by Mandy Baxter
“You make even a whimper, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, girl.”
Joel took his hand away from Livy’s mouth. She filled her lungs with air, fully prepared to defy him when she called to mind the memory of her dad, lying in a bloodied heap on the floor and beaten so badly he was unrecognizable. A sob lodged itself in Livy’s throat and the tremors that shook her body now had nothing to do with the cold. The stark realization that she was in fact going to die tonight hit her with the force of an avalanche. She wasn’t ready. She’d barely lived her life. She was in love, damn it! Maybe for the first time ever! It wasn’t fair!
The sound of glass shattering distracted Livy from her personal pity party. Hope soared in her chest as she waited for the wail of an alarm and then crashed to the ground on broken wings as she heard only silence. Why should she think her luck would change now?
Joel reached through the door where he broke out the pane and unlocked it. He pushed it open and sent a pile of snow into the house in the process. The snow wouldn’t be half as hard to clean up as her blood that would soon be splattered all over the living room, she supposed. Joel shoved her inside and Livy tried to force any more morbid thoughts from her mind. She might have been up shit creek without a paddle, but on the plus side, maybe now that she was inside the feeling would return to her legs and feet.
A little optimism couldn’t hurt, right?
Joel grabbed her by the neck of her sweater—Nick’s favorite sweater—and hauled her upright before throwing her back down on a long couch in the living room. The breath rushed from Livy’s lungs with the hard landing and she turned to glare her hatred at the man who loomed above her.
“You’re going to regret it if you rip my sweater.”
Joel leaned down, his lip curled into a sneer. “You got bigger problems than a goddamned sweater, girlie. You’re lucky I didn’t break your neck the second I got my hands on you.”
Livy bucked her chin in the air. “You’re not going to do shit to me until you get what you came here for.”
The show of bravado took more out of her than she expected. Livy was outgoing, sometimes crass, and she tried to be funny whenever she got the chance. She had an epic potty mouth. But none of that equated to bravery. She might have appeared tough, but inside, she was falling apart.
Joel leaned down until his nose almost met Livy’s. His breath reeked of beer and stale cigarettes and she swallowed down a gag. “You’re right about one thing. You have something that belongs to me, and I want it back.”
The only thing keeping her alive right now was Joel’s ledger. Did he seriously think she’d give it up so easily? “I don’t have it,” Livy said. “You know that guy you think you’re going to get rid of so easily? He’s a U.S. marshal. He knows who I am and he knows what I have.”
Joel cursed under his breath. He reached out and grabbed a handful of Livy’s hair. A cry of pain escaped her lips as he twisted and pulled. She felt the strands give way and she leaned in toward him to try to slacken his hold. He continued to twist until tears pooled in Livy’s eyes and he released his grip with a rough shove.
“That son of a bitch is gonna die, same as you are.”
“That’s what you think.” Fear lent Livy’s voice a quaver but she willed it to still. “Nick is one of their top fugitive hunters. He’s taken down more men than any other marshal in history.” Okay, so she had no idea if any of that was true, but he’d found her, hadn’t he? “He doesn’t even need a gun to be deadly.” She’d seen that with her own eyes. “You’re fucked, Joel.”
The back of his hand whipped across Livy’s face with a crack! Her tears flowed in earnest as white-hot pain exploded along her jaw and cheekbone. She spoke through her tears this time, in spite of them, and infused her tone with venom. “I memorized your ledger front to back. The marshals know every single person you’ve ever done business with. You can’t run far enough to get away from what’s coming for you.”
He hit her again, this time on the other side of her face. Livy cried out—there was only so much she could take—and she tried to breathe through the searing pain that set her face on fire. On the plus side, it distracted her from her frostbitten feet. Optimism! But it wasn’t enough to quell the fear that shook her to her very core. Despite the fact she was begging for it, Livy didn’t want to die. She didn’t want Nick to die. Joel . . . ? He could die painfully and violently for all she cared. But honestly, what she truly wanted was for him to rot in a jail cell. Isolated. Alone. Just like she’d been for the past four years.
