Page 93 of Billionaire Unreachable: Wyatt

“What the fuck!” Ted’s voice sounded angrily from inside the cabin. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Haul ass for the chopper, Brock,” Wyatt demanded harshly. “I’ll call in the feds and be on your six.”

Without another word, the man holding me took off like a shot toward the woods, tightening his arm around shoulders and ribs to keep me tight against his body.

I heard a gunshot.

And then another.

Following by multiple shots ringing out eerily in the silence of the dead of night.

Pain like I’d never experienced before shot through my ribs from Brock’s grip on me and the hard pounding of his pace as I was jostled around in his arms.

Wyatt!

Where is Wyatt?

The horror of knowing he was still behind us, and hoping to God he wasn’t in the line of fire were the last things I remembered before everything went black.

Wyatt

Istayed on Brock’s ass after I’d let the feds know they could move in, returning fire as he sped into the woods with Shelby.

I knew I probably wouldn’t hit the asshole who was shooting from the window. He wasn’t popping his head out anymore, but I hoped that it would keep him from wildly firing his gun.

I was grateful now that one of my guys from the team in Michigan had met up with Chase and me at the airport.

My brother had needed to stay with our ride, and I’d needed the backup.

Brock had been nearby on a brief vacation, and when he’d heard about what had happened from Marshall, he’d hopped a plane to Billings. He’d actually arrived before Chase and I had gotten into Montana.

Maybe we weren’t Delta anymore, but the camaraderie of working that closely together for so many years had never faded for any of us. We’d had each other’s backs for so long that we’d probably never stop being a team.

I could see the lights from a plethora of vehicles coming up the rough, dirt road toward the cabin to apprehend the asshole we’d left alive in the cabin.

I’d struggled not to put my knife into the assholes heart myself after seeing what he’d done to Shelby, but Marshall was right. She came first. Not only would the action traumatize her more, but I’d probably end up in jail, and I needed to be there for Shelby.

I wasn’t giving up my life and my future with her for a piece of shit.

I watched Brock as he made his way through the woods like he knew exactly where he was going without a compass or directions.

His talent for tracking and finding his way around in the woods was one of the big reasons why I’d relented on using him as backup.

He’d discreetly left almost imperceptible marks as we’d come through the woods the first time so we could hightail it out by following that marked trail. The guy’s ability to follow just about any trail was one of his many talents.

We moved quietly through the trees until we were well away from any danger of being shot.

“Hold up,” I bellowed to Brock. “I’ll take her now.”

Chase had needed to land far enough away to avoid the heavily wooded areas, and to keep the noise of the helicopter from alerting Shelby’s kidnapper.

One look at Shelby told me that she was out cold. “What the hell happened?” I growled as Brock passed me her limp body.

“She’s alive and breathing,” Brock informed me. “I think she passed out from the pain. That asshole beat the hell out of her, and I’m not sure we know the half of all her injuries.”

“Fuck!” I cursed, wishing I’d gone ahead and plunged my Ka-bar knife into the murderous bastard’s heart when I’d had the chance.

Brock and I were both wearing night vision goggles. I’d been able to see that her face was battered, but I’d tried to close that off and focus on my objective.

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