Their Border Lands Freedom [Men of the Border Lands 12] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Marla Monroe

  “Fuck!” he ground out.

  One more sprint and he’d be close enough that he could keep the shooter busy so that he couldn’t concentrate on the house. He’d work on taking the man out then see about helping Stanton and Lyssa. He prayed they were okay. He didn’t have any alternative right then.

  * * * *

  Lyssa stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure what to do. The men were both outside. Were they okay? Had they been shot? She needed to see about them, but how could she get out there with someone shooting at them? Where was the gunman? How many were there? Normally Arnold had at least three men with him all the time. To come after her, he’d probably bring at least one more. They didn’t stand a chance with five men after them.

  Another shot rang out, still sounding as if it came from the same general area somewhere around the side of the house. If she could manage to sneak up on him, maybe she could disarm him or at the very least, surprise him so that the men could get to him. He’d be under strict orders not to kill her. She could use that to her advantage. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best one she could think of on such short notice.

  She ran for the front door figuring if they were shooting at Wade and Stanton in the back that the front would be safe. Just as she made it to the living room where the front door was located, it burst inward and a man she didn’t know walked into the room. He wasn’t anyone she knew from Barter Town either. Fear oozed into her bloodstream like slow-moving slime. She felt frozen in place. A flash of Arnold’s furious face as he beat at her with his belt for trying to run away flashed into her mind.

  He’s sent those men after me. I’m not going back. I’d rather die than do that.

  Lyssa found some kernel of inner strength at that thought and turned around to sprint for the kitchen. She headed straight for the box the men hadn’t got to before the shooting started. It held the knives she’d packed. If she couldn’t escape them, she would kill herself. There was no way she could endure that again after having tasted freedom once again. Just as she reached the box still sitting on the small kitchen table, the man caught up to her and grabbed her hair wrapping his arm around her waist to drag her back against him.

  She kicked back in an effort to hit his shin or knee if she was lucky. Her foot made contact and the man cursed, crushing her tighter against him making it nearly impossible to draw in a full breath. No doubt that was his plan. If she couldn’t breathe, she wouldn’t be able to fight.

  “Be still, so I don’t have to hurt you. You can’t run away from the man who owns you like that. You belong to him. He has the paperwork to prove it. Now calm down. We’re taking you back. It’s up to you what kind of shape you’re in when we do,” he said even while she continued to struggle.

  “I’m not going back to him. I don’t belong to him! Some men shot my men and stole me from them, selling me to Arnold. I’m not a freaking animal that you can buy and sell. I’m a human being!” she yelled.

  “The paperwork says you belong to him. That’s all that concerns us. Women belong to their men now. That’s how it is. Get used to it. Now are you going to settle down, or do I have to make you?”

  “Fuck you!” She hissed out, renewing her struggle in earnest.

  She threw back her head and managed to catch him off guard, slamming the back of it into somewhere on his face. His howl of pain and reflex action of covering his face where she’d clobbered him gave her the opportunity she needed to wrench from his grasp and dive for the box that held her only source of defense. Where were the guys? Had these men managed to kill them? No. If they had, more men would be in there to help capture her. They were still after Wade and Stanton. She just had to hold this one off long enough for them to reach her.

  As she dug in the box for the knives, her attacker recovered and jerked her hard toward him. Lyssa held on to the box so that as he dragged her backward, the box turned over, dumping everything onto the floor at their feet. She wasn’t able to hold on to one of the knives as it hit the floor. She felt her hope slip away as surely as the knife had. She wasn’t going back. Somehow she would escape or force them to kill her.

  When she dug her nails into the hand and arm wrapped around her waist, he cursed again but this time he didn’t release her. She stomped on his foot and struggled in his arms. Throwing her head back didn’t get results this time. He was prepared and jerked his head away from hers. Lyssa reached back and clawed at anything she could reach and felt her nails dig into something soft that gave beneath her fingers. His yelp turned into a roar. He let go of her to wrap his arms around her flailing arms, allowing her to almost make it free before he jerked her around, hitting her in the face and knocking her hard to the ground. It knocked the breath from her as she struggled to push herself back up. Experience had taught her that being on the ground was the most dangerous place she could be. When she looked up, pride hit her. His cheek was bleeding from where she’d managed to dig her nails into it.

  “You’ll pay for this, bitch.” The man was on her before she managed to climb to her feet, knocking her back to the ground once again with a foot to her back.

  Lyssa strived to push up to get him off of her, but he was much larger than her. She screamed, struggling to free herself, but he was ruthless, grabbing her hair. When he started to flip her over, she finally managed to close her hand over something that felt like the handle of a knife. She wrapped her hand tightly around it and brought it up as the man came down on her. It sliced through his neck and shoulder almost like cutting cheese. He roared and backhanded her even as she pulled it free and shoved it into his chest. The pain in her mouth and face made her lose her focus, and the knife missed his heart, her intended target. Instead, it buried in his upper stomach this time.

