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She rounded a small ledge and let out a sob of relief when she saw Tanner standing at the edge of the water. He was swaying almost drunkenly, his big body tilted at an odd angle, his shoulder held awkwardly.

He made some sort of jerky movement, shifting to the side clumsily, and Bree realized the paramedic guy was right behind him. They were fighting. Or...trying to fight. The awkward, stiff movements Tanner was making were definitely not the complex fighting maneuvers she knew he was capable of.

She winced as the paramedic got a solid hook into Tanner’s jaw. Tanner stumbled to the side but didn’t go down. His left arm still held awkwardly at an angle to his side, Tanner got his own punch in.

Bree kept moving toward them, not wanting to call out and distract Tanner. After another couple of minutes and a few more exhausted punches from both sides, it became evident Tanner was going to triumph.

She was almost to Tanner when his last brutal uppercut to the paramedic’s chin sent the man flying back and into the water. He probably would’ve drowned, but Tanner grabbed him with his good hand and dragged him to the shore, leaving him.

The relief she felt at seeing him alive, and the other man unconscious, wiped the last strength she had, almost causing her to collapse in the water. She slowed to a walk, the fifteen yards she was from Tanner seeming like a mile. She yelled to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the storm.

He was looking up at the ridge, and she realized he was looking for her. She called out to him, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears, and he turned. The relief she saw in his eyes, the way his posture relaxed to know that she was alive and unharmed filled her heart almost to bursting.

She stumbled toward him, her own movements jerky with cold and fatigue. She felt like she would never be warm again. She couldn’t imagine what Tanner felt like with his body still submerged to midthigh.

Then the whole world seemed to turn black in front of her as the man behind Tanner got to his feet, a huge branch in his hand, held up like a club.

She opened her mouth to scream a warning to Tanner but knew he couldn’t hear her. And it would come too late. She did the only thing she could—swung up the gun in her hand and pointed it in the man’s direction.

But to Tanner it had to look like she was pointing it directly at him.

His face blanched, but then without her having to explain the plan, without her even knowing what the plan could be, he dropped like a rock into the water, giving her a clear shot of her target.

Tanner trusted her.

Bree didn’t hesitate. She squeezed the trigger gently twice the way he’d taught her, aiming for the paramedic’s chest—the largest mass.

Surprise lit his face as the force of the shots propelled him backward.

He took one more step forward before falling facedown into the water, the river carrying him away. Bree ignored him, moving as quickly as she could over to Tanner, who was struggling to regain his footing in the water.

She’d killed a man. She would have to deal with that later. Because unless she got them somewhere where they could dry off and warm up, there was going to be more than just one dead body.

She worked herself around to Tanner’s less-injured side. Close up, she realized just how much worse his injuries were than she’d realized. His arm was definitely dislocated, but there was also a gash on his head and his face was chalk white.

She stuffed the gun into the waistband of her jeans as she wrapped her arm around Tanner’s hips when he staggered. “We’ve got to get you somewhere you can get dry and warm.”

He didn’t argue. Couldn’t even seem to find the strength to say anything, just nodded.

What was the best plan? Downstream toward the town? But what about the other hunters? They had to have heard all the gunfire and could show up any moment. How many bullets were left in the gun she had? She fought down her panic at not knowing what to do.

“Up—up bridge.” His words were so jerky she almost couldn’t understand them.

“You want us to go upriver? That’s farther away from help.”

“Shelter.” He was already swaying on his feet. “Sh-shelter by bridge.”

She moved directly in front of him, cupping his cheeks with her hands, looking deep into his eyes. It would’ve been romantic if they both weren’t freezing, and he wasn’t injured, and she hadn’t killed somebody, and other people weren’t still hunting them. Romantic.

“Tanner, I need to make sure you’re lucid. If you send us upriver and there’s nothing there...”

“Shelter. Trust.”

She did trust him the same way he’d just trusted her rather than stop and ask why the heck she was pointing a gun at him. He would’ve been dead if he’d done that.

He knew these woods. He knew where they were. She would trust that the shelter was where he said it was.

They began walking up the riverbed, one slow step at a time. Within just a few minutes Tanner wasn’t even trying to keep his weight off her. When he began wanting to rest, she knew they were in even bigger trouble. If Tanner sat down, there was no way she was going to be able to get him on his feet again. Tanner finally collapsed completely against her just about the time they rounded a corner and she saw the bridge.