Chapter 48

Quick as lightning, Nate strode forward, shoved his revolver in his waistband, and planted Chris face-first in the dirt. With a knee between his shoulders and a firm hand on the back of his neck, Nate toed the gun farther from them.

He whipped his attention to Olivia. "Did he hurt you?" He scanned her for wounds as if he might expire on the spot if she had any.

She shook her head repeatedly, tears leaving tracks on her cheeks. Her gaze dropped to Amy. "She's pretty bad, though."

Amy opened her mouth to reassure her friend, but Nakos set his rifle behind him and squatted next to her. Familiar midnight eyes traced her face with frenetic concern in their depths. The dark skin of his Native American heritage grew ashen the longer he stared. Eyebrows wrenched in a frown and jaw tight, he reached for her with a shaking hand, but swiftly drew back.

"You've looked better, Ames." The tension cracking his voice nearly felled her.

She tried to smile, but it reopened her lip and sent blood trickling down her chin.

Panic and horror shoved the worry in his expression aside. He glanced over his shoulder. "Mae!" Nakos ran his hands down Amy's arms, her legs. "Do you think anything's broken?"

She did her best not to wince, shook her head, and closed her eyes. Every inhale was like a sharp poker to her lungs and the side of her face throbbed. With her adrenaline crashing now that she was safe, that her friends were okay, tears welled and her body trembled. Bone-jarring convulsions wracked her limbs.

"Doc Hank's here." Aunt Mae ran into the barn, quickly eyed her surroundings, and knelt beside Nakos. "Rip is just pulling in, too. We'll get you all fixed up, sweetheart."

Amy doubted it. Her life had been on a shit spiral long before today. There was no fixing the damage. She appreciated the warm sentiment in the elder woman's blue eyes, though. She'd always been so nice to Amy.

"Let me up!" Chris squirmed, but got nowhere for the effort.

Nate dug his knee deeper into his spine. "You ever want use of your legs again, you'll shut up and stay still."

Hank walked in carrying a doctor's bag circa the 1900s, one hand on her hip. She was a two-hundred pound, fifty-year-old woman with black hair down to her rearend. "Well, give the girl some room." She set the bag down, opened it, and settled on Amy's other side, shining a penlight in her eyes. "I'm guessing your sad sack of a husband did this to you? Where'd he hit you and with what?"

"His fists." Amy struggled to draw a breath and hissed at the needling lick of pain. "Kicked...my side. Punched my face."

Beside her, Nakos growled low in his throat and went rigid.

"Nothing on the spine or neck? Did you fall at any time?"

"No." Amy closed her eyes, too tired to keep them open. Dizziness threatened to swallow her whole, her stomach somersaulting.

"She needs an ambulance." Nate's voice lacked the emotion of Nakos's, but the sharp order relayed his concern. Poor guy didn't know the isolation of these parts. One only went to the ER if a limb had been severed or there was no pulse.

"Closest hospital is in Casper. We've got it handled." Hank sighed. "Olivia, you got a room for her at the main house? I need to better examine her."

"Yes. We can put her in the extra guestroom."

"All right." Hank's feet shuffled as if she'd stood. "Nakos?"

Amy reopened her eyes, their voices no longer a faraway lull.

"Yeah. I've got her." Nakos offered a ghosted smile as if she were the one needing reassurance. With a tentative arm under her knees and behind her back, he gently lifted her and cradled her to his chest like she was made of glass.

Despite the caution, agony clawed at her from every angle and she yelped. Whimpered.

He froze, his eyes desperate and beseeching. "I'm sorry. I'll go slow."

God, he was such a good guy. Emotion clogged her airway, and she rested her head on his hard pec. His flannel was warm and smelled like him, earthy and sun-kissed.

Rip waddled into the barn, favoring the leg he'd injured in Desert Storm. His FuManchu and brown officer's uniform were out of place together, and he ran a hand over his thinning brown hair. "I apologize for the delay. The Hendersons decided it was a good idea to plow their minivan into the Garrison's ditch and take out a mailbox in the process." He glanced from Nate to Chris to Amy in Nakos's arms, then finally, Olivia. "Looks like you got it covered."

