Page 239 of Screwged for Christmas

She cringed slightly but didn’t take her eyes off the bigger man that dominated over the others by at least two shoulders. He took up damn near the entire back alley and was losing a lot of blood.

Fact: cold and blood loss didn’t go well together. He would be dead within minutes if he didn’t find help.

“Reaper,” she asked tentatively. Shivers climbed up the back of her legs and she could no longer tell if it was from the cold or fear. Nothing scary about a pack of mountain men who looked like they could rip off heads. Anger collided with the harsh reality of the blizzard hitting Savage Ridge.

“What happened? Were you attacked?” Everything from the conversation with the Savage twins earlier came to mind.

Pale eyes gazed at her and she knew he was in pain. She moved to help him when he slipped, weakened by blood loss no doubt, when heavy footsteps and a vise-like grip around her midriff brought her to a sudden stop.

Wool slipped over her shoulders and in seconds Damon had her bundled in the heavy coat she’d forgotten in her haste to escape him. “Ivy, angel, get inside. God, woman, you don’t just approach a man when he’s crazed with rage and leaking like a faucet.” Damon snarled over the gusts of wind that tunneled through the back alley. Off in the distance the faint sound of propellers belonging to Drake’s plane faded.

Damn it. Now how did she get out of here?

Out of the corner of her eye, a piece of silvery black flashed in the bright spotlight that hung over the back door as Damon slipped his phone into his pocket.

The tricky bastard. She narrowed her eyes on him as he scooped an arm out and pushed her behind him. He’d called Drake behind her back. She mentally took a note to talk to him about boundaries, but for now it looked like they had a different problem to handle. She didn’t have to be a backwoods mountain woman to know that whatever this was would not be good and wasn’t a common occurrence. Not even in Alaska.

“What the hell happened, Reaper?” Damon demanded.

Ragged slashes tore at the skin of his chest from a wicked blade at first guess.

Reaper and his men wore blood-splattered jeans and boots. The fight left their shirts and coats in tatters hanging around their arms and torsos like torn paper.

“We’ve been attacked. I think we have a common enemy now.”

Damon stepped forward and she followed him, taking Reaper by the opposite arm.

“Traffickers?” It didn’t come out as a question but more of a fierce statement filled with disgust.

Reaper nodded and pulled out of their arms.

“Do you know a name? The person who did this to you?” she asked, eyeing his sides. Her fingers trembled as she eased apart the jagged edges of a wound that looked singed with something. Acid?

Ivy’s glasses slipped and she righted them with a trembling hand as she took a closer look at the other men. All looked like they went up against an army and narrowly escaped.

Unrelenting snow battered all of them.

“Some Christmas,” she muttered. “Such violence. Who would miss a small community tucked away north of the Arctic Circle?” She repeated Damon’s words back to him, and the chill of their meaning seeped into her mind.

“I remember your sister said you were a doctor.” The full force of Reaper’s gaze fell on her. “We need your help.” His words came out stronger than a demand. As if when he spoke it became law.

“No. I’m no doctor.” Her eyes darted between him and the other two men who flanked him on either side.

Reaper turned as if to walk back out into the snowstorm that gathered force every second they spent talking. Cold claws of trepidation snuck beneath her heavy coat and sent a spiral of goosebumps down her spine. Fear thicker than the air clogged her throat. What kind of human being was she to turn them away injured, bleeding and no hospital for hours?

She advanced and grabbed Reaper’s arms right below the elbow.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “There are more, Ivy. My family needs me. And you.” His tone came out colder than the snow that gathered at their feet on top of the several feet already fallen. “I gathered a couple of my brothers to come here to get help and you turn us away from fear? What do you have to fear? They are already either dying or dead.”

How many brothers did he have?

His accusation struck hard. “What do you mean? How do you know anything about me?”

“It’s in your eyes.” He paused. “I need a doctor for my people. The nasty fucking bastards died for what they did, but not without a cost to me and my family.”

At least they weren’t walking into an ambush. Small miracle there.

Something in Reaper’s tight expression, the way his eyes searched hers struck a note of desperation she didn't expect.

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