Chapter 12

Christ, they were twenty minutes from the house. He'd never heard that tone in her voice and damn if nothing in all his experiences sounded worse. The radio silence was almost more frightening than her frenzied request.

What in the hell could've happened? She was supposed to be in the barn putting on horseshoes.

He drove them as fast as the vehicle would allow over hills and across the prairie, but Nate could almost run faster than the damn thing. Nakos keyed up all the ranch hands on the walkie-talkie, but none of them were closer than they were.

"Hell." Nakos growled. "She's not responding and Mae's not answering the house line."

"I'm going as fast as I can." Not fast enough, though.

Some protector Nate turned out to be. The first time he wasn't within spitting distance of Olivia, and she was in trouble. The most ungodly scenarios shoved through his mind and acid burned a path from his gut to his throat.

Finally, he rounded a bend and parked not far from the barn. Both he and Nakos dismounted and rushed to where Mae had been pacing, her white hair flying around her face in the wind.

She ran over, meeting them halfway. With wide, blue eyes, she pressed her finger to her lips, telling them to be quiet. "Amy stumbled into the barn about an hour ago and collapsed, covered head-to-toe with bruises. We called Hank. Doc's on the way."

"Who's Amy?" Or Hank, for that matter?

Mae sighed, her brows tight in concern. "Kyle's sister and Olivia's best friend."

Nakos, mouth grim, tried to round Mae, but she grabbed his arm. "Listen to me." She made a sound of duress. "After we phoned the doc, Amy's husband Chris showed up. With a gun. He has the girls in the barn. I called Rip, but he's thirty minutes out on a traffic problem."

Nate's heart stopped so fast, it left skid marks.

Obviously having heard enough, Nakos stalked to the ATV, pulled a revolver from the bag, detached a rifle from the back, and handed the smaller piece to Nate. "You go in the front. I'll head around back. We'll cover both sides."

Nate checked the chamber, finding it loaded, and nodded. He glanced at Mae. "Wait here."

He strode to the open barn door, his heart firing on all cylinders. Unable to catch his breath for fear of Olivia being hurtor worsehe ducked his head inside the structure and forced himself to rely on training over emotion.

Olivia sat on the floor halfway between the front and back exits, a dark-haired woman sprawled in front of her, head in her lap. A walkie-talkie was in pieces and partially under a stall. From what he could tell, the entire right side of what he assumed was Amy's face was puffy. Bloody nose, eye swollen shut, cut lip. She barely seemed conscious.

The husband stood off to the side, too close for comfort, with a 9mm aimed at the ground. His jogging pants were dirty and his sweatshirt didn't fare much better. The stench of beer engulfed soil and hay, burning Nate's nose. The prick was a scrawny bastard, too.

Rage pounded Nate's temples, and he tried to dial it back to think clearly. Only a sad sack hit a woman. Assuming this was a domestic case, which it appeared to be. And then to bring a weapon into the mix, involving someone else to boot, made this prick not worth the shit Nate wiped off his shoes.

Nakos poked his head around the door on the other side, nodded at Nate, and lifted the rifle. "Drop it, Chris."

The guy flinched and pressed the barrel to Olivia's forehead. She closed her eyes on a whimper, a tear trickling down her too-pale and soiled cheek.

Oh, hell no.

Nate lifted his revolver, bracing the bottom with his other hand. "He said drop it."

Chris turned his head and stumbled to the side, sending Nate's pulse toward stroke-level. "Who're you?"

Great. Slurring his words, barely on his feet, and drunk off his ass. This situation just kept getting better.

"Lower the weapon or you'll never find out." Slowly, Nate stepped deeper into the barn.

Nakos followed suit until both of them had Chris trapped.

"This is a private matter." Chris shoved the barrel at Olivia so hard, her head snapped back.

She sucked in a harsh breath, trembling.

This fucker's balls were going to become intimate with Nate's boot. And his fists. Soon as the gun was out of play. "Private is what your jail cell will look like." Right after a very long hospital visit. "Drop. It. Now."

"Nate." Nakos's determined gaze flicked to his and back to Chris. "I don't see a fly, but there's a donkey's ass right there."

Nate's words from his conversation with Nakos back at the fence. Got it. But Chris's trigger finger could twitch before Nate got things handled. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"What in the hell?" Chris spun, jerking the barrel away from Olivia...

And there was the opening.

"Olivia, baby. Don't move." Nate fired a shot, hitting the brim of the prick's tan cowboy hat and spinning it off his head.

Neighs rent the air. Hooves stomped dirt inside the stalls.

While Chris reeled and dropped the weapon, Nate strode forward, shoved his revolver in his waistband, and planted Chris face-first in the dirt. With a knee between his shoulders and a firm hand on the back of his neck to hold him, Nate toed the gun farther from them.

He whipped his attention to Olivia. "Did he hurt you?" Christ, say no. He visually scanned her for injuries, finding nothing. But that didn't mean...

She shook her head repeatedly, tears leaving tracks on her dirty cheeks. Her gaze dropped to Amy. "She's pretty bad, though."

Nakos set his rifle behind him and squatted next to the women. "You've looked better, Ames."