“That better be a fucking lie,” Joel snarled next to her ear. “Because if it’s not, I’m going to give you to the cartel and let them deal with you. The things they’ll do to you will make you wish I’d killed you.”
Livy swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat. “Either way, you’ll be dead. That’s all I care about.”
“Where’s my goddamned ledger, Kari?” Joel gripped her by the wrist and gave it a sharp quarter turn that forced her to twist her entire body to keep it from snapping. “I want it. Now. And you’d better fucking give it to me.”
She met his gaze in the dark interior of the cabin and sneered. “Go to hell.”
He jerked her up to her feet. The pain she’d felt from his fist connecting with her face was nothing compared to the razor-sharp pins and needles in her feet. They’d finally begun to regain some feeling and it was about as pleasant as walking on broken glass. Livy’s legs gave out from under her and Joel yanked her upright once again, forcing her to stand.
“Where the fuck is it? And don’t jerk me around or I’ll beat that cocksucker marshal boyfriend of yours to death while I make you watch. Understand?”
Livy could take all of the threats Joel wanted to throw at her and then some. But the second he mentioned Nick, she lost it. Rage, hot and thick, boiled up in her throat. Livy’s hands balled into fists and she filled her lungs with air. “If you lay a finger on him, you’ll regret it!”
“Who’s gonna make me regret it?” Joel asked. “You? Fuck, you hid in the fucking closet while I beat that thieving son of a bitch Owens to death. You didn’t seem too concerned about saving his ass, did you?”
Maybe her dad had gotten what he deserved. Joel’s words stung, though. She hadn’t known her dad and when she finally got the chance to know him she realized that she’d been better off not having him in her life. Still, she’d never wanted anything truly bad to happen to him. And in the end, he’d shoved her into that closet. Tried to protect her. And that counted for something.
“That thieving son of a bitch,” Livy spat, “was my dad.”
Joel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re an even colder-hearted bitch than I gave you credit for, Kari. You just let your old man die while you hid. You gonna do that to your boyfriend, too? Throw him under the bus while you save your own skin?”
“Your ledger is in my cabin. I hid it under the floorboards in my bedroom. Not that getting it back is going to keep you safe from anything.”
“Let’s go get it then,” Joel growled as he grabbed her roughly by the wrist. “And don’t try anything or you and your boyfriend will pay for it.”
Livy’s heart thundered in her chest. Her mouth went dry and she thought she might throw up. Her legs ached, the cold seeped through her leggings and sweater to turn her skin to ice. Her feet ached as though someone had driven spikes into them and her hands weren’t faring much better. Her face felt swollen and it pulsed in time with her heartbeat; little shocks of pain to remind her of Joel’s capacity for violence. She couldn’t remember a time in her entire life that she’d endured so much abuse. Had hurt so much. She’d endure all of it and more, though, if it meant she could buy Nick a little bit of time. Maybe give him an opportunity for a fair fight with Joel’s last remaining guy. With any luck he’d get out of there in one piece. And she hoped that he wouldn’t play the hero.
Like her dad, she was getting exactly what she deserved.
* * *
Nick stuffed his cuffs in the back pocket of his jeans before he grabbed his badge and slung the lanyard around his neck. He retrieved his Glock from the closet and checked the clip. He wasn’t about to possibly confront local law enforcement, armed and without a badge to identify himself by. That was a damned good way to get his ass shot. He was looking to stay alive tonight. So far, so good.
His gut churned with nervous energy and his brain buzzed as he emptied the remaining bullets from the cylinder he’d taken off the guy who’d barged into Livy’s cabin. With one dead and two seriously wounded, Nick had managed to level the playing field somewhat. But there were still two of Joel’s guys out there who were unaccounted for and he had no idea where Livy was. He needed to hope for the best and expect the worst. And be prepared for anything.
Anything barreled through his front door in a blaze of gunfire.
Nick dove for the floor as the first spray of bullets struck the counter bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. A gunfight in the dark and the middle of winter was absolutely his least favorite scenario for the way this had all gone down. Each new complication, each shot fired, only kept Nick from finding Livy. And it pissed him the hell off.
