by Amy Sandas
But as Warren put himself between Gabriel and Eve, Gabriel felt a sudden stab of anger toward the man.
He lifted his brow in question, his arms tense across his chest.
“Let her have a moment.”
So, he had noticed Eve’s departure after all.
Though Gabriel could respect the doc’s desire to protect his sister, he had seen the unspoken message Eve had given him. She expected him to follow her.
She needed him.
And he was going to go to her.
“You misunderstand,” he replied.
The other man frowned. “No, Gabe. I believe you misunderstand. I don’t know the details of how she came to be with you, but she is under my protection now, and—”
His words were cut off by a harsh and ragged scream.
Gabriel shoved Warren aside and bolted across the room and out the front door, just in time to see Eve’s unconscious body being tossed into the arms of a man on horseback. The man still on the ground turned and drew his pistol.
A gunshot zoomed past Gabriel’s head, splitting the wood on the house behind him with a loud crack. He dodged to the side and leapt from the porch, but he was too late.
Both men were on their horses and riding away.
“What the hell happened?” Warren shouted as he charged out of the house behind him.
Gabriel’s chest had tightened so violently, his heart no longer seemed to be beating, but his steps never faltered. He swiftly changed direction to run toward the small barn beside the doc’s house.
He needed his horse.
“Gabe! Answer me,” Warren demanded as his steps sounded on the gravel in a running stride.
“He found her.”
Warren caught up to him in the barn. “What are you talking about?” he shouted as he rushed to his own horse. “Who found her?”
Gabriel leapt onto Twig’s bare back. “Her husband,” he grunted as he turned the mustang and urged him into an instant gallop.
The sun was getting low in the sky, and the two horses were nearly out of sight. He had no time to lose.
He had everything to lose.
But while Twig was bred for endurance, high elevations, and rough terrain, the mustang was not exceptionally fast.
Warren caught up with him easily, and they rode together in silence. Eve and her abductors were long out of sight, so Gabriel kept every bit of his focus on following the trail they’d left behind.
The heavy, rapid beat of his mustang’s hooves hitting the ground reverberated through him, taking the place of his heart, which had been torn from his chest the moment Eve had been taken. The place where his heart should be was silent and still. His blood had stopped moving through his veins. Every bit of life inside him had simply ceased and would never start again if he didn’t get Eve back.
She was his heart.
That first day on the trail, when it had been just the two of them, he had vowed to keep her safe.
He had failed.
His fists tightened in Twig’s mane as a rough growl rose through his throat.
The sun was getting lower. Soon, night would come, and with it, only a sliver of moonlight.
Gabriel urged Twig to his limit, forcing the loyal animal to run his fastest. They were heading away from the mountains, so the landscape wasn’t as treacherous as it could have been. But it was still a challenge to keep to Eve’s trail as it wound its way through shallow hills and valleys and forests.
Just as they entered a wide copse of dense forest, two riders suddenly came up, one on each side of them, pressing in until Gabriel and Warren were forced to slow.
Gabriel nearly roared in frustration. Since this was just supposed to be a quick trip into town, he didn’t have the hunting knife he usually tucked in his boot when out on the trail. He suspected the doc was not carrying a weapon at all, but he didn’t bother to look.
It didn’t matter. If these were more men sent by Eve’s husband, he would kill them with his bare hands if he had to.
The two men came around to face them, each with a Colt trained sure and steady on Gabriel and Warren’s chests.
Then one of them spoke in a woman’s voice. “Holy shit! Is that you, Warren?”
The realization that one of them was female was instantly surpassed by the fact that she knew the doc. And that in knowing him, she immediately reholstered her gun. Her partner quickly followed suit.
“Alexandra?” Warren exclaimed. “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?”
The woman, who Gabriel could now see had a long braid of black hair falling down her back, narrowed her gaze. “I received a telegram from Aunt Judith,” she replied, ignoring the question about her masculine attire. “She hadn’t seen Evie in a while and was worried.”
“So you came here?” Warren asked.
“Not right away, but Malcolm is very good at what he does,” she replied with a swift smile directed toward her partner, who had not taken his eyes off Gabriel. “Once we discovered she’d left Boston by choice, I figured there was only one reason she wouldn’t have told anyone her plans—she didn’t want to be found. There was also the fact that her husband seemed to be keeping his mouth shut about the whole thing…” she finished, as though the conclusion was obvious. “Then we found out about the abduction on the train down near Granger and figured it was Evie. But whoever took her knew how to hole up.”
Warren sent a swift glance toward Gabriel, who ignored him. He was impatient with the conversation. Sensing Gabriel’s growing agitation, Twig scuffed a hoof at the ground.
The woman continued. “Turns out, Matthew Preston very quietly left town shortly after Evie. A friend of Malcolm’s tailed him to Courtney’s ranch in Montana, then to our place before he came down here. He left men behind at each location and has had men watching your house for days now.”
Gabriel had had enough talk. “Where is she?”
