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Cameron returned to her home in a fog. Ian was gone. Despite the futility of such a wish, she’d still let herself hope he might change his mind. Of course, even if he did, she’d end up leaving him again to protect Arabella. Saying goodbye once was enough for her.
A shot rang out, piercing the serenity of the forest around her.
Ara.
Adrenaline exploded in her veins, causing her knees and hands to shake. She’d left the girl at home with Keso when she’d gone to the clinic to tell Ian goodbye. Pushing herself into action, she ran down the path toward her home. When her sandals began to slip, she kicked them off and continued barefoot. She smelled the smoke before she reached the clearing in the forest and found her cottage engulfed in flames.
No. Ara. Keso.
Fear threatened to consume her, but she refused to succumb. Fire and gunshots had robbed her of one daughter, she’d be damned if she’d let them take another one. Searching the area around the house for any sign of her family, her gaze landed on two men barely visible on the other side of the house. They appeared to be wrestling as they rolled on the ground.
Victor Roberts.Of course, the man on top, a gun held in his hand, was the bastard who wanted her daughter. But who - her heart slammed against her ribcage.
Ian.
Ian lay underneath Roberts, fighting and bleeding.
No. Ian was on the boat. She’d told him goodbye and sent him home. To safety.
Time was running out. Roberts wouldn’t toy with Ian forever and Cameron’s house was burning—possibly with her daughter inside. Creeping to the small shed, Cameron grabbed the shovel she used when helping with the garden. Quickly, she scurried across the lawn, careful to keep out of sight from Roberts. Sneaking up behind him, she raised the shovel and brought it down, aiming for his head. At the last moment, he rocked sideways. The blow struck his shoulder instead. The gun flew from his hand, and he fell off Ian.
Her lover stared up at her. Shock and relief filled his brown eyes. Blood coverd his shirt, spreading from a hole just below his left collarbone.
“You bitch,” Roberts growled, scrambling to his feet. “I should’ve come for you myself and ended you for good.”
Her gaze flickered to the gun lying on the ground. She’d have to pass him to get it. Slowly, Roberts clambered to his feet. Widening her stance, she tightened her grip on the shovel and lifted the tool like a baseball bat.
“I will kill you,” he threatened. “Just like I killed that motherfucker who you helped steal what belongs to me.”
Keso. So he was dead? Or had Victor Roberts miscalculated like his crony?
“She’s a girl, not a possession. And she was never yours.” Cameron had always known Ara belonged with her and Keso, not Roberts. Now she was more convinced than ever.
“She’s mine,” he roared. The cool composure he’d shown at the clinic shattered. “That whore and her baby belonged to me.” He slammed a fist against his chest. “I owned them, and I’ll do what I want with them.” In his rage, he stalked toward her.
Cameron stood her ground. “You killed her. You didn’t want her or her baby, so you let your men torture and rape her until her body gave out.”
“And she should’ve died before she gave birth. My men assured me she had. I believed them. Until I saw the girl and those fucking eyes. I thought she was yours, so I checked. There’s no record anywhere of you having a daughter.” A slow, small smile crept over his face. “Not a living one anyway.”
Rage, fueled by pain, consumed her. With all her strength, she swung the shovel. Roberts lunged forward. The shovel hit him on the arm. As he continued to advance, she pulled back and swung again. This time, the shovel broke across his chest. He slammed into her, and they hit the ground. The sickening sound of her cracked ribs snapping almost made her vomit. Pain stole her breath as black crept into her vision.
Above her, Roberts loomed, a sneer on his deceptively handsome face. His dimple caved. The dimple that looked so sweet and innocent on the girl she called daughter.
“You’re going to die,” he vowed, wrapping his hands around her neck.
She already struggled to breathe as her ribs and the weight of her attacker kept her lungs from fully expanding. “Fuck you,” she whispered.
“I thought about it. Maybe we should’ve tried that first.”
Bang.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Cameron waited for the pain to come. Nothing. A weight slumped on top of her. But no more pain. No fiery burn like when she’d been shot in Africa.
“Cam. Oh my God, Cam.”
Ian.
He was alive. Struggling, she opened her eyes. Ian’s face swam above her as he struggled to shift something off her. Victor Roberts. Cameron turned her head and stared into the lifeless eyes of the man who’d tried to take her life.
“You… You shot him?”
Ian shoved the man to the ground and began looking her over. “Your ribs? Are they broken?”
Trying to pull in a breath, she choked on the smoke surrounding them. “Ara? Keso?” She struggled to sit up.
Ian eased her back down. “Ara’s safe. I sent her away.”
“Keso was with her. I left them to see you.”
