by Mary Winter
He went to her and clasped her hands in his. They were cold and she shook. He snatched a hoodie from its place over one tent pole and wrapped it around her shoulders. Not telling her about the camera seemed like a bad move now.
“How—How did they get the pictures?” She squeezed his hands. “Not even Jaime did something like this. Who would do this? Who is hurting me?” She closed her eyes and took several more deep breaths. “Damn it. I’m stronger than this.”
“Hank called. It looks like a local who doesn’t want you to publicize the wild horses here because he’s hoping his family will get the grazing rights to this land. I have a plan.”
She cursed, low and pithy. “He’s despicable if he’s doing something like this to scare me off. Disgusting.” She squared her shoulders and the fight was back in her eyes. “What’s your plan?”
He told her, and the more he spoke the more at ease she got. Maybe it was because it dealt with her taking the pictures she was there to take. Or maybe it was just that he had a plan of action so she wasn’t alone. Either way, he sensed the fight rising within her and by the time he was finished speaking, she was dressed, geared up, and ready to go.
~* * *~
Hearing Logan say, “we’re going to get your pictures no matter what” energized her. The photos, he assured her, could be traced and removed. He also admitted he thought he’d found a camera that they were working on tracing and destroying as well. She knew nothing would be completely removed from the Internet, but it also appeared these pictures hadn’t been posted yet. Hopefully they could be found before something happened. If not, she’d deal. No doubt someone she knew would have a good PR firm to help manage this. Frankly, after getting shot at, the nudes bothered her only so much as they invaded her privacy. It seemed more intimate, more threatening than getting shot. Bullet wounds healed.
His casual mention of finding, then disabling the camera bothered her. The fact he hadn’t told her until the pictures had arrived seemed a bit high handed. He should have told her, explained to her what he’d found. She knew the implications. She took photographs for a living after all.
They hiked back out to the ridge. After telling Logan to stay behind her, though closer to the trees this time, she set up her gear along the ridge. The horses were just coming down for a drink and this time they had a foal, maybe four months old, with them. Her heart warmed. She snapped several pictures, including a couple of close ups of the baby, before zooming out to get the group in a single shot. The horses moved, seemingly unaware of the people. They stopped by a small pond and began to drink. She captured several more poses.
While the horses continued to drink, she reviewed the pictures on her camera. Several nice shots, maybe not quite enough for a full calendar. Feeling proud of her work, she jerked when Logan’s hand touched her ankle—their agreed upon signal.
“Don’t move, but someone is in the trees. Keep taking pictures. We can’t let on that we know he’s here. I don’t think he sees me. I’m going to go see if I can get closer. Domino is at your camp, keeping watch.”
“Domino?”
“Caid.”
She nodded and lifted her camera again. With the big man back at her camp, it seemed marginally safer. Jenny might not feel that way, and she grinned at Logan’s sister’s response to him. Erika heard, though just barely, Logan move away from her, toward the trees. Just then a second foal emerged, and Erika lost herself in taking photographs, ever aware that Logan moved toward her assailant, and the last time they’d been out here, he’d had a gun.
Time moved slowly. She’d heard it said before, had thought it to be a cliché, but looking through her viewfinder, pretending to take pictures, a minute seemed like an eternity. Ever aware that Logan moved closer to danger. She struggled to keep her heart from pounding. Animals sensed nervousness. Some kind of primal connection all creatures shared in the wild made others startle when danger was sensed. Just like a bird calling an alarm on the Serengeti alerted giraffes and gazelles to a prowling lion, her pounding heart would be sensed by nearby wildlife, and one of them might sound the alarm to send the horses galloping back to the safety of the hills.
She longed to be like the horses, racing away from danger with the surefooted knowledge that they’d successfully outrun it. The mustang never worried about the cougar, and her Mustang, Logan, never appeared to worry about danger, either. She snapped a few more shots, this time focusing on a hawk perched on a tree branch over the horses. If they were to have a future, she’d have to get used to danger. Reaching for her canteen, she wondered if she ever would.