A muzzle flash accompanied each shot and it didn’t do much to help Nick see in the dark. It did, however, give him something to aim at. The idiot currently unloading his clip into Nick’s kitchen didn’t seem to realize that all he was doing was wasting ammo. Guess he figured he’d get lucky with his blind shots and take Nick out before he had a chance to retaliate.
“Police!” Nick shouted. Hey, it was worth another try. Maybe one of Meecum’s guys had an ounce of self-preservation instinct. “U.S. marshal!”
Nope. The stupid son of a bitch didn’t even pause.
His assailant couldn’t have had more than fifteen rounds in his clip and as Nick counted them off, he waited for the opportunity to act. When the sound of gunfire echoed into silence and he heard the distinctive click that signaled an empty clip, Nick lunged from the cover of the kitchen counter ready to take his shot.
Only to find the bastard had taken cover.
Fucking great.
“Local law enforcement is on their way!” Nick called out. “If you surrender now, it’ll be easier for you. Put your hands up and step into plain sight.”
The sound of a clip sliding into place answered him. So much for diplomacy. Not that Nick had ever considered himself much of a diplomat. He could hide behind the counter and they could do this song and dance all over again, but he wasn’t interested in wasting another goddamned second. Livy was out there and could be hurt or worse. God, he hoped not worse. He’d be damned if anything or anyone got in the way of him finding her.
The thought that something horrible might have happened to Livy chilled his blood in a way that the winter cold never could. Fear unlike anything he’d ever felt gripped his heart with icy talons that wouldn’t let go. He had to find her, assure himself that she was safe before he went out of his damned mind with worry.
He squinted through the darkness as though that would help him to see. Nick knew all he was going to manage was a few wild shots. He’d settle for accidentally winging the bastard at this point. Nick pushed himself up from the floor, gun at the ready. He swung the weapon to his left, toward the hallway that led to the bedroom. His finger caressed the trigger as he waited....
A shadow to his right drew Nick’s attention and he swung his arm around, aimed at the open doorway, and squeezed off two successive shots. Steam rose from the body, illuminated by the bright snow outside, before it collapsed in the doorway and then landed on the floor. Nick’s arm dropped and he let out a shuddering breath as he braced a hand on the kitchen counter. It didn’t matter how many times he discharged his firearm, it never got easier. It never failed to rattle him.
Nick didn’t have time to be rattled or anything else. He charged through the front door, leaping over the body that blocked his path. Snow and sneakers weren’t the ideal combination and he nearly fell on his ass as he slid down the icy front steps of his porch.
Slow down. Assess your surroundings. Use your damned head.
Nick’s steps slowed as he hit the driveway. Visibility wasn’t great, but he could make out a trough in the middle of the tire tracks that marred the new snow that had fallen overnight. He took off toward the tracks and followed them down the lane. Nick’s heart hammered in his rib cage despite his measured pace. His heavy breaths fogged the early morning air and he fought to keep his focus on what he could see and hear, not the distressing images his overactive imagination wanted to conjure.
The tracks stopped at the end of the lane and cut across a small lot. Nick clutched the grip of his Glock as he waded through the deep snow and onto the next lane. From there, his pace quickened as he noticed the trail ended at a small cabin fifty yards away. The front door of the cabin was wide open, the interior dark. Nick took a stumbling step forward as the breath stalled in his chest. If anything had happened to Livy, someone would pay with their life.
Nick brought his gun up as he approached the front porch. Livy stepped out the front door at the same moment, her eyes wide with fear. Behind her, with a gun pressed to her temple, was the man Nick had spent months tracking down.
That the bastard would risk coming out of hiding only proved that the ledger Livy had in her possession had enough shit in it to put some heavy hitters away. It also proved that Joel had come in person because he didn’t trust anyone to clean up the mess but himself.
“Back away!” Meecum shouted. “Unless you want her brains scattered all over the snow.”
Nick held his hands up in the air and made a show of taking his finger off the trigger as he backed away from the porch. “Take it easy,” he said. “No one has to get hurt.”
