Smiling, she turned to admire her Dom.
A man blocked her view—one of the men who’d returned from the deck. He wasn’t leaving. Oddly enough, this one didn’t look drunk or like a grad student. His hair was buzz cut along the sides and…
It was Weiss.
He pulled a pistol from his waistband, pointing it at Z.
“No!” She lunged, hitting him right in the back, making him stagger. The handgun fired with a sharp crack.
“You bitch.” Weiss spun, shoved her into the bar, and turned the pistol on her.
She froze, staring at the huge black barrel. His finger was on the trigger.
Gabe’s cane whacked into Weiss’s wrist, knocking his arm to one side.
Jessica felt the vibrations as the bullet hit the bar.
Reversing the cane, Gabe swung at Weiss’s head.
Weiss dodged and darted full speed out the deck door.
Clinging to the bar top, Jessica frantically scanned the room. Had the bullet hit Z?
She spotted him as he dashed out the door after Weiss.
“No, dammit.” She stared in disbelief.
Bull and Caz followed him.
At the lobby door, pistol pointing at the ceiling, deVries was brutally shoving through the crowd of drunks—the ones who must have inadvertently blocked him from shooting Weiss. He made it through and tore through the doorway after the others.
Jessica took two steps after them, and Gabe caught her around the waist. “Uh-uh, Blondie. We sit this one out.”
“But—”
“I know. It’d be fun to play, but not this time.”
To play? She stared at him incredulously. Men. Their brains really did get fried from all that testosterone.
Z was out there. Hunting a murderer in the night.
Chapter Ten
Zachary knew hunting an armed murderer in the dark was insane, but he wasn’t about to turn back. Not when the sight of his tiny wife slamming into a murderer kept replaying in his head. How the man’s pistol had swung toward her. If Gabriel hadn’t intervened, Weiss would have killed her.
Jessica. She had the guts of a warrior. He wouldn’t have her change, yet…he could so easily have lost her.
He’d not give Weiss another chance to hurt her.
Taking cover behind a tree, Zachary pulled the Glock from his ankle holster.
As sounds came from behind him, he half-turned.
A formless shape moved in the darkness, growing huge enough for him to identify the man. Bull.
Then another man silently slid through the wooded area. Moonlight gleamed off the blade in his hand. Cazador. Mako’d called him a natural hunter.
Dammit. He’d asked Mako’s sons to help keep watch—not to be out here. Not to risk their lives.
More fool him. He should have known they wouldn’t settle for being observers. Guilt swept through him. I’m sorry, Mako.
Shadows moved on the shoulder-high deck as deVries silently eased over the railing and disappeared into the darkness.
Zachary gritted his teeth. There were too many people in danger because of him. It was time to end this—and without getting any of his people killed.
A rustling came from ahead. A branch snapped. Weiss wasn’t as quiet in the woods as Mako’s sons were, and he was headed east.
East wasn’t good. The hotel backed up to the Fish Creek greenway—a strip of dense forest and underbrush. Farther east, the greenway opened into large parks with even more cover for Weiss.
“Herd him toward the creek,” Zachary said, just loud enough for Bull and deVries to hear.
A huff of breath came back as acknowledgement.
Zachary headed toward the rustling sound, detouring around underbrush, avoiding clear moonlit patches in case Weiss stopped running and started shooting. Stopping briefly, he shot several times at tree trunks he could see clearly, directing the fire to make Weiss veer right. Finished, he dove to the right behind a tree.
To the left, Bull fired several more shots, and deVries did the same.
Herding.
The rustling turned west. A moment later, the cracking sound of pistol fire split the night.
One bullet whizzed past Zachary, tearing through foliage. He fired at the muzzle flash, then to the left and right.
Even as he heard Weiss’s pained grunt, Zachary ducked behind a tree.
A bullet thunked into the trunk. Weiss’s return fire had almost caught him.
Zachary’s mouth went dry. Ice and heat danced over his skin. Every sound was amplified. Memories flashed like photos as he dropped back into a war zone of years before.
