This was her one chance. She raked her hand on the ground and threw dust and pebbles into his face followed bya kick at his torso with all her strength. Scampering away, she got to her feet and started to run. Big arms wrapped around her, yanking her back, and that’s when she felt the press of hot steel in her side.
“Bitch, I’m not letting you get away.”
Then something rammed into them, plunging them to the ground. Owen grunted, his arms loosened, and she rolled away and flipped to her feet.
“Run, Hannah,” Ben shouted weakly.
He had his hand clamped around Owen’s wrist, the hand that still held the gun. Blood bloomed on Ben’s shirt as they struggled.
She had to do something.
Running to the horses, she heard another shot. She whipped around. Her eyes flew to the two men on the ground. Had Ben shot Owen?Please, Ben. You have to be okay.
Owen groaned, pulling himself to his feet, but Ben stayed down.
“No,” she whispered.
Move—she needed to move.
Swinging onto Flame, she turned the horse around and dug her heels into her sides. Flame took off—headed straight for Owen, as if she knew what needed to be done. He was weaving in place, squinting through the blood pouring down his face as they thundered toward him.
He lifted the gun right as Flame hit him, and his body went flying. She heard it thud to the ground.
I hit him.She stared at his still form. Was he dead? She had no idea. She only knew she needed to make sure he wasn’t a threat.
Get the gun, Hannah.
“Right.” Swinging down, she spied where he’d dropped the gun and threw it as far as she could into the woods. Running over to Ben, she knelt beside him.
There was so much blood.And now his thigh too.
Ripping open his shirt, she cried out when she saw the torn flesh and gaping wound on his left pectoral, four inches from the heart. She didn’t have anything to rip his jeans with to see that wound, but she knew it was serious from the way the blood pulsed.
“Ben! Listen to me.” She touched his face, scanning his color, listening to his thready breathing. “I’m going for help. I’ll be right back.”
Her phone was in her saddlebags, but then she remembered he kept his clipped to his belt. Was it still there? She felt around his waist. Her hand touched warm plastic.Yes.
She hit the screen and realized she didn’t have the code.
“Dammit!” Running to her saddlebags, she found her phone and called the one person she needed to reach them the fastest.
“Please pick up, Daddy,” she cried, running back to Ben.
“Hannah? Why are you calling me during office hours? You know?—”
“Daddy, Owen shot Ben. Twice. It’s bad. I’m at the tree house. Please come. Call Will and get people up here. I knocked Owen out with Flame, but I don’t know his injuries.”
“Hang on, honey. Keep pressure on the wounds. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He clicked off, and she put the phone back. “Pressure on the wounds. I can do that.”
When she reached Ben, all she could see was blood soaking his clothes. He was bleeding so much.
“Hannah!”
She turned at the shout and jumped up when she saw Hudson staggering toward her, his face bruised and cut and bleeding profusely. “Hudson?—”
“That bastard and his two friends jumped me.” He limped toward her, holding his ribs. “I got two before I was knocked out.”