At last the horses sated their thirst and moved back up the hill toward their grazing lands. Occasional bird calls broke the soft sounds of the breeze rustling grasses and leaves. The hair on her arms stood on end. She wanted to move and see if she could see Logan. Doing so would give away his position. Her cell hung in its holster on her leg; they hadn’t talked about exchanging messages. She doubted he’d be texting while hunting down a bad guy anyway. She scanned the ridge with her camera, heightening the zoom to see if she could capture any more interesting shots.
A figure caught her attention. Walking low along the ridge, rifle held in his hand, he moved toward the horses. Erika frowned and zoomed in with her camera. The man wore camouflage, without the bright safety orange to indicate he was a hunter. He moved with determination. When he saw the horses, he stopped and knelt. She scanned back to the horses; they hadn’t noticed the man. Through her camera, she watched him lift his rifle, aiming right at the horses.
Erika burst from her cover, not caring if she startled the horses. “Hey!” She yelled, praying her voice would be heard across the valley dividing them. “What are you doing? Hey!”
The man stood and turned, the rifle moving with him until it was pointed at her.
She dropped her camera, the heavy instrument thudding against her chest as it reached the limits of the strap holding it around her neck. She ducked, diving for the ground without a care for her own safety. The sharp report of the rifle filled the air.
“Erika!” Logan yelled. Shots came from her right.
Buckshot peppered the ground in front of her. Scurrying backwards, she lifted her camera. Damn it, if she was going to die, she’d find out who was trying to shoot the mustangs. She zoomed in on the man’s face, angry and dirty, with thin lips and deep lines around his eyes. She snapped a couple of shots, then rolled as the shotgun fired again.
More buckshot hit the ground, sending tiny plumes of dirt flying into her hair. She pressed her face to the ground, the camera trapped between her body and the dry, brittle grass.
A hand touched her back. She squeaked, then spat out the mouthful of dirt she’d inhaled.
“It’s me,” Logan whispered. “Stay down. He’s running along the ridge.”
She glanced to her right just long enough to see Logan kneeling beside her, a military-looking rifle pressed against his shoulder. Had that been in his pack? Her stomach lurched. He peered through the scope, his face a mask of murderous determination. Her blood ran cold to see this side of him.
Looking past the toe of his boot, movement by the trees captured her attention. She tried to pull her camera up.
“Stay still,” Logan growled.
“On your right,” she snapped back at him.
He turned, and the movement became a blur of a man racing from the trees. More shot hit the ground by her head. Logan fired across the valley. Silence followed the shots. Had he shot the man? She scuttled backwards, protecting her camera against her middle. Raising it, she scanned the far horizon. Nothing. Not even the horses were visible. Her heart thudded and she gulped for air. Thinking that Logan may have shot someone with so little time to think, just turn and fire, chilled her. He might have been protecting her, but to shoot a man? No one deserved to die.
Logan grunted as the man shoved into him with his shoulder.
The man raised his pistol, pointing past Logan. She rolled to the side. Don’t sh
oot me. The pistol fired. Glass shattered, and her camera exploded in her hand.
Erika screamed.
Logan turned, and the man used the distraction to land a solid punch on his jaw. Logan reeled.
Blood dripped from Erika’s hands. Was she shot? No, she realized it was from the pieces of plastic when her camera had been hit. The pieces lay around her, and she quickly scavenged through them to find the SD card and dropped it into her pocket. Whatever happened, she’d have those photos.
From the nearby ridge, more shots were fired.
“Logan. He’s firing at us.” Stupid, she knew, but she couldn’t not warn him. With nothing behind her for cover, she hurried down the hill, hoping to get out of the line of sight. He’d said Domino was at camp. Maybe she could get back to—
Something hit the back of her calf. She stumbled, her legs sweeping out from beneath her, and sending her rolling down the hill. Her head hit the ground hard enough to send flashes of light behind her eyes. All of this over some wild horses…
Dimly she recognized boots flying past and then nothing.