She tried to smile, but it reopened her lip and sent blood trickling down her chin.

"Mae!" Nakos ran his hands down Amy's arms, her legs. "Do you think anything's broken?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes.

"Hank's here." Mae ran into the barn, quickly scanned her surroundings, and knelt beside Nakos. "Rip is just pulling in, too. We'll get you all fixed up, sweetheart."

"Let me up!" Chris squirmed, but got nowhere for the effort.

Nate dug his knee deeper into the bastard's spine. "You ever want use of your legs again, you'll shut up and stay still."

Turned out, Hank was a two-hundred pound, fifty-year-old woman with black hair down to her ass. She walked in carrying a doctor's bag circa the 1900s with one hand on her hip.

"Well, give her some room." She set the bag down, opened it, and knelt on Amy's other side, shining a penlight in her eyes. "Where'd he hit you and with what?"

"His fists." Amy struggled to draw breath and winced. "Kicked my side. Punched my face."

"Nothing on the back or neck? Did you fall at any time?"

"No." Amy closed her eyes.

"She needs an ambulance." Nate had to shove his homicidal rage back into a hidey hole at seeing her curvy form mottled with injuries. Flashes of Darla swam before his eyes and he involuntarily squeezed Chris's neck. The guy cried out, and Nate loosened his grip.

"Closest hospital is in Casper. We've got it handled." Hank sighed. "Olivia, you got a room for her? I need to better examine her."

"Yes." She glanced at Mae. "We can put her in the extra guestroom."

"All right." Hank stood. "Nakos?"

"Yeah. I've got her." With an arm under her knees and behind her back, he lifted Amy and cradled her to his chest. At her wince, he froze. "I'm sorry. I'll go slow."

A forty-something man with a Fu Manchu and brown officer's uniform waddled into the barn, favoring one leg. He ran a hand over his thinning brown hair. "I apologize for the delay. The Hendersons decided it was a good idea to plow their minivan into the Garrison's ditch and take out a mailbox in the process." He glanced from Nate to Chris to Amy in Nakos's arms, then finally, Olivia. "Looks like you got it covered."

"I'm taking Ames up to the house." Nakos strode out, Mae and Hank on his heels.

Chris squirmed. "I didn't do nothin', Rip."

The sheriff lifted his thick brows. "Doesn't look like nothin' on your wife's face. She run into a wall all by herself? A hundred or so times? Is that your story?"

Nate gritted his teeth. "He had Olivia and Amy at gunpoint when Nakos and I got here."

"And who might you be, son?"

"Nathan Roldan, retired U.S. Army and her new...handyman."

Rip swiveled his attention to Olivia. "That true?"

"Yes." She rose unsteadily to her feet, looking like a gentle breeze could topple her.

Nate shook his head and gnashed his molars into a fine powder. "Could you slap some handcuffs on him, please?" He needed to take care of Olivia before the adrenaline crash fully hit her. He shook with the urge to drag her against him and simultaneously comfort them both.

Silently, Rip pulled cuffs off his belt and secured them on Chris's wrists behind his back. "Sit up, now."

Chris, with a petulant scowl, did as he was told.

Nate rose and stretched, then collected the guns. He held up the rifle. "Nakos's." The revolver. "Mine." And the 9mm. "Douchebag's."

"Give me the short version." Rip took the 9mm, put it in a bag he pulled from his pocket, and stared at Olivia. "We'll get into details later at the station."

She ran a shaking hand across her forehead while Nate set the remaining weapons on the floor. "I was here with the horses when Amy stumbled in looking like..." Her voice hitched and her eyes welled. "Looking like that. She collapsed. I guess she'd walked all the way here, though I don't know how. She didn't say much. Chris showed up. He held the gun on us. Nakos and Nate came. And..." She shrugged. "They diffused the problem."

"Good enough. Let's go, Chris." Rip hauled the guy to his feet. "Tell Amy I'll come get a statement from her tomorrow, if she's up to it."

Olivia nodded. Once Rip left, she closed her eyes and let out the most God-awful sob Nate had ever heard.

And that was it. The straw that broke the soldier's back.

He erased the short distance between them and pulled her against him. She pressed her face to his chest while he wrapped his arms around her tight enough to crack ribs. He breathed for the first time in an hour and struggled to bank the need to kiss the shit out of her in sheer relief. She trembled, and he kissed the top of her head, letting his lips linger in her rain-scented hair.

He ran his hand down her braid and closed his eyes. "You're all right. Everyone's safe." A few thousand more times, and he might get his heartbeat to believe the words.

"Safe," she muttered against his chest and went eerily still. Her fingers fisted his tee as she slowly lifted her head. Her cornflower gaze swept over his face, wide and unblinking. "Safe," she repeated as if in afterthought. A small wrinkle formed between her brows like she'd come to some sort of conclusion while he tried to figure out what the equation was in the first place.

"Oh God." She unfurled her fingers from his shirt and stepped away so quickly, he got whiplash. "I did it again and..." She waved her hand, indicating them. "I'm sorry. I can't..." Turning, she jogged toward the exit.

Damn it. "Olivia."

But she was gone.