Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(5)

“Hold on tight, darlin’.” His Southern accent is thick and sweet as honey. “Don’t want you falling off halfway up.”

I nod against his neck and squeeze closer.

Beau scales the path surprisingly fast, despite my awkward weight. When we reach the ledge, he stands long enough for me to drop my legs, but his hands linger on my hips, holding me close to him for a moment too long. I’m unable to miss his interest —it presses insistently against me.

I stagger backwards, startled, and he gives me a rueful smile.

“Girl.” There’s even more snap to Dom’s rough voice than before. He kneels behind a large boulder and peers down at the clearing. His heavy gun is nestled in his arms. “Get down. Sit behind this rock and don’t move.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to me.

“It’s Eden,” I mutter, but I quickly do as he says. Girl? I’m twenty-seven. I haven’t been a girl for years. It’s even worse than ‘sweetheart.’

Beau settles behind a smaller rock, swinging his gun around and into position. I peek around to scan the trees. Nothing. I search the upper branches but can’t see Lucky. I hope that means they won’t be able to either. He’s stopped whistling, and I miss the jaunty tune. As ridiculous as it was to hear amid the gunshots and bellowed insults, it made me feel oddly safe. All I can hear now is the nearing crash of my hunters, their shouts growing louder and louder.

My anxiety kicks up a notch. I crane my neck around the rock as if a new angle might give me x-ray vision. Everything in me tells me to run.

“What part of ‘don’t move’ don’t you understand?”

I pull back with a scowl, then wish I hadn’t obeyed quite so fast. Amber eyes, molten with ire, glare at me. Dom’s skin is dusky brown and stubble lines his strong jaw. He really is a beautiful man. Or he would be if he weren’t so cranky.

The crashing sounds stop.

“Come on, bitch. Enough games,” a loud, nasal voice shouts from below.

Another joins it. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

I swallow hard, hand seeking my knife. More hoots and jeers follow. I know what will happen if they catch me. I’ve seen the leftovers of others caught by men like this, and the images still haunt my nightmares. Unfortunately, most people who survived the lawless years after the strikes aren’t the sort I want to be caught by—which is why I hid myself away in my cave for four years. A woman alone is far too vulnerable.

From my crouch, I look at Dom. His focus is entirely on the clearing in front of him. Why isn’t he doing anything?

“I know you cunts like to play hard to get, but this is getting ridiculous!” the first voice calls again. Scattered laughter sounds from below. “You’ll pay for our trouble, slut. You’ll get it in every fucking hole.”

Dom’s lip tenses, almost a curl, his brows lowering with unholy rage.

I tremble. I will use my knife. Anything is better than being taken by them. I rub the hilt between my fingers in a silent, fervent promise.

“Cover your ears,” Dom mutters.

I ignore him. I’ve heard worse from these men before. It isn’t their words that puts the queasy churn in my insides. This is hopeless. Ridiculous. There are too many of them, they will— Crack!

The sound of the gunshot beside me is deafening. Then a flurry of them follows. My ears ring. I swing my head around, then push my slipping glasses back into position. Dom’s broad body shifts rhythmically as he fires, but I can’t hear anything.

Releasing my knife, I finally slap my hands over my ears.

Too late.

The ringing reverberates in my skull until even the gunshots are drowned out.

My eyes travel to Beau, who looks grim but calm as he fires. Biting my lip, I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing.

In.

Out.

Everything will be fine.

In.

Out.

I will use my knife if it comes to it.

In.

Out.

One quick, deep slice across my throat will do it.

In.

Out.

A rough hand shakes my shoulder, and I fumble to find the knife. It only takes me a moment to realize there’s no need.

It’s . . . over.

Dom pulls back when my eyes open and he stands up. He waits for a minute, watching the clearing, then nods and looks down at me. He says something, but I shake my head, my ears still ringing. He scowls.

I’m floating with shock. It can’t have been that easy. There were so many of them.

Dom gives me a vexed look and walks toward the “path” back down the cliff. Then Beau is in front of me, forehead crinkled in concern.

I squeeze my eyes shut again. This is too much. Relief and fear and confusion clog my throat with hot tears. They leak between my lids. How can it be over so quickly? I’ve been running for days. At least days . A sob escapes, quickly followed by more I can’t hold in.

Strong arms lift me, and I wrap myself around Beau again without thinking. I cry into his dusty T-shirt on the way down the cliff. When we reach the bottom, I realize I can hear my own soft weeping, and the deafening ringing in my ears finally settles into a soft, background twang.





Chapter 4


Eden


SURVIVAL TIP #38

Cheese = safety.