Chapter Five
Erika’s scream cut right through him. He turned to see her sitting on the ground. Blood on her hands, shards of her camera lying on the ground around her. The right-hook landing on his jaw spun him around. Get to safety, he mentally urged, and from the corner of his eye, saw her working her way back down the embankment. That’d have to do, he thought as he focused on the man before him. The one on the ridge was nowhere to be seen; Logan doubted he’d hit him with his shot.
He used the momentum from the punch to spin back around, hitting the man with an uppercut to the jaw. The silver muzzle of a pistol pointed not at him, but down toward the hill where Erika had gone. Not on his watch. He slapped the gun away, hearing it fire into the air, then grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted. The gun fell to the ground. Logan kicked it away.
Buckshot hit the ground near his foot and scattered. He growled, frustrated by the uneven odds. He punched his assailant again, hopefully sending him in the direction of the shots. He needed help. Domino might have heard. He hoped so, because he couldn’t exactly stop the fight to send a text at the moment. A quick flurry of blows had the man doubled over.
“What do you want?” He yelled.
The man looked at Logan and spat blood. “I want her to go away. I want those filthy horses to go away.” He glanced to his left.
Logan followed his gaze and didn’t see Erika. He hoped she’d gotten out of here, ran back to camp and sent Domino. Gull might be there too, and the three of them certainly could take out these guys. Heck, give him enough time and he could do it himself.
“Why? These animals are federally protected. Did you really think you could shoot them?”
The man laughed, an ugly mocking sound. “The federal government doesn’t give a shit about these horses. They steal resources from the ranchers who have built this country. They’re vermin.” He eyed the gun on the ground.
Logan’s stomach twisted. His sister talked about people like this man, those who believed the federal lands were being stolen from them, taken just so local ranchers couldn’t use it. When he’d commented about it, his sister had given him a huge lecture about how horses evolved…He cut off his thoughts by punching the man.
The man stumbled, blood dripping from a cut on the corner of his mouth and dripped into his sparse brown stubble. He went down backwards.
Logan jumped on him, pinning him down and punching him again. Neutralize the threat. He’d done it often enough as a PJ. More buckshot hit the ground around him. He looked up to see the guy who’d been on the other ridge quickly racing towards him. The man on the ATV was older. The ATV stopped and the man jumped off. “Aaron! Son! It’s not worth it.”
“Too late.” Aaron bucked, throwing Logan off.
As soon as Logan hit the ground, he bounced back to his feet. He pulled out his weapon just as Aaron dove for the gun. Aaron came up, pointing it at Logan.
Logan kept his weapon trained on Aaron. “You don’t want to do this. Listen to your father.”
“It’s too late for that.” Aaron stared at Logan, and in his eyes Logan saw fear and determination to see this through—wherever it led. He knew that look, had seen it in the eyes of Libyan rebel fighters who’d ambushed his team. “Your girlfriend’s pictures are hitting the web about now. The whore who wants to protect the mustangs.”
“We’ll deal.”
The older man stepped forward. “Aaron, put your gun down. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. You took this too far.”
“The fucking feds don’t want you to have the land. Say that they didn’t like what my friends and I did a while back. It wasn’t vandalism to cut their fences. It was an act of patriotism!” He raised the gun, his hand shaking.
“Not easy, is it, to face another man down the barrel of the gun. No one wants you to get hurt, Aaron. Listen to your father.” Logan stepped forward. He thought he heard the sound of an ATV. Come on, Domino!
Aaron turned and yelled, the gun discharging as he did so. “Don’t come any closer!” The bullet flew over Logan’s shoulder, too close for comfort.
“I have to,” Logan said, more for the benefit of Aaron’s father, and fired at Aaron’s weapon.
The shock forced Aaron to drop the weapon, and in a split second, Logan rushed forward. He caught the man full in the chest, sending him sprawling backwards. Logan jumped on him. He reached for a knife, the silver glint the only notice Logan had. He grabbed Aaron’s right wrist and pinned it to the ground.
