Dangerous Refuge

chapter Fifty-two



There was a savage, animal growl in the instant before Ace went flying, literally kicked away from her by Tanner. Ace screamed—a high, thin sound of pain and fury. Then Tanner was on him.

In the glancing illumination of the flashlight, Shaye could see only a turmoil of arms and legs, the gleam of sweat and blood, eyes and teeth, a bald head thrashing. Jeans-clad legs kicked, scissored. There was a horrible crack—bone not bullet—and a silence broken by only one man’s ragged breathing.

Tanner staggered from the darkness and fell to his knees by her. “Shaye? Honey?”

“Lost—your gun,” she panted. “Ace—”

“Don’t worry.”

“But—”

“He’s dead.”

At Tanner’s words, she felt like a balloon with all the air whooshing out. The night began spinning around her. She stretched out on the ground to steady herself.

With a groan, he crumpled alongside her, his body curled protectively around her.

“Tanner?”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Better than you. Just dizzy for a moment.”

A groan was his only answer. She nuzzled against his sweaty neck. His good arm pulled her closer.

“Thought—I’d lost you,” he managed.

“I’m not easy to lose.”

“Stay with me. Promise.”

“Always,” she said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“We should get up,” she said after a few minutes.

“Ladies first,” he mumbled.

Then he groaned and got up, helping her to do the same. Her leg was unsteady, his head beat in time with his heart, and his right hand wasn’t much good, but they were alive. Using each other as an uncertain brace, they hobbled toward the Bronco.

Neither of them glanced at the lump of darkness they left behind.