The woman didn’t answer right away, and the man she’d called Malcolm studied Gabriel with a wolfish gaze. He had an air of danger and violence about him that Gabriel knew better than to underestimate. After a moment, Malcolm gave a short tug on his reins, turning his horse as he replied, “This way.”
Gabriel and Warren followed them to a spot where the trees started to thin. Dismounting, they left all their horses in thicker cover as they crept closer to where they could see a small ranch spread out before them.
The house was a grand two-story building with a wide front porch and shutters that were closed tight. A barn stood some distance apart from the house, but there was no indication of any cattle. Aside from a few chickens scattered about the yard out front, the entire place was still and quiet.
“Matthew moved in here several days ago. Apparently, the accommodations in town weren’t up to his standards,” the woman scoffed.
“How many?” Gabriel asked.
“In addition to the two who just rode in, he’s got two more hired guns on the property,” Malcolm answered. “They’re well armed, but they don’t appear to expect any opposition.”
“Which will give us an advantage,” the woman added before she started describing the various ways they could try to approach the house without being seen.
Gabriel didn’t hear any more details, since he had gotten too far away. On silent feet, he crept through the trees to reposition himself so the sun would be at his back as he made his way in.
They could discuss the ranch’s layout and how best to infiltrate the property if they wanted. He was going to get Eve.
Thirty-Seven
Eve came to full consciousness with a gasp and a moan. At first, the throbbing in her skull was the only thing she could concentrate on. But then her last clear memory returned with the force of a freight train.
The two men had come at her so fast outside Warren’s home.
; She remembered screaming before one of them raised his pistol and brought the butt of it down against her temple. Then everything went dark.
She pushed herself to a seated position, hoping with everything in her that she was at Warren’s house with Gabriel nearby.
But the parlor she was in was unfamiliar.
The man seated across from her, however, was not.
Terror gripped her lungs like a vise. Her limbs went numb, and the pounding in her head grew louder. Her nightmare had reclaimed her.
“So good to see that you’ve decided to join me, darling,” Matthew said smoothly as he tilted his head toward Eve with a smile.
He sat in an armchair, with one leg elegantly crossed over the other and a snifter of brandy warming in his hand. As always, he was dressed impeccably. His smile was warm and charismatic. His blond hair was perfectly combed, and his shoes were polished to a reflective shine. He was flawless. The consummate gentleman.
On the outside, anyway.
Inside lived a monster.
The terror clutching at her tightened.
Her gaze darted about the room, but they were alone.
His soft chuckle brought her attention flying back to his face.
“Do not worry, my sweet and wayward wife. There is no one here. My men have been instructed not to interrupt our little reunion under any circumstances.”
“Where am I?” Eve forced the words through a thick throat.
Matthew gave a graceful wave of his hand. “Just a little property I picked up. It’s rather drab, but it was the best I could do.” His eyes flickered with anger. “Do you see what your selfish little escapade has lowered me to? You will pay dearly for the discomfort I’ve endured as I traveled all over this dusty, primitive wilderness.”
A shiver of pure terror slid down her spine.
“You were not easy to find,” Matthew continued as he swirled his brandy. “I have to say, Evelyn, you have surprised me. Not only your current…wretched appearance”—he paused to slide his gaze over her plain cotton dress and dusty boots before his lips curled in disgust—“but your unexpected resourcefulness are not qualities I would have expected you to display. Once I discovered you’d left Boston on a train heading westward, I figured it was only a matter of time before you popped up at the home of your brother or one of your friends. Lucky for me, you happened to show up at your brother’s. It saves me from having to wait any longer than necessary to see that you are taken back in hand.” He lowered his voice threateningly. “You have caused a significant amount of trouble, my dear wife. I’m afraid your punishment will be quite severe this time.”
Eve sat frozen in place, staring at the man she had married. Every ounce of fear, every moment of uncertainty and self-doubt, all the lies, the pain, the dreadful anxiety—everything he’d ever forced her to feel—crashed through her like a tidal wave. Fierce, breath-stealing, and utterly consuming. And then one word pushed up from her heart. “No.”
Never again would she kneel in silence and stoic pride while she was abused. She had endured enough.
Matthew’s mouth tightened with fury. His skin became flushed, and his hand shook as he set his brandy down on the table beside him. “No? You’d best remember your place, darling.”
“I will not allow you to hurt me again.”
“You have no say in the matter,” he said in a menacing tone that sent chills across her skin. “You are my wife. You belong to me.”
“I belong to me,” Eve replied firmly despite the fear still coursing through her.
Matthew’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing to dangerous slits. Then he smiled. It was a chilling sight. “This is going to be more fun than I thought.”
Eve knew she couldn’t stop him, but she would fight him with every ounce of strength and courage she could gather from the deepest corners of her being.
As Matthew slowly set his glass aside and uncrossed his legs, Eve leapt to her feet.
He ignored her and casually walked over to a lacquered box set beside a crystal decanter of brandy.
