“Shea!” James struggled against his bonds, his body working frantically to get loose. Cam dangled limply from his wrists.
Shea pulled a knife from her waist as Dane picked off anybody who got too close.
Say what you will about his whining, the man came through in a pinch.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” James pleaded as she cut him loose. “I didn’t know.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now.”
Her adrenaline thundering through her body, Shea sawed through the last of the rope, pulling James free. She shoved a knife in his hand and pushed him towards Cam.
“Get Cam loose.”
He stumbled, nearly dropping the knife before reaching over Cam to work at the ropes.
Shea drew another knife and went to work on the nearest stranger’s hands. She flinched each time Dane picked off another villager but kept at the rope.
“Powerful weapon, that,” the whiskey-eyed stranger observed.
Shea grunted in agreement as he pulled free and moved on to the next man.
“Shea,” James shouted. “Come on. We have to go.”
She cast a glance around as she sawed. Horses had reached the square and were now stampeding past them, shaking the platform as they rushed by. Where did he think they could go?
“Thanks,” the last man said rubbing his wrists. “We’re in your debt.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to escape this gods be damned, shithole of a village.”
How exactly they were supposed to do that, she hadn’t worked out. Yet.
“What do we do?” James said in panic as he hobbled up to her. With Cam’s arm slung over his shoulder, James was supporting most of the man’s weight.
Horses still raced past them, but the herd was thinning. Shea didn’t know how Witt managed to get so many to stampede, but as a distraction, it worked amazingly well. The only problem was that now they couldn’t get off the platform without risking being trampled. Soon that wouldn’t be a problem, but the villagers who had sought shelter in the neighboring buildings were already poised at their doors, ready to recapture the men she’d just released.
One of the strangers tapped her on the shoulder. “Is he with you?”
Shea squinted at where he pointed.
Was that Witt at the rear of the herd, driving a wagon?
Yes.
She couldn’t believe it, but it was.
As she watched, Dane swung down from his roof, to a shorter building before leaping into the wagon bed and climbing onto the front seat next to Witt.
She grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder.
“Prepare to jump.”
“In there?” James asked, wild eyed. “While it’s still moving?”
“It’s not like they can stop and wait until we get comfortable.”
“They’ll slow down, right?”
Shea ignored the question, instead stepping up to the edge of the platform and gesturing for the rest to join her.
“Jump right before the wagon reaches you,” the man she’d freed said.
James and Cam balked. Shea shoved them into place. There wasn’t time for fear. They needed action, not doubt. The stranger with the whiskey-colored eyes tugged Cam’s arm from James while his friend put Cam’s other arm over his shoulder, sandwiching Cam between them.
“Shea, this is madness. We can’t make that jump,” James hissed at her.
She took him by the arm. The wagon was seconds away, Witt’s face focused and determined as he barreled down on them.
Shea looked James in the eye. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
She shoved him off the platform, forcing him to jump or fall to his death. Shea followed right as the wagon scraped by, knocking against the structure in the process. The strangers and Cam leapt at the same time, making the jump easily. James landed awkwardly on his side, safely in the wagon’s bed. Shea fell on top of him, her knee landing squarely on his stomach, nearly catapulting her off the other side in the process. The whiskey-eyed stranger grabbed her by the back of the shirt and hauled her back in before she could dive headfirst into the ground. He dumped her in the bottom next to the others.
“Thanks,” she said, patting him on the arm. The ground raced by. She didn’t think she would have survived the landing. “Guess I owe you one now.”
A slight smile partially thawed his granite expression. “Just returning the favor.”
His eyes seemed capable of staring right through a person, sizing them up in moments and learning all their secrets in the process.
Shoulder length brown hair framed a sharp featured face possessing rigidly defined cheekbones and jaw. Everything about him screamed strength. From his nose, to his mouth, to the way he held himself. He was over a head taller than Shea, who wasn’t exactly short. His hands, where they held her arms, were calloused and rough-hewn. There was a small scar, almost unnoticeable unless one was as close to him as Shea was, along his jaw line. It was almost hidden beneath the stubble covering a chin that hadn’t seen a razor in days.
His presence brought to mind words like forceful, powerful, intimidating. He was like a tightly leashed wild animal. Awe-inspiring and magnificent right up until the moment it decided you were its next meal.
Shea moved away from him. She was forced to crawl over James so she could clap Witt on the back. “That was some distraction.”
“Glad you liked it,” he shouted back as he deftly handled the horses.
The wagon bounced harshly, putting air between it and Shea. She landed hard enough to rattle bones. The others braced themselves against the sides. Traveling at breakneck speeds over uneven ground by wagon didn’t make for a comfortable ride.
“What about me?” Dane shouted. The noise from the horses’ hooves and the clatter of the wagon’s wheels nearly drowned out his voice.
Shea ducked her head, hiding a grin. “I don’t know. You almost hit me a time or two with your shots.”
“Almost hit you?” Dane’s voice rose a few notes in indignation. He turned to glare at her, shaking the boomer in emphasis. “There’s no almost about it. Each shot was perfectly placed and went exactly where I aimed. Almost hit you, my ass.”
He was right, but Shea was loath to admit it. To his face anyway. His ego was big enough as it was. As Dane muttered about how he’d known exactly what he was doing, Shea turned her attention to the others. She knelt by Cam’s side where he was propped up against the wagon’s side.
“How bad are you hurt?”
His face was a mask of pain, and he grimaced at the question. He groaned as the wagon lurched under them. Shea steadied herself against the wagon’s side.
“They beat him pretty badly,” said the first stranger’s friend. “I did what I could for his ribs, but there may be injuries beneath the skin that need to be treated.”
The stranger had grey eyes and appeared to be the same age as his friend. Though more handsome than the other man, he didn’t carry the same sort of presence. This one seemed more easygoing, like he enjoyed a laugh.
“I’ll be fine,” Cam said through gritted teeth.
Shea very much doubted that. He had two black eyes. One had already swollen shut. Blood was caked beneath his nose and around his mouth. The nose was probably broken. All that could be fixed given time. What worried her was the slight breathlessness he had every time he inhaled. As if something heavy was on his chest when there was no obvious obstruction. She suspected with the way he’d been moving earlier that one or both of his legs were injured.