Page 68 of Lost and Found Cowboy

Then he was going to kill her.

She thought of her precious babies and how stupid she’d been to face him alone.

Then his body was lifted from hers, as if a giant hand had reached down and plucked him into the air then threw him across the room.

She blinked, not quite believing that it was Mack she was seeing, his hair wet, no shirt, his muscles flexed as he tore after Lyle, who lay in a heap on the floor.

Mack grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him up then swung his fist in an arc that slammed into Lyle’s nose with a sickening crunch.

Blood ran down Lyle’s face. It was bright red against his white teeth as he smiled at Mack. “Come on, Lassiter, she’s not worth fighting over. You can have her. All I want is the building.”

“Too bad all you’re getting is my fist in your mouth.” Mack punched him again, the blood on his face spraying across Lyle’s yellow T-shirt.

Lyle’s arm reached out, found another of the ceramic cups on the floor, and Lorna tried to scream a warning at Mack as he swung his arm up and crashed the cup into the side of Mack’s head.

The blow opened a gash on his forehead and appeared to have stunned him. It was enough for Lyle to gain purchase as he pushed Mack off him and scrambled away.

Mack roared after him, but Lyle grabbed a chair and swung it into Mack’s midsection. The blow sent him flying back, and he hit the floor.

Then Lyle was on top of him, swinging his fists and screaming with rage as he straddled his body. He used his knees to pin Mack’s arms then got his hands around the cowboy’s throat, the same way he’d done to her.

Lorna pulled herself up, every breath painful as she pulled it through her bruised throat.

She had to get to Mack. She might not have been strong enough to save herself, but she would find the strength to save the man she loved.

“Stop it. You’re killing him,” she screamed, dragging herself forward.

“That’s the idea,” Lyle shouted back, his teeth clenched with the effort of trying to hold Mack down while he strangled his throat.

Lorna used a chair to pull herself to her feet. She saw Mack’s body go limp just as she lifted the chair and swung it at Lyle’s back. It hit him in the side, and he fell off Mack’s chest, grunting in pain as his shoulder hit the ground.

“You bitch!” he screamed, pushing to his knees then his feet and coming at her again. He swung his fist, connected with her jaw, and sent her reeling back.

She fell to the ground and skittered back, her hands behind her, desperately searching for something to throw at him or hit him with.

He picked up the same chair she’d hit him with and raised it over his head as he stalked toward her. Standing above her, he raised the chair higher, poised to slam it into her body.

Then a shot rang out, and a red spot bloomed on his chest as he flew backward and into one of the tables, smacking his head as he fell.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lorna turned her head, blinking against the blood dripping into her eye from a cut on her brow, expecting to see a Sheriff’s deputy standing there.

Instead, she saw a petite blond woman, holding a gun outstretched in one hand, while the other hung limp, dangling at her side. Lorna was sure it was Misty, although her face was so swollen and black and purple with bruises, it was almost hard to recognize her.

“Is the fucker dead?” she asked, the words barely audible through her split and swollen lips.

Lorna glanced at Lyle’s motionless body as she crawled toward Mack. “I think so.”

“Deserves it,” Misty murmured as she dropped the gun and slid down the wall and to the floor.

Mack had turned to his side and was holding his throat as he coughed and sucked in gasps of air. Blood dripped from the cut on his forehead, and his lip was swollen and split too. Lorna reached for him, and he pulled her to his body, spooning her protectively against his stomach as he held her close.

“I got you,” he gasped.

“I got you, too,” she whispered as she clasped his hand tightly to her chest.

Red and blue lights flashed across the wall of the shop as the sounds of engines pulling up to the curb, doors slamming, and boots hitting the sidewalk filled the air.