Page 128 of Finding Amanda

He heard slow footsteps behind him. "Don't kill him, Mark." Amanda's voice was soft.

But . . . he really wanted to. He pressed his palm onto Sheppard's chest. "Why not?"

She rested her hand against the back of his head, stroking his scalp with icy fingers. “You’re a good man.”

Was he, though?

He wanted more than anything to be the man she’d once believed he was. Her hero. But he’d done so many things since then, terrible things. In the war.

With Annalise.

What if he could never be the man Amanda needed?

But she was still there, calming him with those tender fingers in his hair. “It’s not who you are.”

“Are you . . . ?” Taking on a killer didn’t frighten him at all. But risking Amanda’s rejection was terrifying. “Are you sure?”

"I am."

He faced her. "Then who am I?"

"Come here."

He let her tug him away from Shepherd.

She rested her hand on his chest and at him. "You're our daughters' daddy, your parents' son. You're my husband . . ." Her voice cracked. "You're my heart. You’re the only man I've ever loved."

Oh.

Tears filled his eyes. She was here, alive. And in this moment, she loved him again. He drew in a lungful of cold air and let the relief fill him.

Amanda was trembling. He could hardly see her in the dark, but he could feel the shudders against his jacket. He took it off and draped it around her shoulders, then wrapped her in his arms. "You're going to be okay."

"Mark?"

Her voice was weakening.Jesus, I can't lose her now.He scooped her into his arms, carried her across the small clearing, and set her down against the trunk of a pine tree. He reached for his flashlight, but it was gone, probably lost in the scuffle. He slid his phone from his pocket and dialed Chris, using the light from its display screen to look her over.

Chris answered. "You find her?"

Mark put the phone on speaker, still looking for bruises or blood. "She's hurt. Sheppard's unconscious. We need an ambulance."

"They're already on the way. I'll tell them to move in."

"Okay. If they follow the road near my truck, they'll come to a sedan. There's a path just north of the sedan—they should be able to follow our tracks. We're about a hundred yard east of the path."

"Got it."

Mark ended the call. "Honey, you still with me?"

"I'm all right."

He didn't see any blood. He pushed the power button on his phone to keep the light on.

"Mark?"

"Where did he hit you? Tell me what hurts." Mark brought the phone close to her face and saw a red mark. "Here.” He touched her cheek, tenderly so as not to hurt her. "Where else?—?"

“Listen to me." She pushed the phone away.

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