Meecum snorted. “I’d say it’s a little late for promises like that, don’t you?”
True, the rest of Meecum’s guys were either bleeding or dead.
“Lose the piece.”
“I can’t do that.” The second Nick discarded his gun, he was dead.
“You want her to die?” Meecum asked.
Nick glanced at Livy. The eastern sky started to show the first signs of dawn and it cast her face in shades of gray that gave her an ashen pallor. Nick swallowed down the lump of emotion that rose in his throat. If Meecum shot her, he might as well shoot Nick, too, because he knew there was no way he’d ever be able to live without her.
“I think we both know that you can’t let her walk away from this.”
Livy flashed him a look that was half resignation, half fear. He hadn’t said anything that she didn’t already know. What he wanted to tell her was that he’d throw himself in front of a bullet before he ever let anything happen to her.
“We’re goin’ for a walk,” Meecum said. “If you try anything, I’ll make her watch while I drill a bullet in your head. Understand?”
Nick kept his arms up. “I hear you.”
Livy visibly trembled as Meecum guided her down the stairs. As they passed him, Nick realized that it wasn’t dawn’s light that gave her skin a deathlike hue. She was practically blue from the cold. Her face was swollen—one eye almost completely shut—and bruises marred both of her delicate cheeks. A wave of rage washed over Nick. If the local cops didn’t show up soon, he didn’t think he could keep himself on the straight and narrow and arrest Meecum like he knew he should.
Nick felt Livy’s pain in every step taken back to her house. Meecum had come for his ledger; Livy had obviously agreed to give it to him. By the time they walked the few hundred yards back to Livy’s house, her teeth chattered. Meecum came to a stop at the bottom of Livy’s stairs and he pulled her to a halt beside him.
“That’s close enough!” Meecum barked. “You’re making me twitchy, Deputy.” Nick sure fucking hoped so. “We’re going inside and you’re staying right fucking here. Understand?”
Right. Like Meecum would let him hang around on the porch while Livy got his l
edger. Nick knew that Meecum would shoot him the first chance he got. Nick didn’t think he could protect himself and Livy. If it came to a shootout, he had to hope he was the faster man on the trigger.
From the corner of his eye, Nick noticed Livy inch away from Meecum. He hooked his finger around the trigger of his Glock, ready to squeeze off a shot. A clump of heavy snow fell from the tree near Livy’s driveway. Meecum started and turned toward the sound at the exact moment Livy turned and reached for her snow shovel that stood propped against the deck. She swung it in a wide arc and caught Meecum in the face. He staggered backward and his revolver discharged.
“Livy, get down!”
She fell to the ground at the same moment Nick threw himself at Meecum. Snow flew up around them as they struggled. Meecum caught him in the gut with a wild swing and Nick doubled over. The pain barely registered in the wake of his adrenaline rush, though, and Nick countered with an uppercut that caught the bastard at the edge of his jaw. Nick used Meecum’s momentary disorientation to his advantage. He kicked out and caught him in the knee, sending him to the ground with a grunt. He followed up with a left hook that put Meecum down once and for all.
Nick didn’t waste another second. He dropped his Glock, threw himself fully on top of Meecum, and laid his knee into the son of a bitch’s back. With a jerk, he hauled one arm and then the other behind the bastard and held them in his left hand as he fished his cuffs from the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He secured them around Meecum’s wrists, sure to make them extra tight, as he read Miranda to one of the U.S. Marshals Office’s top fifteen most wanted fugitives.
“Joel Meecum,” Nick said with satisfaction. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
He repeated the words that he’d spoken a hundred times in the course of his career, but his focus was on Livy. Her face was swollen and bleeding, she shivered violently as she leaned on the shovel for support. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she took in lungsful of shuddering breaths that filled the air above her with steam. In the distance, the sounds of sirens grew louder and for the first time in what felt like hours, Nick let out a sigh of relief. He’d thought that cuffing Meecum would be one of the most profound moments of his career—hell—his life. But as his eyes drank in the woman who’d managed to steal his heart, he realized that there were much more important things in life than taking down the bad guy.