Not. Now. Closing his eyes, he pulled in a breath and shook off the flashback. Tightening his grip on the Glock, he moved forward.
He’d hit Weiss. Was it enough to slow him down?
More shots were exchanged.
Using the available cover, Zachary headed right. With muzzle flashes revealing their positions and trees hindering the lines of fire, it was 50/50 whether Weiss or someone else would get lucky first.
He needed to get closer.
Under the cover of fire, Zachary silently moved toward Weiss.
Farther to the left came voices. A woman was speaking. “What’s going on?”
Bull’s voice rose. “Hold fire. We have civilians in the area.”
Worse and worse.
The civilians were to the left. Zachary heard a rustling ahead and to his right. Quietly as possible, he trailed the sounds.
In the dappled moonlight, a crouched-over man darted through the brush, utilizing any available cover.
It was Weiss…probably. Or it could be some poor hiker fleeing an obvious war zone.
Zachary cursed silently. He couldn’t take the chance.
Closer.
In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder.
A branch snapped under his foot, the sound of breaking wood too loud. Even as Zachary dropped to the ground, a bullet thudded into the tree behind him.
More gunshots sounded as if Weiss was simply shooting blindly. In a circle.
A crash sounded. Someone had fallen.
Zachary’s jaw clenched.
“Stand up, asshole,” Weiss shouted at someone.
Zachary sprinted forward, stopping at the edge of a clearing. The moonlight illumined a nightmare.
Faced away from Zachary, Weiss held a gun on Bull who’d just risen to his feet. Blood streamed from Bull’s leg.
Weiss gestured with his pistol. “You’re gonna walk me out of here, you bastard. Tell your buddies to drop their weapons and come out where I can see them.”
Zachary couldn’t shoot Weiss in the back—the bullet would over-penetrate and hit Mako’s son, too. Or Weiss’s finger would spasm on the trigger with the same result.
Movement flickered on the other side of the clearing. DeVries. A glint of metal more to the right might be Cazador. But they’d have the same problem Zachary did.
Weiss must be made to point the pistol somewhere besides at Bull.
Jessica, if this ends badly, I’m sorry. Zachary stepped out from behind the tree. Into the open. “Ah, Mr. Weiss. What a surprise to find you here.”
“You!” Weiss spun, his handgun whipping around to target Zachary.
With a meaty thud, a knife lodged in the Marine’s back. His weapon fired.
Into the ground.
Staggering, he tried to lift his handgun—and another pistol cracked. The bullet struck Weiss in the temple. His knees buckled, and he dropped.
Surprised to be alive, Zachary let out a slow breath and bent down to check the man for a pulse. None.
Cazador shot a glare at the body before pulling another knife. He sliced through his own sleeve and ripped it off. Folding it, he pressed it against the bullet hole in Bull’s leg.
“Ow, shit, Caz, that hurts.”
“Oh, pobrecito.”
Brothers. Zachary smiled slightly and glanced at the three men. “I don’t have words enough to express my gratitude. But thank
you all.”
He got back nonchalant shrugs.
After helping Bull sit on the cold ground, Zachary took over holding the wound dressing. “Bull, I’m sorry. I didn’t want—”
“Stuff it, Grayson.” Bull stifled a groan as Cazador put pressure on the exit hole in the back of his thigh. “If the shot had busted my leg, I’d’ve been pissed, but this little bullet went through nice and pretty. I’m just glad Weiss wasn’t using a .45.”
“No shit,” deVries muttered. “Now that would’ve been a mess.” He glanced at Zachary. “Cops are headed this way. I’ll lead them in.”
* * * * *
When she’d heard the crackle of gunfire, Jessica had tried to run outside. Stupid, sure, but Z was out there.
Gabe had caught her around the waist and ruthlessly dragged her to a couch that faced the open deck door. After seating himself, he’d pulled her down and stretched his arm along the back cushion behind her. “We’re going to wait here, Blondie. Don’t even try to argue.”
