Page 49 of Uncharted Desires

“There’s a fire in field four.”

“What? Why didn’t you say that right away?” Lock ran to the desk and grabbed a gun, handing it to the boy. “Don't let her outta your sight. I know this is the work of her man. If you see him, shoot first, ask questions later.”

The gun looked comically immense in the boy’s skinny hands. He weighed it in his palms, and Kat sincerely hoped he didn’t scare easily. One little sound and she had a feeling he’d be shooting that thing off.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she realized West was coming. That had been their plan—start a fire in the field—and he had done it. Why he had done it in broad daylight while everyone was awake, she had no idea, but he was coming to get her, and she felt entirely too giddy for a girl tied to a chair. She was also worried about him. This Williams kid was standing there with a gun he did not know how to use, and in her mind, that was more dangerous than someone who did. West wasn’t going to just walk through the front door, and if he spooked Williams, he was going to get himself shot quicker than he would if he had faced off against Lock.

She was formulating a plan to distract Williams when a blur of something raced across her peripheral vision.

It was West.

He was crouching behind some of the boxes that had been packaged to be shipped. His blue gaze struck her where she was, and relief and dread inundated her whole being. He was in danger if the boy caught him. Williams would shoot on sight, she was sure of it. She subtly shook her head, trying to get his attention, as she motioned toward Williams, in hopes he would see the gun in the kid’s hand.

West peered around a crate, and Kat saw he had the pocketknife in his hand.

Who brought a knife to a gunfight?

He wasn’t going to be able to do much with that. She had to distract the kid, but he wasn’t looking at her, and seemed not to have the same interest in her as Lock. A cougar, she apparently was not.

“Hey, Williams,” she said in her most sultry voice to get him to turn around. If West could sneak up on him, he could get the gun from him. He could easily overpower this scrawny boy, of that Kat had no doubt, but he was skittish, and that made her cautious. Williams didn’t turn around, and barely acknowledged her. “Shut it,” he yelled over his shoulder. He wasn’t the most intimidating, but he tried.

“How old are you?” she asked. “You can’t be more than, what, twenty?” She saw his jaw jump as he turned around, gun raised at her head.

“Old enough to shoot you. Didn’t I say shut it?”

West moved, inching closer to Williams.

Okay, that struck a nerve. She leaned on his anger to give West a chance. “Yes, you certainly are man enough to do that, so why don’t you go ahead and do it?”

He looked at her, confusion written on his face. “You want me to shoot you?”

“Lock said I’m dead either way, might as well go quickly. You’ll be merciful, right? Or maybe you’re not man enough to do it?”

She saw the anger return to his eyes as he cocked back the hammer on the gun. “Oh, I’m man enough. Lock will probably thank me for getting rid of you.”

He leveled the gun at her head, and Kat, never one for prayer, closed her eyes and prayed to the spirits of the earth that West would get to her in time before she had her brains splattered across the walls of this makeshift warehouse.

If she wasn’t about to get herself killed by some incompetent idiot who didn’t know the first thing about holding a gun, he might have killed her himself. Kat had lost her mind, and West was watching in slow motion as she stared down the barrel of a gun. He wanted to roar and make his presence known, but he knew he had to be stealthy about his attack. He had a perfectly good plan to disarm the boy, and then Kat had gone and pissed him off, causing him to turn the gun on her.

Now West was going to have to tackle him and save her rather than his original plan of sneaking up on the kid. He gripped the knife in his hand, and watched as the boy closed in on her head. Then he lunged at him, slipping his finger behind the trigger before he could pull it.

“What the . . .!” he yelled out as West used the pocketknife to stab the kid in the side. It wasn’t playing fair, but he had felt his heart pulled out of his chest and trampled the moment he had seen that gun pointed at Kat. He’d seen red and would kill him if he had to. No one would ever put her in that kind of danger. She was his. She just didn’t know it yet.

Surprisingly spry, the kid’s elbow sprung back and knocked West in the nose, sending him backward, his knife flying across the floor and landing behind Kat’s chair. West wiped at the blood trickling out of his nose as he regained his equilibrium. Losing to some snot-nosed kid half his age was not an option, but the gun was still securely in his hands.

West was a boxer and enjoyed sparring with his friends, but he had never been one for hand-to-hand combat, and he was not trained to disarm anyone. Seeing where he had cut the kid with the knife, West punched him in the wound. He cried out, and West lunged for the gun. They both grappled for control, and it went off. For a moment West stood still, worried Kat had been shot. It felt like his heart was lodged in his throat as he prayed that she was fine. Relief swamped his senses when he saw she was fine, more than fine. She had grabbed his knife and was trying to cut herself loose. Her face contorted in agony as she worked to cut herself free.

That had been a mistake, because Williams, the name Kat had called the kid, punched him in the face while he was distracted, and it wasn’t too shabby a hit. West’s head recoiled on impact; he stood, and the room went in and out of focus. He lunged for the gun and pulled, but Williams’s grip was stronger than he’d expected. With all the strength he had left, he pulled on the gun, but because of the awkward angle, it went flying across the floor. They both went after it, but Williams stopped him, punching him in the side. West doubled over in pain, and as Williams paused to celebrate his hit, West grabbed him around the waist and flung him to the floor.

West’s fist connected with the boy’s nose, with a bone-crunching punch that had to have broken it. The punch made his own hand hurt. It’s a good thing he wouldn’t be playing the guitar anytime soon because his fingers wouldn’t work right for a while. The boy cried out in pain, gripping his face and crying out as he grabbed his bleeding nose. With all his leftover strength, West gave one last punch, and the kid was out cold. West jumped off him and lunged for the gun, but just as he was about to get it, the older man showed up. Before West knew what was up, he was sucker punched in the face, sending him flying to the ground.

The pain sent sparks through his head, and he saw fireworks. He had been so close and had failed in the last second. The older man picked up the gun and pointed it at him.

“I should make you watch me shoot your girl first, but I’m not vindictive. It’s just business.” He pulled back the hammer, and West searched the room for Kat. He wanted to see her one last time before he died. That was all he wanted. One last gaze upon the woman he realized he was coming to care for, because at this moment, if he had one regret, it was that she didn’t know he was falling for her, and falling hard.

The man pulled the trigger, and the shot rang out. He felt nothing. West searched his body realizing he had no injuries. He sat up as the large man crumpled next to him, blood pooling under him.

West scrambled to his feet, searching for the shooter, and there she was.