Wicked Deeds On a Winter's Night
“Falling . . . fear for her rioting within him as he squeezed her tight. Landing . . . in deep water?
He blinked his eyes, wanting to roar at their fortune. No time. Rapids caught them.
As they surged forward, he shoved her above him, letting her get air, twisting to shield her from any collisions with rocks or debris.
Just as before, she’d run, but he would not let her die again. He began battling the current to get to the shore. Freed of the river, he tossed her to the bank, feeling her for injuries. He found none.
—She’s safe.— His female . . . unharmed. Over and over she’d been in jeopardy—his heart about to burst from his chest each time—yet somehow, in all that chaos, he’d kept her from injury.
She went to her hands and knees, but didn’t get far before collapsing onto her front. He dropped behind her, fighting to catch his breath. He’d been shot more times than he’d thought, but hadn’t felt them before. Now the wounds were taking their toll.
How long they lay like this, he didn’t know.
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