Figuring his injuries would slow him down, she’d attempted escape. The jerk had hold of her long hair. Ow.
So they waited.
Even as the police arrived, swarming the private lounge, the deck, and into the blackness beyond, the firing had stopped.
Please, God, let Z be all right. Please.
No more gunfire had sounded for five minutes now. An eternity. Her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap her fingers had gone numb.
Damn you, Z. Why did he have to charge after Weiss? Anger rose, over and over, and died each time, because that’s who her Master was. He didn’t want someone else to take the risks for him. It wouldn’t have even occurred to him to step back.
Could a person love someone for a personality trait and hate it too?
“Breathe, Blondie.” Gabe put his hand over hers. When she glanced up at him, his dark blue eyes held the calm of a man far too familiar with violence and death. “We’ll know what happened in a few minutes. Hang in there.”
Please, please, please.
Voices came from outside, growing louder, the conversations all mixed up.
Bull’s subterranean bass. “Don’t think he was aiming, just shooting blindly. I caught a stray round—and went down.”
She felt Gabe’s hand tighten.
The harsh rasp of deVries’s voice. “Grayson stepped out to get his attention. The weapon fired.”
Fired? Fired?
No! Jessica tried to leap to her feet. Gabe still held her hair—and her hand. “Wait, girl.”
And finally, she heard Z’s deep, resonant voice. “Caz threw a knife—”
Gabe muttered, “Of course he did.”
“…a bullet in the head…” The thump of footsteps on the stairs and deck drowned Z’s voice out.
But he was alive. Alive.
“Now you can go, Blondie.” Gabe gave her hair a tug and released her.
She flew across the room, out the door, and past the first group of men. There. All she could see was Z—and she ran straight at him.
Knowing he’d catch her.
As his arms wrapped around her and he sighed and rubbed his cheek in her hair with a murmured, “Kitten,” she knew he was all right.
They were all right—and so was her world.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Zachary visited the hotel staff offices to offer verbal and tangible thanks for their help with Mako’s reception.
And the police and shoot-out. Not what any respectable hotel wanted on the premises.
Everyone had been quite understanding.
Crossing the lobby toward the elevators, he hesitated. He was in dire need of coffee. The brand available in the room wasn’t what he’d call drinkable. Turning, he headed for the hotel restaurant.
Jessica had still been asleep when he left the room. No surprise. In many ways, it was easier to be the person in danger rather than the one waiting and worrying.
Of course, her need to sleep in this morning might be because he’d had an excess of adrenaline to burn off last night. She hadn’t complained.
He smiled. She hadn’t been able to. After he’d aroused her to loud pleading, the people in the room next door (not deVries) had pounded on the wall. Hearing them, his little subbie had smirked and said he’d better let her climax.
Instead, he’d gagged her and kept her on the brink until she was shaking with need.
After they’d both come, she’d sworn at him, first in English followed by Andrea’s favorite Spanish insults.
She’d apparently forgotten he knew Spanish.
He’d obviously been slipping as a Dom and Master. So he let her sleep and woke her up a couple of hours later for her punishment. Five swats—in various places—for each insult.
Then he’d taken her hard.
The neighbors would undoubtedly request a new room today.
“Good morning. Will anyone be joining you today?” The perky hostess had a cheerful smile.
“Possibly.”
“Very good. Follow me, please.” The restaurant, decorated in rich greens and browns, was fragrant with the aromas of bacon and coffee. After texting Jessica so she’d know where he was, he followed the hostess into the sunny restaurant.
Gabriel was seated at a window table.
“Excuse me, miss. I see a friend over there.” Zachary motioned.
“Of course.” She veered to the table where Mako’s oldest son sat.
“Good morning. May I join you?” Zachary started to smile and then frowned.
Gabriel’s face was tight with pain. Dark circles ringed his eyes. “Sure. Have a seat.” He pushed out a chair with his foot.
The hostess set out another place setting and the menu. “I’ll be back with coffee.”
“Thank you.” Zachary took a seat. “How is Bull’s leg?”
