“Thank you for noticing, Byron.”
“Win is a good worker, too. She gets all kinds of things done.” Douglas patted Win’s arm, facing the camera crew again.
Angus stood up, crossed to the next set of broccoli plants and got to work again, but his gaze slid to where Douglas still hovered near Win, the picture of a doting boyfriend. He never crossed the line, never touched Win inappropriately or flirted with her in Angus’s presence, but he had a way of angling himself in front of the cameras to suggest that maybe he and Win were together after all.
He caught Leslie watching him watch Win and Douglas.
Damn.
“Maybe robots are the most sustainable of all, though,” she said, striking an exaggerated thinking pose, her finger on her chin, voice rising as she spoke. “Robots don’t eat,” she went on. “They don’t need clothing or houses or cars or anything. They can starve all of us to death, use our rotting bodies for compost, plant trees among our corpses and regenerate the whole damn natural world!”
Everyone else stilled.
“Hell, Leslie, that’s pretty harsh,” Angus said finally.
“You want harsh? I’ll give you harsh,” Leslie told him. “She left you.” She pointed to Win. “Stayed away for months. Hid your baby from you—and that’s the woman you’re going to choose to spend your life with? I’m right here ready to be with you, ready to pledge my life to you, ready to accept second place in your heart—ready to stay with you, because unlike her, I would stay. I would put our relationship first above everything. I’m a keeper, Angus McBride. And you won’t see what’s right under your nose.”
Leslie stormed out, leaving all of them looking after her, including Byron, who for once didn’t follow her.
Thank God for spring, Win thought later that afternoon as she settled on the back porch of the manor. There’d been a long lull between guests, which had the women of Base Camp concerned about the viability of the business but also gave them a break. Everyone else was working on personal projects. Win had toted her handloom up to the big house to find a corner to work in, but the sun had enticed her outside for a minute.
She was surprised no crew members had followed her, but Savannah had been practicing a rather dramatic piece on the grand piano in the front parlor, and Byron was shadowing Leslie, as usual, who was sticking close to Angus down at his tiny house. Angus was working on his kitchen, and a bunch of crew members had stayed to film them. Win would have liked to help, too, but she figured that wouldn’t turn out well at all.
The songbirds were out. Win lolled on the steps, her head resting against the bannister, listening to them, imagining the patterns she could weave in the future. The project she’d picked was a simple table runner, but she kept imagining a set of placemats she could weave in greens and blues—a springtime motif. When voices in the kitchen behind her pierced her thoughts, however, she surged to her feet, looked around for somewhere to hide from the cameras a little longer and dashed to the path that led into the woods.
She knew this was another way to get to Pittance Creek, upstream from the main path that led from the bunkhouse, but she had no intention of going that far into the woods, and she stopped only twenty feet or so from the back lawn, peering back to see if anyone was coming.
“Nice day, huh?”
The breath whooshed out of Win, and she spun to find a young man not far behind her.
“Oh, hey—didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Nick. Came over from the reservation. I know Walker.”
Win stepped back as the youth stepped toward her, heart still beating hard. “You came to see Walker?”
“I hoped he’d be around.” The young man stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Skipped school. Went to town. Could use a ride home.” He grinned at her.
Win remained wary. “How do you know him?”
“Everyone knows everyone on the rez. Walker comes to see his grandma now and then.”
That made sense, but—
Nick jumped forward. “Hey!”
Before Win could move, a black-gloved hand clamped over her mouth. She was roughly pulled back tight against a man’s chest. Another hand extended past her, pointing a shiny black pistol at Nick.
“Make a sound, make a move, and I’ll kill you, then her.”
“Right, man—I’m not moving.” Nick had stopped as quickly as he’d started, his dark eyes wide as he stared back at them.
No, Win thought. Not again. She wasn’t going to be taken again.
Win remembered Mike Pierce’s instructions. As head of her family’s security team, he’d made it his business to teach her how to evade another kidnapping. Win kicked out and thrashed her legs, pulling the stranger off balance. The shot he fired went high.
“Run!” she screamed when the man’s hand slipped down to her chin. “Run, Nick! The bunkhouse!” Most of the men would be concentrated in that area. The manor was closer, but it was full of pregnant women. She kicked and thrashed again, fighting and lashing out for all she was worth, praying that Riley and the others wouldn’t come looking.
Any second she’d be shot, but there was no time to think of that. Win knew one thing—she was never letting herself be hauled away and locked up again.
“Damn it. Stop struggling.”
It dawned on Win as they fought, the man hadn’t shot her yet. In fact, he seemed determined to catch her wrists and control her rather than kill her.
Because he wanted to kidnap her.
Just like last time.
And she was pregnant—
One thought followed another, and Win kept fighting, shielding her belly as best she could. She was determined not to give in.
Nick looked like a kid who could run.
“Stop fighting, bitch!” the man growled as he struggled to capture her arms. Win kept wheeling around. When his hand covered her
