Page 51 of Captive at Rescue Ridge

In the next second, Archer scrambled onto his knees and on top of the bastard.

“Scoot away,” he said to Annalee. From the corner of his eye, he saw her frantically searching for something. The gun?

Russ tried to spin around onto his back. The bastard came up with the weapon and, in his haste, tried to use the butt of it to deliver a knockout blow to Archer’s head.

“Not today, asshat,” Archer said, grabbing the weapon before wrestling it out of Russ’s hand. Once Archer held it, he tossed it far away and out of reach so he wouldn’t risk Russ gaining control of the weapon. There was no contest in hand-to-hand combat, even in his weakened state. But that didn’t mean Russ was going down easy.

Fingers dug into the gashes in Archer’s ankle. Pain shot through him. He grunted a few choice words that would have made Beaumont wash his mouth out with soap.

Throwing an elbow, he managed to knock Russ’s hand off, giving a small reprieve from the intense pain.

Archer pivoted, spinning like an alligator with prey in its jaws. A tree trunk stopped them, nailing him in the shoulder. The injuries were racking up, but he was only concerned for Annalee. If she didn’t get help soon, she could lose too much blood. She could pass out.

The image gave him a boost of much-needed adrenaline. Full strength, he could take Russ down in a heartbeat. With the blood loss and injuries, he struggled to bring the bastard down.

Russ bucked at the right moment, throwing Archer off.

A shot fired. Russ screamed in pain as blood squirted from his thigh.

Archer glanced up in time to see Annalee standing, feet apart in an athletic stance, aiming the gun at Russ.

“That’s right, Russ. I’m not going to kill you. But you will feel the pain of being shot.”

Sirens came wailing toward them. Someone must have heard the shot.

“The first bullet is for me. The second will be for my mother.” Her skin was bleached sheet-white, her lips blue, as she let her finger hover over the trigger mechanism.

Russ folded into a ball, grabbing his legs and pulling them up to his chest. “Don’t shoot again.” His voice came out in a whine.

“Don’t get up, and I’ll con…”

Annalee dropped to the ground, unconscious. Archer dove toward her, then palmed the gun so Russ couldn’t counterstrike. Unlike in the movies, when someone was shot, they kept coming.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he whispered to Annalee as he kept the weapon trained on a sobbing Russ. The man made Archer want to throw up.

In the next minute, the cavalry arrived. Travis and Owen came bolting toward them, along with several EMTs.

“Help her, please,” he said to them as Travis immediately stopped beside Russ.

“I need medical here,” Travis shouted.

One of the EMTs broke off and ran over to Travis. He kneeled in front of Russ, who was handcuffed and in a sitting position now. A whitecoat was already working on Annalee as a third stopped next to Archer.

“Take care of her,” Archer instructed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sir, you’re losing blood,” the EMT said. “I suggest you let me attend to you so you can be there for her when she’s conscious again.”

Archer issued a sharp sigh before nodding.

“I’m Seth,” the EMT said, his name on a tag.

“Where’s Becca?” Archer asked as Owen sat down beside him.

“She’s being transported to the hospital with a deputy escort,” Owen replied. “She’s going to be okay.” He nodded toward Annalee. “What happened?”

“The bastard shot her then hit her in the back of the head with a rock. He kicked her, too.”

“He will be going away for a very long time,” Owen said. “Rest assured.”

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