"I'm taking Ames up to the house." Nakos strode out, her limp in his arms, Aunt Mae and Hank on his heels.

She had a vague conception of floating through the yard, the house, and him climbing stairs before soft blankets cushioned her back and the safe, drifting sensation eased. The solid, warm, comforting arms that had been holding her slid away from her in retreat.

All of a sudden, and without any control of her own, the day's events slammed into her head and coagulated in her belly. A fist to her cheek and the popping which followed. Another to her mouth and the copper taste of blood coating her tongue. A boot to the ribs, stealing the wind from her lungs. The yelling. The stench of yeasty, sour alcohol.

Anxiety and dread shredded a path up her windpipe, seized her breath. Trembling, she threw her eyes open and latched onto Nakos's sleeve. "Don't let go... Please, Nakos. Just don't let go."

"Hey, it's all right." He eased a hip down to sit next to her on the bed.

A sob tore from her chest, and she would've hated herself for it if she were in her right mind. She just...needed him. For whatever reason, she needed only him. The stoic, sometimes brooding guy who would step in front of a moving train if it meant keeping Olivia and her safe. The shy boy who'd grown into a man and who was familiar to her as air.

He jerked a chin over his shoulder. "Give us a moment alone." When the door closed behind Aunt Mae and Doc Hank, he reset his focus on Amy. "Shh. I've got you. You're safe." He leaned over her, no part of him touching her but the warm press of his lips to her forehead. "Shh," he cooed again over her skin.

She sobbed harder, her ribs really angry now and tears burning the cuts on her face.

He threaded his shaking hands through the hair at her temples. "Let it out. Go ahead, we're alone. Let it out."

And that was enough to settle the terror. His soothing voice, his tender touch, the scent of him filling her nose and surrounding her.

Blowing out a careful breath, she got a grip. "I'm sorry."

"Hihcebe, Ames. Don't apologize." He lifted his head and, though dry, his eyes were red-rimmed as if he'd been battling emotion himself. He took off his customary black Stetson, revealing shoulder-length raven strands tied back in a low ponytail. Setting the hat aside, he dug his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. "Scared ten years off my life."

"I'm okay," she whispered, trying to reassure him as guilt morphed to consuming levels.

He shook his head like he didn't believe her and drilled her with a look of carnal fear bordering on desperation. "Did he..." He barked a sound of distress and clutched his stomach. "Did he do...anything else to you? Hurt you...in other ways?"

Oh God. "No. He just used his fists." As if that were okay. But she wanted to erase the image of possible sexual assault from Nakos's head right now. "Honest. Nothing else."

He nodded so adamantly she thought his noggin might roll off his shoulders. Then, he gingerly dropped his forehead to hers and slammed his eyes shut. "What happened? Please, tell me."

Knowing him, the only way to wind down was to have the details so his mind wouldn't fill in the blanks. That, at least, she could give him. "We argued over finances. He wanted to sell my camera equipment to pay off bills, but I said no. He...went ballistic. I walked here and I'm good now. All is well."

Lord, what a convincing liar she turned out to be.

He straightened and ran his slightly calmer gaze over her body. He ducked a glance behind him and returned it to her. "Is that the truth?"

"Yes." All but the being okay part.

"How long's he been doing this to you?" His wide, strong jaw ticked. "I don't recall seeing any bruises before today."

"First time." She may be a has-been with a future so dull it was black and white, but she wouldn't tolerate abuse. "Honest. First time."

Another nod, and he looked at the door again.

And it hit her. Painfully. He'd been in love with Olivia since they were teenagers. Amy wasn't the only one who'd had a gun aimed at her. Nakos must be going out of his mind with concern for Olivia, every instinct yelling for him to get back to her.

Though her shoulders sank and an all too familiar hollowness filled her chest cavity, Amy did what she always hadshe accepted reality and ignored the loneliness. "Go ahead. I'm okay. Thank you for helping."

She would not cry again. She absolutely would not.

"You sure?" He studied her a moment. "Doc really should get a look at you."

"I'm positive. Go."

Of course, without further argument, he did.