Page 85 of In Honor’s Defense

“There’s a guard by the front window,” Jonah reported, his tone cool and matter-of-fact as he braced on his elbows to peer through the field glasses. “Dark hair, tanned skin, bushy mustache. Matches the description of the rustler who attacked Preach.”

“Any sign of Damaris?” Please let her be alive.

“I don’t have a clear line of sight. I caught some movement in the background, but nothing to distinguish man from woman.” Jonah passed the glasses back to the captain.

Matt met Luke’s gaze. “She’s in there, Preach. There’d be no reason for him to stand guard, otherwise.”

Luke nodded, but his heart pounded painfully in his chest, desperate to find evidence to support the captain’s conclusion. Desperate to see Damaris with his own eyes. To hold her. Protect her. Shield her from the cruelty of wicked men.

A rustling to the rear made Luke reach for his holster, but Wallace’s quiet whistle stilled his hand.

As one, Luke, Matt, and Jonah belly-crawled backward until they were away from the crest of the small rise. Staying crouched close to the ground, they made their way to a pair of live oaks where Wallace waited.

“No exit from the rear of the cabin. There’s one small window, but it’s boarded up.”

“Could Preach fit through if we unboarded it?” Matt asked.

Wallace shook his head, and Luke bit back a growl of frustration.

“I gotta get in there, Cap. They’ve got the covered position. And Damaris. As soon as we make our presence known, she’s as good as dead.”

A thoughtful look wrinkled Matt’s face. “We need a surprise attack. Get you inside before anyone fires a shot.”

“How?”

A feral light gleamed in the captain’s eyes. “I have a plan.”

“No more stalling, Miss Baxter.” Ronald Mullins picked up his fancy fountain pen and thrust it toward her like a dagger. “Time to sign.”

Damaris set the papers down in front of her but made no move to collect the pen. Lord, make me bold. Her time was up, and she knew it. But she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“This document indicates that I am selling the land to Harbinger for one dollar. Surely you don’t expect me to agree to such terms.” She pushed the paper back toward the lawyer with shaking hands. “Amend the deal to include a fair selling price.”

Before she could blink, Ronald Mullins grasped her wrist and forced the pen between her fingers.

“Sign it,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Now!”

She lurched to her feet, tipping her chair over as the instinct to flee took control of her body. But his grip was too strong. He yanked her forward and sprawled her upper body across the table. Then he lowered his face next to hers.

“I’ve taken great pains not to hurt you up to this point, Miss Baxter. But my patience is at an end. Sign now, and I’ll ensure my associate kills you quickly and painlessly. Otherwise he’ll torture you until you become compliant. You’re going to die either way, but how much you suffer is up to you.” Apparently, he’d decided his fiction regarding letting her go no longer had merit.

He grabbed her plaited coronet and yanked her backward. Hair tore from her scalp, and Damaris cried out. Mullins righted her chair and shoved her into it.

“Sign the paper.” The words growled in his throat.

“No!”

He released her hair and slapped her hard across the face. Her head spun sideways. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Sign it!”

“No,” she whimpered.

Heaven help her. She wasn’t brave. Or strong. Or heroic. One slap and she was falling apart.

“Colburn,” Mullins snapped. “Get over here.”

“About time.” The man with the cold eyes stepped away from the window and strolled toward the table, unsheathing his knife as he came. “For a minute there, I thought you was gonna steal my fun.”