Lady’s back, hugging the horse tightly. The horse’s sides were shaking, its body wet with sweat after what must have been a brutal ride.
A ride in the middle of the night?
“M-Mark?”
And he knew that voice. Not screaming now, but soft, almost broken. He wanted to run toward that horse and rider, but he was afraid of spooking Lady, so he approached slowly, carefully. When the horse neighed, he reached out and softly touched Lady’s mane. “It’s okay.” Then he reached up for the rider—Ava.
He could see her now. There was no mistaking Ava McGuire, not with that long, wild tumble of her hair. The moonlight and starlight spilled down onto her face, and the fear there made him lose his breath.
Some of his ranch hands had come into the yard, but they stayed a few feet back. “Get the horse!” Mark ordered as he pulled Ava off Lady.
She was like ice in his hands, and hard, heavy trembles kept raking her delicate frame. Ava had five brothers, all big, hulking military types, and Ava—the baby of the family—she was different. Delicate... Fragile... She was—
Crying. Because he’d just touched her cheeks and he could feel the wetness there. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Sh-shot...”
He could barely make out what she was saying.
“They...they were waiting...in the h-house...”
He caught her arms and eased back so that his gaze could sweep over her. “Ava, did someone hurt you?” Rage pumped through him. Ava was only sixteen. If some jerks had hurt her, he would make them pay.
Her teeth were chattering. “Dead.” She seemed to push out the word. “I’m scared. They’re—dead.”
Mark’s whole body stiffened. “Who, Ava? Who are you talking about?”
She threw her body against his and started sobbing. “M-my parents! I saw them...the men...had guns! I heard the gunshots. I ran.” Her sobs grew even harder. “I left them there...”
He held her as tightly as he could. There had to be a mistake. Her parents—they were fine, weren’t they?
“Please,” Ava begged him. “Help my parents. Help them!”
* * *
BUT THERE WAS nothing he could do. When Mark and his men went to the McGuire ranch, they didn’t see the attackers. They just saw the blood.
Mark and his men made it to the ranch before the cops did. He was the first one in that place—and he would never forget the terrible sight that greeted him.
“Who would do something like this?” Ty Watts, Mark’s ranch foreman, demanded as he stared at the brutal scene. “And why?”
There was no sign of the attackers. They were long gone. Mark stood there, the scent of blood heavy in the air around him, and he knew that he would be the one telling Ava that her parents hadn’t survived.
He would be the one to give her the devastating news.
Mark bent down next to Ava’s father. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
* * *
AVA STAYED AT his ranch for two days. During that time, she barely spoke. Her skin was too pale, her eyes far too wounded. She jumped at the slightest sound and during the night, she woke screaming. Again and again.
Mark didn’t think he’d ever forget the sound of Ava’s screams. He hated her pain and her grief, and he wished that he could do something to comfort her.
“I should have helped them.” Ava’s low voice had his head whipping toward her. They were on his porch, waiting, because Mark had gotten word that Ava’s oldest brother had finally made it back to town. He’d learned of the slaughter at his family’s ranch, and Grant McGuire had rushed home, flying back from some covert mission that had taken him to the other side of the world.
“Ava...” Mark sighed her name, and deliberately keeping his voice gentle, he told her, “The attackers had guns. What could you have done? You went for help!”
She shook her head, sending the dark locks sliding over her shoulder. “I left them to die.”
She was breaking his heart. Ripping it right out with her quiet words.
“If you’d stayed,” Mark forced himself to say, “then you’d be dead, too.”
At first, Ava didn’t speak. She stared down at her hands. Her fingers fisted. “I feel dead.”
He strode toward her to pull her close. When she wouldn’t look at him, he tipped back her chin. “Ava.”
She flinched.
“You aren’t dead.” The thought of her dead—the thought of finding Ava... Ava with her slow smile and her warm green eyes...dead...that notion chilled him. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
He heard the sound of a car approaching. He didn’t let Ava go, but he glanced over his shoulder. Grant McGuire had arrived. He’d come to take Ava away.
I don’t want to let her go.
Because when Ava stayed with him at the ranch, he knew she was safe. He had his men on alert. They were patrolling constantly. But when Ava left...how was he supposed to watch out for her?
A car door slammed. Footsteps approached. But Ava was still staring up at Mark. He found that he couldn’t look away from her.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
So am I. And very little scared him in this world.
“Ava!” That was Grant’s voice. And suddenly Grant was charging up the steps. He pulled Ava into his arms and held her tight.
The guy’s arms seemed to swallow Ava as she stood there, and Mark knew that Grant would be taking her away. The guy had flown halfway across the country in order to come home to Ava.
Grant turned toward him. “Thanks for watching my sister.”
He forced his gaze to meet Grant’s green stare. Green, like Ava’s, but different. Colder. Harder. Fierce.
“I won’t forget what you did.” Grant shook Mark’s hand. Then he looked back at Ava. “It’s time to leave.”
A tear slid down Ava’s cheek, but she didn’t make a sound. Mark’s chest ached. He wanted to reach out to Ava and comfort her.
But Grant was the one to do that. Grant wiped away her tears before he pulled her close once again. “We’re going to find the men who did this,” he promised her. “They won’t ever hurt anyone again.”
And in that moment, Mark made a vow of his own. No one would ever hurt Ava again.
Because her tears tore him