  She fought to pull it up, hoping to hit his abdominal aorta or maybe even his lung. He somehow managed a surge of strength and ripped the knife free of himself and her hands to toss it across the room with a roar. His hands came down on her throat, squeezing until she began to see an inky blackness edge over her eyes. Her eyes felt as if they were going to pop out of her head as darkness began to take over so that the ringing in her ears grew louder and louder until it stopped and she felt nothing anymore.

  Chapter Six

  Stanton heard Lyssa’s scream. Coldness washed through his body, sending a surge of anger into his emotions. He ran for the door leading into the kitchen with his body in a crouch to avoid passing in front of the windows so that whoever was in there with Lyssa couldn’t see him. Surprise was all he had on his side. He had no weapon or experience with these types of situations.

  Gunshots echoed from the front of the house, and Stanton prayed that Wade would get rid of the shooter so they could pack up and leave. He didn’t want to even think about anything happening to the other man any more than he wanted to contemplate something happening to Lyssa.

  As he hurried toward the back door another short scream reached him sending his heart into a wild gallop. That hadn’t sounded good at all. He wasn’t sure what he was going to be walking into or how many men were inside with Lyssa. All he knew was that he had to get in there and do the best he could to give her a chance to get away. He wouldn’t allow anyone to take her or imprison her again. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way.

  When he reached the door, Stanton twisted the knob and threw it open all at the same time, hoping to catch them by surprise. He rolled through the doorway, keeping low in case they shot at him without knowing exactly where he was. A sandy-haired man in jeans and a button-down shirt straddled Lyssa’s body. His hands were at her throat and both of them were covered with blood. He saw the knife about four feet from him and three feet from them. Lyssa wasn’t struggling and she didn’t make a sound. Fear slammed into him like a punch in the gut. Stanton dove for the knife just as the stranger realized that he was there and threw himself after it as well.

  Stanton had the advantage of surprising Lyssa’s attacker and reached the knife a split second before the o
ther man could take it. He did manage to close his hand around the blade so when Stanton pulled it free, it sliced into his hand. He jerked it back with a hiss. As if remembering at the last minute that he had a gun with him, the stranger reached behind his back as Stanton threw himself at the man. They hit in midair with Stanton ending up on top, the other man’s hand grasping the wrist he held the knife in. Stanton had hold of the wrist of the man’s arm holding the gun.

  A red hue covered his eyes at the initial sight of Lyssa’s body covered in blood. Fear that she was dead all but strangled him. He growled as he forced the man down to the floor and began banging his gun hand on the floor. With the knife cut on that hand, he wasn’t able to hold on to the knife, but now he had two hands to fight with as he tried to take the knife from Stanton.

  Even though Stanton had several inches on him, the other man was much heavier. It wasn’t long before he realized Lyssa’s attacker was getting the best of him, his arms were burning with the effort to keep the knife away from the other man. In the end, however, the man was able to wrest the weapon from his hold. Now Stanton was on the defensive, struggling to keep the man from sticking him in their struggle.

  As he tired, Stanton realized that unless Wade made it inside, he was going to lose this battle. It had never occurred to him that one of them might not make it to their destination. Now it looked like it would be him. He hoped Lyssa would be okay and make it to freedom. Wade was right, the farther north they could make it, the better chance they had of staying under the radar of these guys. If they’d gone to Wyoming, it would only have been a matter of time before they would have been attacked and had to pick up and move again anyway.

  He was losing the battle to keep the knife away from his body. It was even now only inches from his chest directly over his heart. Stanton’s strength was failing him. His entire body trembled with the effort to keep the knife out of his body.

  Just as he felt his arms giving in, he heard someone coming in the front of the house yelling as he did, and Lyssa’s bloody body entered his field of vision holding the other man’s gun out in front of her with both hands. The sound of the gun going off deafened him even as the man over him flew back, dropping the knife as he did. It hit Stanton’s arm, but without the other man’s strength behind it, the damage was limited to his shirt and a slight sting along his arm.

  “Lyssa!” Wade’s yell had him jerking his eyes to the doorway behind her where to see his friend erupt through it with a look of horror on his face.

  Stanton’s gaze turned to Lyssa, locking with hers. She seemed a little dazed as she lowered the gun, letting it drop to the floor by her side. He winced, knowing it could have discharged when it hit the floor. He rolled over to get to his feet as Wade grabbed her and crushed her in his arms.

  “Oh, God. Where are you hurt, honey? Where is the blood coming from?” he asked.

  “It’s not mine. I’m not bleeding,” she finally said.

  “It’s his?” Stanton asked as he walked over to look her over for himself.

  “I stabbed him when he came after me, but he got the knife away from me. He choked me instead,” she told them.

  Her entire body trembled as she started to crash from the adrenaline overload. Stanton caught her before she collapsed, picking her up, he carried her over to a chair and gently set her on it. What had nearly happened to her, hell even to him was almost more than he could take as well. He held her head to his shoulder as he looked up at Wade over her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked the other man.

  Wade stiffly nodded his head. The man’s worry about Lyssa was easy to read on his face. He knew just how Wade felt. Seeing her not moving or struggling under her attacker with the man’s hands around her throat had done something to him. Rage like nothing he’d felt since finding his wife’s broken body in their home, burned bright in his mind.