“It’ll be fine. Nice and clean, right through the outside muscle. Caz took him home from the ER and intends to babysit the wound care.”
Dammit, Bull had been hurt because of him. Even as guilt swept over Zachary, Gabe shook his head.
“You didn’t push him out that door, Grayson. Even if you weren’t a friend, Bull’s not one to sit out a fight. We weren’t raised that way.”
“I suppose not.” Zachary shook his head. “Nonetheless, I’m grateful. To all of you. Thank you.”
Just as his brothers had, Gabe shrugged and changed the subject. “Were you there when the lieutenant talked to the grad students?”
“The ones who opened the deck door? No.”
“Heh. Turns out Weiss had been in the cocktail lounge and said there were strippers outside on the deck. He gave himself an easy back way into the reception.”
“Ah, I’d wondered about that. He was cleverer than expected.” Zachary leaned back in his chair and studied Gabriel. “You don’t look as if you had any sleep last night.”
“Not much.” Gabriel gave him a sardonic look. “After the police interviewed you and Jessica and you left, the lieutenant showed up with more questions.”
Zachary straightened. An interruption last night would have been quite annoying. “I take it you fended him off for us?”
“Yeah. I knew him from my rookie days on the force, so he let me and the others fill him in rather than summon you back. You owe me, Grayson.”
“Indeed. What would you deem to be adequate reparation?” As the hostess set down a steaming cup of coffee, Zachary murmured his thanks and took his first sip. Hot, black, and fragrant.
The day was looking up.
Even as Gabe considered what outrageous deed he might ask for, he spotted Grayson’s pretty woman entering the restaurant.
Blonde hair dancing over her shoulders, spring-green eyes, gorgeously curvy. All good, but what caught a man’s eyes was how her face brightened when she spotted her husband.
And how her lips were kiss-swollen, her cheeks beard-burned, and her expression radiated happiness. She looked like a woman who’d been taken well and often—
and thoroughly satisfied.
Grayson followed his gaze. Rising, he held his hand out. “Good morning, kitten.”
“Good morning, Ma…my husband. I see you’ve found a source for coffee.”
“I did.”
Gabe stood as she joined them and remained standing. “It was good to see you two, but I have a physical therapy appointment in half an hour.” One he didn’t want to miss, since he needed the therapist to recommend exercises for independent therapy. For an extended period. Like a winter of being snowed-in.
“Will we see you again?” Jessica’s brows drew together.
Unlikely, since he’d already checked out. “Hard to say, Blondie. I’m staying with Caz for a few days before leaving for the cabin.”
Grayson’s mouth tightened with his disapproval. “Gabriel…”
“Sorry, Doc. It’s my choice to make, idiotic or not. I’ve spent many a winter in that cabin.” In quiet and isolation, because there was nothing he wanted right now more than a world with no people in it.
“I can’t stop you.” Grayson gave him a level look. “But if you’re still holed up there after breakup next spring, I’ll come and yank you out.”
“Jesus, you’re a stubborn bastard.” Yet the ice around his heart melted some with the warmth of Grayson’s concern. “You two take care of each other.”
As he limped away, he heard Jessica say, “You gave him that stare that sends me to my knees…and he called you a bastard. The man has balls.”
The shrink laughed, something Gabe hadn’t often heard from him.
Good for you, Blondie. Grayson was a good man—and he had a fine woman to stand by him.
Gabe wasn’t feeling envy, not really. He didn’t want a woman, not when he hurt as if someone had tried to rip him apart with bullets.
Oh, right—they had.
As he walked into the lobby, he rubbed his shoulder. Felt like a wolf’s fangs were digging into the joint.
Even if he wasn’t hurting, he didn’t want a woman. Didn’t want anyone. Mako’s cabin in the middle of the wilderness was calling to him like a homing beacon for a lost soul.
He needed to talk his brothers into helping him haul a winter’s worth of supplies out to the cabin. That wouldn’t be easy. Brothers were a pain in the ass.
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