to give him time to get in position.
The second man shot the leader an accusing glare. “You said ten grand was it.”
“Too bad,” Laurel said, a pronounced drawl creeping into her voice. “I’m sure you could get more. Maybe you ought to call this boss of yours and demand a better deal.”
“And maybe you oughta shut up,” the first man said as he cut a hard look at his partner. “She’s playing you.”
Mace angled closer to the leader.
“But fifty grand...” A whine crept into the second man’s voice. “Homer, that’s a sight of money.”
“What’d I tell you about using names? Now shut your trap and let’s get on with it. We ain’t getting nothin’ if we don’t deliver the woman.”
Mace watched as the first man shifted his grip on the shotgun once more. He was getting ready to make his move. Mace telegraphed his intention to Laurel with a small nod. Not by so much as a flicker of her eyes did she indicate that she was following his progress as he closed the distance between himself and the man.
“Now!” he shouted.
Laurel and Mace had top-notch training on their side, while their opponents were sloppy and undisciplined but brought over 450 pounds of animal fat and pure mean to the fight.
Mace set his sights on the man he’d pegged as the leader and kicked the shotgun from his grip. It was now hand-to-hand. Mace had excelled at hand-to-hand in close-quarters combat training, but his opponent was no slouch and had Mace beat in the weight department.
“You think you’re gonna take me down?” the man taunted, all the while keeping his head out of reach of Mace’s fists. Could he have a glass jaw? The man had a tell. Before he advanced, he wet his lips. It was a small gesture, but it was there.
Mace saw his opening and made his move, neatly evading a blow to the kidneys. He used his opponent’s tell to his advantage, waiting for it, then moving in with a swift uppercut to the man’s jaw.
His guess was verified when his opponent’s eyes went glassy, his mouth slack. Mace followed up with a blow under the nose, causing the man to drop to his knees.
His opponent wasn’t finished, though. He got to his feet, muttered something under his breath, and advanced on Mace with unmistakable intent in his eyes. Mace aimed a short-armed punch to the goon’s face.
Striking the idiot in the face felt good, especially after he’d suggested that Mace abandon Laurel. He spared a glance in her direction and saw Sammy anxiously waiting for the command to attack. The command didn’t come. She flashed Mace an I’ve-got-this look and fought with the ferocity and skill he’d expect of an Army Ranger.
His man got to his feet once more, swiped blood from his mouth and sent Mace a look promising retribution. He grabbed hold of Mace’s arm and did his best to yank it out of the socket.
Mace wanted to give Laurel a thumbs-up, but he was too busy taking down the thug who was fixated on tearing him apart limb by limb.
“Nobody bests me and lives to tell about it. Not that we were gonna let you live in the first place.”
“Enough.” Growing tired of the man’s taunts, Mace did a roundhouse kick, aiming for his ample gut. When he went down, Mace knelt by him, saying, “Stay down, why don’t you, and save yourself some pain.”
The man spat at him. Mace grabbed a pair of flexi-cuffs from his back pocket and shackled the man’s hands.
He turned to see Laurel still grappling with her opponent.
“Homer always thought he was so smart. But look who’s still standing. I’ll take you back in pieces if I have to,” he said to Laurel, “but you’ll be alive. You’ll be real alive.”
Mace started to step in, but Laurel stopped him with a feral grin. “He’s mine.”
He saw that her man had tossed aside the shotgun and pulled a knife, clearly not wanting to kill Laurel, just subdue her. They squared off from each other.
Mace hadn’t pegged her as someone to back down from a fight. He was right.
* * *
The gleam of metal flashed menacingly through the air, but Laurel didn’t retreat. Instead, she moved like a blur of motion, stepping into the sweep of the knife’s arc and twisting the man’s wrist, breaking his hold on the hilt of the knife. It fell from his grasp, and she kicked it out of the way.
“Want to try again?” she asked.
Enraged now, he bared his teeth and charged at her, head first. She spun, then gave him a kick to the pants that sent him toppling to the asphalt parking lot. She put a knee to his back and pulled his arms behind him.
Mace handed her a spare pair of cuffs. “You’ve got some moves on you.”
After securing her man, she planted her hands on her hips. “What do we do with these yahoos?”
Mace pulled a length of rope from the bed of his pickup, tied the men back-to-back, and then bound their feet for good measure. “That should hold them until S&J gets the police on the horn and has them picked up.” A quick text to Shelley took care of the matter.
“Get your gear,” he said to Laurel. “I’ll have one of S&J’s operatives retrieve your car.”
She grabbed her backpack from her vehicle and headed to Mace’s truck.
He swung in the driver’s seat while Laurel slid in the passenger side and Sammy bounded over the seat to the back.
“Ever been on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride?” he asked.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, hold on. ’Cause we’re gonna take it now.”
With a squeal of tires, Mace peeled out of the parking lot. The narrow road wound its way through the valley then climbed steadily. Though navigating it required concentration, his mind wasn’t on the road but on the woman sitting at his side.
The tight set of her shoulders told him she was tense but wasn’t going to voice her worry aloud. Her sharp gaze was fixed on the road ahead.
“You’ve got some moves on you. You handled yourself like a pro back there,” he said.
She sent an unsmiling look his way. “I am a pro. I did the same training as you, Ransom. No one cut me slack because I’m female.”
“It shows.” She was as well-trained as any soldier he’d fought alongside. “Sorry.”
“Because you thought I was a poster child for women in the military and didn’t have what it takes to back it up?”
“No. I never doubted you had the goods. What