  “Let’s get her cleaned up and get out of here before more show up,” Wade finally said. “They were the bounty hunter lawmen I told you about.”

  “The man said that Arnold was looking for me. He has sales papers on me so I belong to him and have to go back. He said that women belonged to men now.” Lyssa’s trembling voice sounded so weak. It squeezed his heart to hear her sound defeated.

  Stanton squeezed her tightly to his body. “No one’s getting you away from us, Lyssa. If you have to belong to anyone, it will be us. We’ll keep you safe.”

  When he looked up again, it was to see Wade rubbing his hands over his face. His friend was worried. That scared him a little. He stood up and drew Lyssa to hers.

  “Come on, darling. You need cleaning up.

  “I’ll find her something to wear.” Wade turned toward the door leading to the hall where the two small bedrooms and one bathroom lay.

  Stanton led Lyssa over to the sink. He let go of her with one hand and opened drawers until he found some dish towels. Then he dipped one into the basin of water they’d drawn up from the old well out back. It was cold, but it would do the trick.

  “Okay, let’s clean you up, Lyss.” He cleaned her face first, wincing when he realized she had a bad bruise on the right side. It ran from the corner of her eye down to her jaw line.

  Several minutes later, Wade returned with some clean clothes. Between the two of them, they managed to help Lyssa undress, clean up and pull on the clothes Wade had found. The jeans legs had to be rolled up and a belt found to keep them up, but the T-shirt wasn’t too terribly big on her. He reasoned that her breasts took up the extra space.

  “Okay, let’s gather up what we need and get out of here.” Wade stuffed a few last minute things into the box and picked it up. “Grab the rifle out of the front room and that gun. We’ll take them with us. The next thing we’re going to do is get you used to a gun so you can carry one as well.”

  Stanton wasn’t going to argue with that. He was anxious for the first time in his life to have a gun. If it meant protecting Lyssa, he’d learn how to use a fucking Uzi. He helped Lyssa outside and down to the carport where he climbed up into the truck after she did. Wade settled the box he carried in the back then eased himself behind the wheel.

  “You can tell me what happened while we drive. I’ll tell you my side. What I don’t understand is how they found us,” Wade said in a harsh voice.

  “I would say that I had some type of tracking device on me except that I haven’t found any places on me that looked like someone had cut me. We left the clothes I came in behind at the house. Maybe there was something in something I was wearing,” she said.

  Well if there was, they will head there and then not have a clue where we’re heading now,” Wade said.

  “Were you ever unconscious for any length of time?” Stanton asked.

  “A few times. Once he knocked me out when he beat me and I woke up the next morning. A few times he drugged me and I don’t know how long I was out then. But he wouldn’t have needed me knocked out if he put a tracker in my clothes,” she reasoned.

  “But he might have injected you with a tracking device and you wouldn’t have noticed it when you woke up. It’s not a cut or anything, just a small bump under the skin,” he told her. “I researched a company that was making the trackers like that. I was going to put it in a prospectus for my clients. They make them so small that they can inject them under the skin and you would never know it if you were unconscious. It was designed to use with children and small animals,” Stanton told her.

  “Do you think I have one? Where would he have gotten hold on one?” Lyssa asked with a look of horror on her face.

  “I don’t know if you do or not, but it wouldn’t be that hard for him to have gotten hold of. They had them in vet offices and pediatrician offices if you know what they look like and how to use them.” He squeezed her hand.

  “When we get ready to stop again, we’ll check all over you to see if we can find it,” Wade said. “If it’s just below the skin, we should be able to feel it, right Stanton?”

  “Yes. It w
ill feel a little like a small BB under the skin. Normally they’re placed at the back of the neck near the scalp or on the back of a hip. If we find one, we can easily make a small incision to get it out,” Stanton explained.

  “We need to check as soon as we stop next time. They’ll be right back after me if I have one of those things in me. How are they able to track it? I mean who has technology anymore?” she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

  Wade answered this time. “Actually, a lot of people who were prepared for possible government takeover have the technology. We called them preppers. They have solar electricity that runs all sorts of things. It’s possible that Arnold was one of those or found it in someone’s home that didn’t make it through the disasters and diseases.”

  “So what do we do if I have one and we take it out?” Lyssa asked.

  Stanton could tell she didn’t feel safe anymore. He felt like a failure because he hadn’t been able to keep her safe. He didn’t like to see her so scared and worried. He and Wade should be able to calm her fears and give her the feeling of safety.

  “We destroy it and change our direction,” Wade said. “Stanton?”

  “We go to Montana,” he said.

  * * * *

  Nearly three hours later, Wade pulled through a small community he hoped would offer somewhere they could stop, eat and check Lyssa for that damn tracking device. He noticed an old gravel road heading up a hill when he reached the outskirts of the tiny town. On impulse he took the road and they bumped along the rutted road until it climbed the hill and slowly wound its way into a dirt road.

  “Where are we going?” Stanton finally asked. “It looks like we’re heading to a dead end, Wade.”

  “I think this will end up at an old house. Most older folks in these small communities didn’t keep up their roads and drives in hopes people they didn’t know wouldn’t drive down them just for the hell of it,” he explained.