Page 48 of Her Guarded Hero

“Where’d Ned get the money, if he’d been fired again?”

“I don’t know.”

Dalton pressed him down harder.

“I swear,” Ricky shrieked, “I don’t know.”

“You knew you’d have to kill her, didn’t you?”

He didn’t say anything, so Dalton pressed his face into the rock until blood trickled over the stone.

“Yes, I knew.”

“What was tonight’s plan?”

“We wanted to get her away from you and all of her protection. We’d been watching the place. We knew men were ready to help her. If we provided a distraction, we thought I could pick her off. I was ready with my rifle.”

Just because he was pissed, Dalton picked up Ricky’s head and slammed it into the rock, not hard enough to make him pass out, or that any bones would break, he still needed to talk more, but enough that there would be a lot of pain.

After the screaming died down, Dalton heard a twig snap. Dalton let go of Ricky and lunged for his knife. He picked it up by the hilt, and out of the corner of his eye saw Ned holding a rock over his head. Dumbershit should have thrown it while he had the chance.

Dalton swung his knife in a wide arc and it caught Ned across his thigh and he went down in a stream of curses.

“You should have stayed put,” Dalton said grimly as he watched blood start streaming down the man’s leg. He turned back to Ricky who hadn’t moved a muscle.

Dalton didn’t hear anything but Ned’s crying and Ricky’s heavy breathing, but he waited, he just knew what was coming. He looked off into the woods and nodded when Tate materialized. Yep, the man had definitely been a Marine Raider.

“Can you use a hand getting these two back to the scene of the crime?” the older man asked.

“Almost.” Dalton turned to Ned.

“Where’d you get the money to pay Ricky?” he demanded of Ned.

“I stole it before I left my last gig.”

Figured. Dalton turned to Tate. “Let’s get this trash to the sheriff. Looks like Aurora is finally safe.”

* * *

“I need to go and change,” she said as they walked into house. She barely glanced at the big country kitchen that normally gave her a sense of peace.

“Honey sit down. You haven’t eaten a thing since last night. There’s plenty of food,” Gunnar said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Sit,” Dalton said.

She was seated in a kitchen chair before she even realized it. She pulled down at the stretchy black skirt of her dress. Gunnar magically put a piece of cheese and broccoli casserole in front of her.

“It’s warm, how’d you do that?” she asked listlessly.

“Mrs. Sanderson kept it in a thermal pouch for us when she dropped it off. Now eat, it’s one of your favorites.” Gunnar wrapped her hand around the fork.

She put it back down on the table.

“Don’t make me feed you. I’ve done it before,” he warned.

“I might just throw it up.”