Page 81 of Valor

Dad leaned against her. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly. “That good-for-nothing cop hasn’t done much of anything.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m fine, and it’s because of Allen.”

Dad wrinkled his nose. “I don’t believe that.”

She hated confronting her father and his way of thinking, especially now. He was her dad, and she’d always respected him. She still respected him, but he couldn’t keep thinking about Allen in a way that wasn’t right. “I don’t know what you have against him, but he has been the most amazing partner in hunting for you.”

“His mama was?—”

“No.” Heather had never let people judge her art based on her father’s. That wasn’t fair. He was his own man, and his art was different from hers. In the same way, she wouldn’t allow her father to equate a son with his mother. Especially now that she knew the circumstances.

“How do you even know who his mother is? Even Allen didn’t know.”

Allen stiffened at her side. She’d obviously spoken too loudly, meaning Micha had probably heard her too.

Micha swung toward them. “You don’t know my mother.” His words were venomous.

Ed held his hands in front of his head to protect himself. “I do. She was a very good friend of mine. I was trying to get her to befriend my wife. We’d planned to bring her to church. She was friendly, open and so smart. Gwenn deserved better than the bar. She deserved better than whathisfather did to her.” He jutted his chin toward Allen.

“She did,” Micha muttered. “So much better.” He took slow steps toward Allen.

No, this couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t let Allen get hurt. Not when her hands were free, and she could do something to stop him. Allen aligned his feet in front of him and scraped his back against the wall to push himself up. She winced, knowing that had to hurt his hands and probably the back of his head. Her own injured arm was screaming at her with the lack of moisture and being forced to stay in the same position. As the wound dried, it pulled against her tender skin.

“Stop right there.” Allen leaned slightly forward, gaining his balance away from the wall.

“And what are you going to do? Rush me like a football player?” Micha laughed.

Heather glanced at the other man in the room who’d brought her father down. He’d slowly drawn his gun in preparation for the fight. “Allen, look out.” She nodded her head toward the man across the room.

Allen spread his arms wide, surprising her and, obviously, Micha. While Allen was bound, he was an easy target. Free, he was a strong and capable adversary. She took the opportunity and stood, standing arms wide like Allen, to let them know she was free and ready to fight too.

Allen glanced at her for a split-second. Worry creased his brow. “Help your father, I’ve got this.”

She shook her head. If she stayed, it was two against two. They could help Dad once these two men weren’t breathing down their neck. Micha drew his knife. “I don’t recall giving you permission to free your hands. Either of you.” He glanced at the other man. “Eric, you may have to figure out a new plan. I don’t think these two will be available to be seen.” He pulled his knife back and crouched to lunge.

Allen gently shoved her toward her father and ran in the opposite direction, toward Eric. Micha was too far away to be a threat unless he flung his knife. He wouldn’t do that and risk being unarmed. She held onto her father, shielding him and watching the indecision on Micha’s face. For being so sure of himself, he wasn’t sure what to do when his authority was questioned.

“We need to run,” she whispered to her father.

He nodded and tried to push to his feet. Micha stepped toward him and narrowed his eyes. “I helped you, old man. I kept you alive the last few days. If I’d known you had a connection to my mother, that you tried to help her, I would’ve let you go. I didn’t know. Forgive me.” He closed his eyes as he thrust the knife.

Heather screamed as she shoved her father out of the way. Her brain did it for her. She didn’t consciously think of anything until the knife tore through her side.

“Heather!” Allen’s voice brought reality back and the pain along with it.

“You fool! What have you done?” Eric screamed at his minion.

“They’re trying to escape,” Micha retorted.

Allen rammed into Eric, knocking him against the wall. Eric grunted as his head slammed into the rock behind him. Micha stared at her, indecision clouding his eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, holding her side. Warmth spread over her fingers. Her blood pounded in her ears. She tried to focus on anything but the pain and the fact that if she didn’t get help soon, she would die.

Dad stood and headed for Micha in slow steps. “This isn’t who you are, son. Your mama wouldn’t be proud of this. You know she wouldn’t. She’s a good woman. Do you think she would support you hurting me or my daughter?”

Micha shook his head. “No, but I’m too deep. Eric will kill me if I don’t help him finish this job.”

“Don’t you think he’ll kill you anyway? Just like you had to get rid of those two who knew too much and, just like you told us we knew too much to stay alive. You are the only link left to his crimes. He can’t let you live.”

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