to her and put his back to hers.
“You trying to get yourself killed, woman?”
“I’m trying to draw them out so Will can shoot them. He’s upstairs with a rifle.”
“Jesus! Raise that shotgun. We’re going to move in tandem back to the house. If I tell you to duck, your ass better hit the dirt, you understand?”
The relief swirling inside her made her giddy, lightheaded. “I like it when you get all bossy.”
Her levity was lost on him. “Move,” he growled.
