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Bikers. They were toast. But she’d be damned if they didn’t go down without a fight.
For Conner. For Jace, who only wanted to protect and serve.
She ran inside, grabbed Uncle Phil’s favorite gun, the one he used for deer hunting. Bolt action, she’d used it once while hunting with Uncle Phil years ago.
The box of ammo spilled over the floor, cartridges rolling under the bed. Hands shaking, she loaded the .243 Winchester, praying she could at least give them a fighting chance to make it into the woods. Jace, oh, God, Jace, he’d been hit...
Kara ran to the front porch, steadying the rifle on the porch railing as she bent down and peered into the scope. A motorcycle roared down the incline leading to the field, others following. She had one shot at this, take out the head guy and maybe the others would realize they weren’t sitting ducks after all...
Taking a deep breath, she trained the weapon on the first biker pulling into the field. Her finger trembled on the trigger.
Have to do this... I must...
Then she blinked.
Kara went still. Not the snarly face of Mike in the scope. She knew this guy, and behind the bikes she saw several black SUVs and the unmistakable shape of patrol cars...
Standing, she did not lower the rifle, but waited as the bikes pulled up in front of the cabin.
Rafe dismounted the first bike, pulled off his helmet. Clad in black leather and jeans, with a Devil’s Patrol patch on the back, he looked the part. Three other bikers dismounted, and she realized from the flash of gold on their belts that they were agents.
He held up his hands. “Don’t shoot. We’re the good guys. Anyone else here?”
She set down the gun. “In the back. With Gerald, I mean, Marcus. And Jace is hurt!”
Men and women climbed out of the shiny black SUVs, and the local sheriff’s office deputies were here as well. And clad in black leather, the woman who’d kissed Jace in the Tiki Bar what seemed like years ago. The woman had a gun in a leather holder on her bike.
“I’m a nurse. My name’s Allison.”
“Jace.” A lump clogged her throat and she began to shake uncontrollably. “Gerald shot him, he’s on the ground in the back.”
Grabbing a kit out of her saddlebag, Allison ran to the back. Kara followed, her knees weak at the sight of Jace on the ground, lying so still...
Rafe shrugged out of his leather jacket, placed it around her shoulders. “Easy. You’re suffering an adrenaline letdown. Allison will take care of Jace.”
Gerald moaned. “I’m dying here. Screw him, I need help.”
“Yeah, well, screw you, you ass. Priorities. You can bleed out.” Allison began attending to Jace.
Rafe’s face tightened. “Dammit, Jace, you have to live. Let Allison treat you.”
Jace pushed her hand away. “The dog...my dog...”
Kara ran over Darby, who was lying on the ground whimpering. Rafe squatted next to her.
“Easy, boy,” he soothed. He swept his gaze over the dog. “Looks like a bullet nicked him. He should be okay, but he needs a vet.”
He removed the bandana from his head and bandaged the dog’s wound. Rafe beckoned to a deputy, who lifted the dog with care and promised to take him to a vet who lived close by.
Allison wrapped Jace’s arm and staunched the bleeding. Kara kneeled next to him.
“You got stung,” he murmured, reaching up to feel her cheek.
Kara touched it. “Doesn’t matter, as long as you’re okay.”
“Everything’s gonna be fine, babe.”
“Don’t you dare die on me,” she warned, her eyes filling with tears.