The ATV’s roar filled the air. Logan glanced to see it was Domino, and he turned to Aaron’s father. “Put your weapon down,” he ordered. “My buddy isn’t going to think twice, not when it was your buckshot that almost hit us.”
The older man nodded and gently, one hand in the air, knelt down and put the rifle on the ground. He stepped back, hands in the open. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” His voice wavered.
“You’ll have to tell that to the sheriff.”
Domino stopped the ATV and hopped off. “Everything under control, Mustang?”
“Confirmed.” Logan flipped Aaron over and pulled his hands behind his back. Domino tossed a zip tie onto Aaron’s back, and Logan secured him, not moving from his perch on the man’s back. “Erika okay?”
“A few cuts. An EMT is tending to her. When I heard shots, I called dispatch and told them to send deputies and an ambulance just in case.” He turned to the man. “You’ll have to come with us, too.”
“I know.” His shoulders slumped, a man defeated. “I never wanted this to happen.” He repeated the words and this time his voice caught. “My son thought he was doing what was right.”
Logan doubted Aaron ever thought shooting at mustangs, or people, was right. He kept his thoughts to himself. A moment later an off road vehicle came towards them, emblazoned with sheriff’s markings. Two deputies jumped out of the vehicle and ran toward them.
“Everything under control?”
“Yes, sir,” Logan said. “Just waiting for you to take out the trash.”
Aaron’s father flinched at the words; he couldn’t deny them, not in Logan’s mind anyway. The deputy he’d spoken with in town relieved him of his duty and took Aaron back to the vehicle. The father walked toward them, arms outstretched, wrists together, as if he expected to be cuffed.
“You going to cause any trouble, Mr. Whittaker?” the deputy asked.
“No, sir. I’m sorry for what my son has done.”
“I still have to use these,” he said, sounding genuinely unhappy to have to put handcuffs on the older man. A moment later they walked back to the vehicle. “I’ll expect to see you at the station for a full report,” he said to both of them, and Logan nodded in response.
With the threat neutralized, Logan took off at a run to the ATV. “Tell Hank the photos are in the wild. I have to get back to Erika.”
“Take the ATV. I like to walk.” Domino replied
with only a little smart ass in his tone.
“Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”
“Introduce me to your sister,” he replied.
Logan laughed. “You already know her. Do it yourself.” He fired up the engine and raced back toward the camp. The urgent need to get to Erika thrummed through his veins. The image of her sitting there, blood in her hands with the shattered remains of her camera, filled his mind. It sickened him. She shouldn’t have gotten hurt—not with him there. That she did made him want to kick himself all the way back to camp.
The flash of red and blue lights were visible well before he returned to their camp, though he realized they were headed up the road into town. This time, the tent and gear was intact. He stopped the ATV and raced over to a camp chair where Erika sat, bandages wrapped around her hands. She tried to type on her phone with her unwrapped thumbs.
“You’re okay?” He dropped to his knees before her and cupped her shoulders. “Oh god, you scared me.” Dimly he noticed Gull standing by the road.
“Domino coming?” he asked over his shoulder.
“He volunteered to walk back so I could take the ATV.” Logan turned his attention back to Erika. “Talk to me, baby. You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding anything but fine. “I think so. My camera’s ruined.”
He vowed to by her a new one. “I’m sorry. They have Aaron and his father in custody. I don’t think either one is going anywhere anytime soon.” Time in jail was too good for Aaron, and he still didn’t know what the old man thought he’d accomplish by shooting at them. Either way, both of them were going to face attempted murder, among other charges. He pulled Erika into his arms, folding her against his body. Nothing would harm her ever again. He’d make sure of it. She’d be his permanent assignment.
“Logan,” Erika breathed against his neck. “Don’t leave me.” She pressed her lips to his skin. Heat radiated from the contact, driving straight through his body to tighten his cock.