He turned back to the house. “Ara said he’s inside.”
Pushing against the sandy earth, she tried to rise. “I have to get him. He can’t die in there. I have to—”
Ian gripped her shoulders to hold her steady. “You can’t move. If your lungs haven’t already been punctured—”
“I don’t care.” She slapped his hands away. “Keso cannot die. He can’t. I owe him. He can’t—” A desperate sob stole her words. “Ian, please help me.”
“If you go in, you’ll die.”
“I’d already be dead without him.”
Tears filled his eyes. He misunderstood. In his eyes, Keso was competition. The other man.
“He gave me Ara. He gave me a purpose. A reason to live. Ian, I can’t let him die.”
Heaving a sigh, Ian shoved a hand through his disheveled hair and turned to the house.
As what he meant to do settled in, she protested. “You can’t go in there. You’re hurt you…” She couldn’t lose him. Not to death. Not permanently. What would a world without Ian even be like? She never wanted to know. “Ian please.” Clutching his arm, she pulled him closer. “Don’t. I’ll go. I can’t lose you.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “And I can’t lose you. If he’s the reason you’re still here, then I owe him too.” Prying her fingers from his arm, he planted a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t move.”
He ran toward the fire.
“Ian,” she screamed. “Ian no.”
Fueled by desperation, she rolled to her knees, then tried to crawl toward the fire. The pain stole her strength and her breath. “Ian.” Her voice barely reached her own ears. And then everything went black.
* * *
Heat slammed into Ian, forcing him back a step. Fire hadn’t consumed the house yet, but with the way the flames ate their way up the walls and across the floor, eventually it would destroy the cottage. Remembering the boots he’d seen earlier, he headed toward the hall. The man lay face down. Blood pooled beneath the body. Not Keso. This man was large, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. One of Roberts’s thugs.
Where the fuck was Keso? Sinking low, Ian duck walked down the hall. No sign of anyone in the kitchen or bathroom. Inside Ara’s room, he found her father. The man lay on his stomach, slumped beneath her window. Blood oozed from a hole in his back. A small table lay splintered beneath him. Had he been trying to climb out? Or push his daughter to safety?
Ian couldn’t leave him. Even if he was dead, he deserved to be laid to rest by the family who loved him. Ignoring his own gunshot wound and the smoke making his eyes water, Ian rushed into the room and latched onto Keso’s shirt. In his condition, dragging Keso out was the best Ian could do.
“No,” Keso mumbled.
Ian froze. Keso still lay face down.
“Keso.”
“Can’t have her.” Keso’s arm twitched as if trying to fend someone off.
Ian dropped to his knees beside the other man. “Keso? Are you awake? Can you—”
“Doctor,” Keso whispered when his dull eyes landed on Ian.
Holy fuck.
“Come on.” He tried to lift the other man, but with one arm, he couldn’t get him off the ground. “Keso, you got to—”
“Ara. He got Ara. You have to get her. Roberts. He took—”
“She’s safe. I swear. Roberts is gone. I… I shot him.” He could still feel the weight of the gun in his hand, the kick as he’d fired into the man’s skull. Roberts would’ve killed Cameron. No way could Ian have allowed the bastard to take her from him.
“Come on. Help me.”
“Doc. Ara.” A man’s shouts came from the front of the cottage. Thank God some help.
“In here,” Ian called.
Seconds later, Edmund appeared in the doorway. His normally soft eyes turned hard. “What the hell happened?”
“Victor Roberts,” Ian mumbled. “Help me get Keso. He’s alive but barely conscious.”
Edmund hurried forward. “I have him. Where’s Doc and Ara?” The other man pulled Keso up, then scooped him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Cameron’s outside. I sent Ara away.” Ian led the way down the hall. He didn’t check to see if Roberts’s man was alive. He had no interest in saving him. When Ian got outside, Luci and Aimee knelt over Cameron, who lie unconscious between them. A man rushed forward to help Edmund with Keso. They moved him to the edge of the property and lay him on the ground. The two men spoke briefly, their words occasionally reaching Ian where he slowly made his way to Cameron. Now that Keso was out and the women were seeing to Cameron, his own strength faltered.
The men went to Victor Roberts. Edmund scooped up the dead man’s shoulders while his friend grabbed his feet. They lifted him, then began walking toward the house.
“Wh… What are you doing?” Ian blinked away the darkness clouding his vision.
Edmund motioned for the other man to stop. “We can’t save the house. And we can’t assure no one will come looking for this man. Best to make sure there’s no trace of him.”
Ian nodded, and the two men continued carrying Victor Roberts straight into a hell of his own making.
