T.D. wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t the kind of man she wanted in her life. Not now. Not ever.
He stared at her in the growing light. Was he having second thoughts about this? Was he wishing like she was that none of this had ever happened?
Slowly, he leaned down to kiss her, but she moved her head from side to side each time he tried and attempted to buck him off. But he was too strong for her. She wouldn’t submit to him. She couldn’t.
Swearing, he said, “Fine. We don’t have much time so let’s get right to it.” He unzipped her coat and then grabbed her Western shirt and unsnapped it in one quick, hard jerk. “I’ll just take what’s mine. You want it rough? Well, too bad, because that’s the way you’re getting it.”
She’d told herself that she would kill him if he ever touched her again. He’d bound her wrists behind her with duct tape and had her lying partially on her side. She felt a little give in the duct tape. He’d been in a hurry and he hadn’t done a good job.
As he leaned over her, grabbing her chin to hold her head still while he kissed her hard, she moved her hands down her side and pulled her legs up until she could reach her boot with the knife in it.
Drawing the knife from the sheath, she clutched it tightly in her fist. She knew she could do little damage with the knife the way she was bound. But right now just getting him off her would be a start. Leaning back, she got the blade between her wrists and felt it cut through most of the tape. Just a little more.
T.D. took her movements as her getting into what was happening. He deepened the kiss as he groped her through her bra. The tape gave. Her wrists free, she swung the knife.
He must have sensed that her hands were free because he moved just enough that the blade cut into his side—rather than his back. He let out a howl of pain, grabbing her wrist with such force that she dropped the blade before she could stab him again. Still on top of her, T.D. snatched up the knife, his blood staining it.
Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned over her, flashing the blade in her face. She closed her eyes as he wiped the blood off on her cheek. “You stupid bitch,” he breathed, sounding as if in pain. She knew it was only a flesh wound. She had succeeded in only making him angrier with her.
But she opened her eyes, defiantly glaring at him. If he didn’t know before, he did now. She would rather die than let him do this to her.
Holding her wrists down above her head with one hand, he laid the cold knife blade against the bare skin of her chest for a moment, before he cut her bra open. She felt the cold night air on her exposed breasts and heard his chuckle when he saw her puckered nipples.
It’s the cold, you idiot, she wanted to say, even more contempt in her gaze.
He recognized it because he growled, “I could cut your throat just as easily.”
Please do, she thought.
“Maybe I will cut you, once I’m through with you,” he said, so close that she wanted to gag on the alcohol fumes. He pocketed the knife and rolled her over, duct-taping her wrists again, this time more roughly.
Flopping her back over, he held her down with his body as he stared at her for a long moment. She felt a chill because the look was clear. This was goodbye. He would never let her leave this mountain alive.
She heard him unzip his jeans before he began fumbling to get hers undone, shifting to one side as he did. Jinx brought her knee up hard and fast and caught him in the groin. As he let out a howl and leaned to one side, she bucked him the rest of the way off and rolled to the side to scramble to her feet.
He reached for her, grabbing a handful of blue jean fabric and dragging her back. She kicked at him, but he pulled himself to his feet and slapped her so hard she tasted blood.
His voice was hoarse with fury and pain as he locked one arm around her throat again, pulled his pistol and held it to her head. “You’re a dead woman.”
WYATT TRIED TO hold the rifle steady. His finger brushed over the trigger. All he had to do was pull it. Pull it and Jinx would be history. Patty would be grateful.
At the thought of her, his finger hovered on the trigger. If only he could quit shaking—and get his crosshairs on Jinx. Since the moment T.D. had grabbed Jinx, he hadn’t had a clear shot.
Just when he had the crosshairs on her, they both moved. He swore. He could feel himself sweating profusely under his coat even though the early morning was freezing cold. The sky around him was lightening. He had a clear view of the two and wasn’t sure how much longer he would.
He hadn’t heard any of the others for some time now. Not since the sound of that gunshot had broken the silence. Earlier T.D. had spelled out the plan to them. Even as he was talking, Wyatt knew he was lying. T.D. wanted them to quietly sneak up on the herd before they started shooting and hollering and scattering them.
But just before they left camp, T.D. pulled him aside to tell him that he had a different plan for him. “I’m going to sneak into the camp from the
