Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(125)

“What the hell did you do?” Reholstering my pistol, I pull her inside and take the bazooka. It’s not light, and I don’t know if I’m pissed or impressed. “Eden, I appreciate the thought but this thing is useless without—”

“These. I know, Lucky showed me.” She unslings the bag and unzips it quickly. “I couldn’t carry that fancy box thing so I just grabbed a duffel.”

Nearly a dozen rounds spill out, and I flinch at the careless way they’re packed. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I decide now isn’t the time to yell at her about weapon safety. There are high explosive rounds, anti-tank rounds, illumination, smoke, area defense munitions . . .

“Eden,” I breathe, kneeling beside her.

She looks up at me nervously. “I’m sorry, I know you said to go to the cave, but I was thinking about . . . anyway I remembered about all the weapons, and I thought, if I could just get them to you then—”

I yank her to me, cutting her off with my tongue and kissing her thoroughly. When I pull back, she stares at me, breathless and dazed and looking like every fantasy I never realized I had. A rumpled, repressed librarian with more courage than I ever gave her credit for.

Then I hear shouting though the window—Jayk?—and a spray of gunfire, and I come back to earth.

“You did good, pet. Real good. Is there more?”

Blinking a few times, she sucks in a breath and then nods. “Yes, loads more. I just couldn’t carry them all.”

Relief and desperation spikes. “Okay, listen to me carefully. I need you to bring me some things.”

I quickly describe the weapons I need while loading the bazooka. I have no idea what Lucky has stashed—I thought we used most of what we grabbed from the base—but the damn guy was a magpie.

Is a magpie, damn it.

I lift the loaded weapon to my shoulder, and Eden gets to her feet.

“Eden?” I say as she turns to go. When her eyes lift to mine, as big and intelligent as the first time I saw her, I murmur, “Thank you.”

She gives me one slow, shy smile before she darts off, and I watch her go with a mix of pride and worry. That girl may have just saved our asses for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Forcing myself to refocus, I turn back to the fray. This changes everything. I have the firepower to smoke these assholes, trees notwithstanding—I just need Beau to get out of my way.

I pull out my radio, but just as I do, it flicks on, and Beau starts talking into the line before I can get a word in.

“Okay, buddy, this might be it, and I don’t have time to argue with you, so for once you’re just going to have to listen.

You’re the best friend I ever had, the best friend I ever could have had. I know the last while has been rough between us, and I’m sorry about that. I never should have let anyone get between us, and I ain’t proud I let my jealousy get the better of me. I just . . . I want you to be happy, Dom. You deserve it all.”

My throat closes over, and my head starts to spin. It never happens during combat, not ever, but pure horror starts to cloud my senses. I try to speak over him, but he has the line open, not letting me get a word in.

“You take care of our girl, okay? ’Cause that’s what she is, even if your stubborn ass wants to take its sweet time admitting that.”

“You cut this shit, Beau. Cut it right now,” I snap into the radio, but he can’t hear me. There’s no point. I know what this is, and he’s making this one sided. “I can take care of this, idiot, just get your ass gone. Open the damn line.”

“I think I can take these guys out, Dom. Or most of ’em anyway. Jasper and Jayk, they’ll have a bit of time—not a lot, mind, but a bit. Now Lucky’s cleared out the other side, they should have a straight shot to you. Cover them.”

Beau swallows, and it slices through me.

“Take care of yourself, too, Dom. I love you.”

The radio cuts out, and I immediately try to open the line so I can yell at him, stop him, something, but he’s disabled comms like I knew he was going to.

“Fuck!” I shout, shaking.

This is some kind of sick cosmic joke. I have all the firepower I could want, but I can’t use it without guaranteeing his death.

With unsteady movements, I take my rifle and press it to my damp eye, desperately searching through the scope. Sure enough, within minutes I make out a scuffle just beyond the tree line. Shots are fired, metal gleams and surprised, furious shouts follow, though they’re too far for me to make out words.

My finger hovers over the trigger, but I can’t see clearly. It’s too dark and there’s too much smoke. There’s no way of knowing if I’d be shooting Beau or one of the fuckers who were trying to steal my family from me. Despair constricts my lungs.

I lift my head and see the moment Jayk makes the decision to bolt, taking advantage of the reprieve, as he should. He pushes off the shed and runs over to the truck. Someone shoots at him from the far side of the woods, close to where Eden should be, and I swing my rifle round. Visibility is easier on this side, and I pick the too-bold hunter off with a single headshot.

Looking back, I see Jaykob slide in next to Jasper and Lucky like he’s just stolen second base. The spark of relief is momentary. A man backs out of the woods where the commotion is, firing into the trees—at Beau—and I shoot him in the back with ruthless efficiency.