Page 43 of Nicole's Shelter

Shit.

“Where is the girl?”

“No idea.” Rick assessed, calculating the odds of drawing the snub-nosed revolver from his ankle holster before this kid squeezed off a kill shot. “What do you want with her?”

The biker’s knee exploded in a fine spray of blood before he could answer. He screamed and went down like a felled tree, his M-10 automatic machine pistol tumbling toward Rick.

Snatching the weapon, he rolled toward the nearest tree for cover. Who the hell had joined this fight and whose side were they on?

“Rick! Are you hurt?”

He dared a look, unable to trust his ears. “Bart?”

“Who else could haul your ass out of trouble? Eva called, said you needed back up.” He looked around. “Where’s your girl?”

Rick lurched up toward his friend, his legs shaking from the adrenaline rush. Bart’s one armed hug brought tears to his eyes when the man’s hand landed hard on the fresh wound. “She left the car, but I haven’t found her. She won’t answer when I call her name.”

“Where’s your phone?”

Rick pointed to the car, dejected.

“No it’s not,” Bart said. “Eva claims she heard something else after the gun shots and explosion.”

Rick studied the area around the car. “Call the phone. Hurry.” He didn’t care if Bart thought he was desperate or pathetic, he just wanted to find Nicole.

Bart dialed and both men strained to hear the ring tone over the sounds of the fire while one of Bart’s employees used a fire extinguisher on the car.

“Damn voice mail,” Bart grumbled. “I’ll keep dialing. Give a shout when you find her. I’ll go get the litter off the road.”

“I have questions for them.”

Bart shrugged. “So I’ll use duct tape.”

On the wounds as well as their mouths, Rick guessed, feeling no sympathy for the bikers. He moved as quietly as possible, deeper into the trees, listening for one of the stupid ring tones Eva had programmed when he wasn’t looking. The woman made a hobby out of annoying him at every turn. At this particular moment, when he finally heard the crazy banshee scream, he was grateful, though he’d never admit it to Eva.

The phone was lighting up and vibrating under a thin cover of leaves. He scanned the area, and his heart stalled when he saw Nicole slumped against a tree, both backpacks behind her.

He rushed forward and slid to his knees, checking for a pulse. It was slow, but steady under his fingers and he murmured a prayer of gratitude. His gaze raked her head to toe, enormously relieved at no obvious signs of blood or trauma. The way she was sprawled, he had to assume the explosion knocked her back. A bad headache was the best he could hope for.

“Rick!”

He answered Bart’s call, waiting impatiently as his friend skidded down the slope to join them.

“How bad is it?”

“Head to tree is pretty much a guaranteed concussion.”

“At best.”

Rick gingerly explored her scalp with his fingers. “She’s got a goose egg started and may need stitches.” He wiped his bloody fingertips on his jeans and glanced up at Bart. “You didn’t bring a back board by any chance?”

“You’re lucky I had a fire extinguisher in the truck.”

“Options?”

“You both need attention.”

Bart had to know Rick wasn’t about to visit a hospital. Not with so many people interested in Nicole’s status.

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