Eve sped toward the room’s closed door. Finding it locked, she turned to press her back to the door. Her fear continued to rise, but so did her fury.
“It’s been far too long since you’ve felt the bite of my whip,” Matthew said as he lifted something from the box. A black leather whip uncoiled from his hand to pool in elegant lines at his feet. “Your behavior leads me to believe you’ve missed your punishments. I know I have.”
Eve scanned the room for something she could use to fight him off. The crystal brandy decanter, maybe. If she hit him in the head hard enough with it, she might be able to knock him out. But first, she’d have to get to the decanter, and afterward, she’d have to get past however many men he had outside.
A sudden crash sounded in another part of the house. Its force was strong enough to shake the walls of the parlor.
Gabriel!
She knew it was him by the swift rush of love and hope that swept through her. She should have known he would come for her.
Another crash—this one much closer—involved shattering glass and was swiftly followed by the crack of a gunshot.
Eve stumbled away from the door as the sounds of a struggle came closer. Glancing toward Matthew, she saw that he was following her movements intently with his light-brown gaze. Setting the whip aside, he reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small handgun.
“You are not going to get away from me again,” he said. But before he could raise the gun to point in her direction, the door to the parlor slammed open, the wooden frame splintering as Gabriel forged through.
He was covered in blood. His shirt was soaked in it. His face was splattered. A pistol was clenched tightly in his hand. It was the first time she’d ever seen him with a weapon, and she realized he must have taken it from one of Matthew’s men. His gaze was hard and dead calm as it fell upon Eve’s face.
She took a step toward him, lifting her hand.
“You’re my wife. Mine,” Matthew shouted in blind fury.
Eve’s attention darted back to see him shifting to aim his gun in Gabriel’s direction.
She didn’t think.
Twisting sharply, Eve lunged across the space separating her from Matthew, slamming her body against his. The force of her momentum had him stumbling back with a grunt as she wrapped her hands around his wrist, trying to force the barrel toward the floor. He regained his footing far too easily. He grabbed a fistful of her hair with his free hand, while he jerked the gun sharply upward to try to free it from her grip.
The pain in her scalp brought tears to her eyes, and she felt her hands slipping from around his wrist. She wasn’t strong enough.
He gave another fierce tug of his arm just as her hands lost their grip. His arm jerked back sharply, and the gun slammed against his chest.
A shot rang out. Deafening. Jolting her with the impact.
The harsh, acrid smell of gunpowder filled her nostrils, followed swiftly by the scent of blood.
Matthew exhaled—a ragged, gargling sound.
The gun tumbled from his suddenly slack hand and dropped to the floor. Eve stumbled back.
Matthew’s eyes, wide with shock, found hers as blood started to gush from the gaping wound at the base of his throat. He took a staggering step back, then another, until his back hit the wall. Then his legs just folded up and he slid to the floor, his eyes lifeless and flat.
Oh my God.
“Eve.”
She spun around to see that Gabriel had dropped to his knees. The gun slipped from his hand as he looked at her with a glazed, faraway look in his eyes. Rushing to his side, she realized why there was even more blood soaking his shirt than before.
He’d been shot. The blood was his.
Pain exploded in her chest, seizing her heart in an icy grip.
“Gabriel,” she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him as she pressed her hand against his chest where the blood welled warmly beneath her palm. She forgot about Matthew. Forgot everything except her love for Gabriel. He’d fought to get to her. To save her.
He had saved her. In a thousand ways.
She couldn’t lose him now.
He bowed his head to rest his forehead against hers as his eyes drifted closed.
“Hold on, Gabriel,” she whispered fiercely. “Please.”
“You…are my heart…always,” he whispered before he dropped to the floor beside her.
“No!” Eve pressed both hands to the flow of blood as she leaned over him to whisper in his ear, tears tracking down her cheeks. “No, Gabriel. Stay with me. You are my heart too. My soul. My everything. Please.”
And then suddenly Warren was there beside her. “He’s still breathing,” he said in a calm, confident tone. “Move back, Evelyn. Let me help him.”
Though she hated taking her hand away from his chest, where she could still feel the faint beat of his heart, she backed away. But her eyes stayed fastened on Gabriel’s face. His beautiful, strong, generous, kind, loving face.
Two more people charged into the room. Eve scarcely paid them any attention. For some reason, she felt that as long as she kept her eyes on Gabriel, he couldn’t leave her. She didn’t even glance away when a familiar presence crouched beside her to wrap her in a comforting embrace. But she did take her cousin’s hand in a fierce grip, needing her strength and support in order to keep breathing. Alexandra held her tight and murmured gently, “Warren will save him, Evie.”
He had to.
Eve could not fathom a world without Gabriel in it.
Thirty-Eight
Warren worked a miracle on that parlor floor.
While Eve watched in a helpless state of shock that was anything but numb, her brother removed the bullet that was lodged in Gabriel’s chest with Alexandra’s competent assistance. The bullet hadn’t gone deep, but there was a great deal of blood loss and the wound had to be cauterized.
