Page 48 of To Love a Beast

What to do? He had no doubt Batton was watching for him. He'd be a sitting duck if he stepped into the open. Which left him with only one option—talk his way through.

"Ambrose Batton!" Everett's voice boomed across the twenty yards of open space between him and the cabin. "The sheriff is on his way. Let Miss Rosenfeld go, and you have my word that I won't hinder your escape."

No bullets whizzed by his head. That was good. But there was no response of any kind. That made him nervous. Were Batton and Callista not in the cabin? The big palomino stood saddled near the corner of the building, so they had to have been here at some point. Everett stepped slightly away from the tree shielding him, his gaze glued to the front window, expecting a rifle barrel to poke beneath the raised sash at any moment.

Nothing materialized. He inched out a little farther, debating whether or not he should rush the cabin.

Just as he prepared to launch, the front door opened. Callista stood in the doorway, her familiar blue dress a beautiful sight. But a meaty arm wrapped around her midsection marred the view, as did the leering face above her head. The glint of a steel blade near Callista's neck stole Everett's breath.

"Gotta give you credit, Griffin," Batton shouted from behind Callista. "You found me faster than I expected. Too bad. I had hoped to have more time alone with your lady."

Everett's gut clenched so hard he was surprised it didn't crack a rib. "Callista?" His voice broke a little. "Are you all right?"

"She's fine for now, but she won't be for long, unless you do exactly as I say."

"No, Everett! Run! It's you he's af—" Callista's words cut off and visions of the blade cutting into her throat speared through his mind.

Everett charged out from behind the tree, caution forgotten. With Batton holding her with one arm and wielding a knife in the other, the man couldn't shoot. But he could hurt Callista, and that's what he did. His blade sliced into the tender skin beneath her chin, drawing a cry of pain that ricocheted through Everett's chest like a barbed ball bearing.

"Not so fast!"

Everett skidded to a halt a few feet from them. "Please. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt her." If Batton wanted him, he'd gladly make the trade.

"Drop the rifle. And your sidearm. Set them on the ground and kick them away from you."

Everett did as he was told, then straightened with his hands in the air. "I'm the one you want, Batton. Let her go."

Everett's gaze darted to Callista. Her beautiful brown eyes glistened as she shook her head ever so slightly, still trying to get him to save himself. Her eyes pleaded, but he'd not leave without her.

"I'll let her go," Batton said, "but only after you suffer for what you did to my cousin."

His cousin? Everett searched his memory for any Battons that he might have known back in New York, but nothing came to mind.

"I've never intentionally harmed anyone, Batton. I don't know who your cousin is, but—"

"Lillian March." Batton growled out the name, and the force of his released rage dug the blade of his knife into Callista's neck, drawing her whimper. "My cousin is Lillian March. You destroyed her, and now I'm going to destroy you."

Chapter 22

Awarm trickle rolled down Callista's neck. Blood. A wave of lightheadedness assailed her, but she shoved it aside. She couldn't afford to indulge any weaknesses. Not when the man she loved was in danger because of her. Why hadn't she just waited for Spartacus instead of walking on her own? She shouldn't have even left the house. If she'd been thinking of others instead of herself, she would have stayed in the kitchen with Mrs. Potter and helped with dinner. But regret wouldn't get rid of the knife at her throat, nor would it get Everett out of harm's way.

Think, Callie.

"You've got your facts wrong, Batton." Everett, hands raised, edged a step closer. "Look at my face, man. Lillian already destroyed me. She's the one who came out unscathed."

"Unscathed?" Batton's arm tightened around Callista's middle, making her ribs ache. "She's been sent to a private sanitorium in the Catskills. Shuttered away from society. From potential suitors. Her delicate mind bruised and imbalanced because you sullied her!"

The flat of the blade dragged across the underside of her chin, the sharp edge slicing her flesh as Batton whipped the knife out to point the bloodied tip toward Everett. The agonizing sting took her by surprise. She cried out and tried to reach for her neck, forgetting for a moment that her hands were still bound behind her back.

"Callista!" Everett leapt forward then had to spin sideways to miss the slashing arc of Batton's hunting knife.

"I'm all right!" There'd been no gush of blood, so the cut must have been shallow, even if it did hurt like the dickens.

She blinked away the tears causing her vision to blur and focused on Everett. She could not let Batton use her as a weapon against him.

"I did nothing to Lillian," Everett insisted as he backed away from the blade, circling around to her left. "I offered to draw her portrait, that is all. She is the one who sent everyone from the room to get me alone and throw herself at me."

"Liar!" Batton dragged Callista from the doorway, prowling forward to stalk Everett. "You wanted to trap her. Force her to marry you to gain society's favor."