Page 1 of Her Guarded Hero

1

The rifle shot was followed by a woman’s shout. Not a scream, a shout. He heard rapid horse beats. They were coming towards him. Dalton Sullivan ducked behind one of the Ponderosa pines, his gun in his hand.

The horse and rider came into view. Another rifle shot. This time there was a scream. It didn’t sound human. The horse reared up. Scratch that, the beast was literally standing up on his hind legs as if he was a person, but somehow the rider stayed on.

“Siren calm down.” He heard a woman’s calm voice.

So, it was a woman on the horse, but she couldn’t stay on for long, no matter how soothing her tone. Dalton took in the blood on the palomino’s flank. The woman must not have been hit by a bullet, because she wouldn’t still be holding onto the horse. Dalton watched as her golden hair streamed and whirled around her, glinting in the sunlight.

Amazingly, the horse came back down and shot its legs backwards and bucked again, but somehow the woman stayed planted. Once more the horse bucked and twisted, and the rider moved fluidly with the animal, like they were one perfect being.

It was when another shot rang out that she bent sideways and lost her balance. Grimly, he watched as she literally flew the twenty feet toward him. She tucked and rolled like a pro, but still the forest floor was pretty damn hard here in Lake Tahoe.

Dammit! Why wasn’t she wearing a helmet?

She swung out her arms, trying to reach for any kind of underbrush that might stop her from rolling down the hill, but there wasn’t a lot. Dalton ran and jumped over her slim body, bracing himself in front of one of the tall pine trees so that he could cushion her stop. She groaned when she rolled into his waiting arms.

She looked up at him, dazed. He saw blood dripping down her face from what looked like a laceration on her scalp. Her hair was in the way, he couldn’t see if it was deep, but it was bleeding like a son-of-a-bitch, he hated head wounds.

“Siren?” she asked softly. He ignored her. He needed to check her out and see how badly she was injured.

She grabbed at his sweater and levered herself up, her gaze was fierce. “Did you see my horse?”

Dalton admired her grit, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about her. He gently pulled her hands away.

“You need to lie back. I need to check you out,” he said gently.

“Did you see Siren? I think she was shot.”

Last Dalton had seen, the horse had run off down the steep hill towards the pristine blue water of Lake Tahoe. “Seeing how well she was running, I’d say she was fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Do you promise not to move if I go get my backpack?”

As soon as he stood up, she rolled over on her knees and started to get up.

“Dammit Woman, I said stay still.”

“I’m fine,” she gasped. Then she groaned and rolled back over. “Okay, I’m not fine. I’ll just rest here for a moment.”

Dalton dashed over to his pack and was back in under a minute. Her blonde hair was quickly turning to orange from all the blood. He had field medic training, all the SEAL’s on the Black Dawn team did. He knelt beside her and foraged through his backpack and grabbed at a clean pair of white socks. He gently placed one against her forehead.

She immediately grabbed it out of his hand and pressed it against her scalp.

“I’m fine,” she assured him.

Sure, she was.

Now that she was holding the compress, Dalton started to check the rest of her out. He was pretty sure nothing was broken after the way she had gotten onto her knees, but he wanted to be sure. “Tell me if anything hurts.”

“I’m good,” she said as his hands competently checked her out. When he touched her right hip, she sucked in a deep breath.

“How bad is it?” he asked her.

“Nothing’s broken. But I’m going to have a hell of a bruise.”

She seemed coherent, which was great. He grabbed his first aid kit out of pack and opened a cleansing wipe packet. He needed to see what he was dealing with. He wiped the gash on her forehead clean and she winced.

“You’re going to need stitches.”

“There goes my modeling career,” she quipped.