“I intend to kill you and collect the reward, if that is what you mean. And claim the gold as well.” Jack waved one of his pistols at Brynn. “Is this your lovely lady?”
Mentally Lucian voiced a violent oath, his mind searching frantically as he tried to conceal his desperation. He wouldn’t survive this encounter, he suspected, but he could perhaps bargain for Brynn’s safety.
He was clearly at a disadvantage, though. He and Jack had their pistols trained on each other, but Brynn stood closer to the Frenchman, partially in the way. If he moved too quickly, Lucian knew, he risked her being shot. And Jack was growing impatient.
“You will oblige me by putting down your weapon,” the Frenchman ordered.
Keeping his features a cool mask, Lucian shook his head. “And relinquish my only asset? No, monsieur, I prefer the current odds. With your two pistols to my one, you cannot hit all three of us.”
“But I can certainly shoot Lady Wycliff. She will be the first, and then I will take great pleasure in dispatching you.”
“Let her go, and I will consider disarming.”
Lucian stepped forward slowly, making himself a bigger target, but the Frenchman barked out a sharp command. “That is far enough!”
Halting, Lucian balanced on the balls of his feet, preparing to spring and pull Brynn behind him.
“I told you to put down your pistol,” Jack repeated.
“Let my wife go free, and I will.”
Jack’s mouth curled in a sneer. “Do you think me a fool?”
Lucian started to reply when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Grayson stooping, evidently intent on picking up his discarded weapon.
Smoothly, with scarcely a blink, Jack shifted his focus and fired one pistol directly at Grayson, who abruptly clutched his side in pain. The explosion reverberated with a hollow ring all around the cave, mingling with Brynn’s scream of horror as Grayson crumpled to the ground. Lucian’s heart jolted in his chest.
Everything afterward seemed to move with infinite slowness… The Frenchman swerved his aim back to Lucian and got off a second shot just as Brynn lunged at the traitor.
Lucian’s heart ceased beating entirely as she leapt into the path of the bullet, shielding him with her own body while throwing her lamp at the Frenchman with all her might. The lamp shattered in midair a scarce instant before she pitched face-forward on the ground, whether from tripping or being shot, Lucian couldn’t tell.
Terror exploded inside him, along with a blinding rage. Rashly he raised his pistol and fired, but the Frenchman dodged and the shot went wide, careening off the rock wall, splintering and sending dusty fragments flying.
In motion before the blast’s echo had faded, Lucian gave a roar of pure animal fury and dove across the cave. He hurled himself at the Frenchman, aiming for the thighs, his full weight behind his assault.
Jack reeled backward under the bone-jarring impact of being tackled to the cold rock floor, his useless weapons clattering to the ground.
Taking advantage of his opponent’s momentary daze, Lucian pushed himself up to a straddling position and landed a blow with his fist, determined to pummel the Frenchman into a bloody pulp. He released another brutally powerful punch to the jaw, then another, showing no mercy despite the man’s cries of pain.
When Jack raised his hands in an effort to defend himself against the ferocious onslaught, Lucian glanced fleetingly over his shoulder, desperately seeking Brynn, needing to know the worst. He saw her struggling to rise from the ground and felt a fierce surge of relief, knowing she couldn’t be too terribly injured.
His distraction proved costly, however. The Frenchman’s fist struck his temple, pain blinding him for a precious second as the skin above his eye split.
Cursing, Lucian dodged his opponent’s next blows and tried to clear his vision of the blood dripping from his wound. An instant later he was choking as Jack’s clawing fingers caught him by the throat. He let fly another hard jab and rolled to the side, forcing the Frenchman to loosen his grip.
Behind him, Brynn staggered to her knees, trying to clear her dazed senses. She was winded from having tripped, and her arm stung like fire from a gunshot wound. But the bullet had missed Lucian, that was all that mattered. Her relief was so profound, she felt weak-a relief that was short-lived.
She saw Lucian fighting, while Gray lay on his back, his hands groping his side, his face ashen. She bit back a sob. Grayson was alive at least, while Lucian needed help.
Her frantic gaze landed on her brother’s pistol, which lay several yards from her. Jolting herself from her paralysis, she climbed to her feet and stumbled over to the weapon, catching it up to hold the grip in both hands.
She couldn’t shoot, though, without fear of hitting Lucian, who was locked in mortal combat. When she heard a groan at her feet, she spared a brief glance for her brother.
“I never knew… being shot… would hurt so much,” he gasped.
His voice was almost drowned out by the grunts of the combatants, but it was Lucian’s sharp curse that sent cold horror spiraling down to Brynn’s belly. The two men were wrestling side by side now, but the Frenchman had a knife!
The blade flashed as he raised his arm and stabbed downward. With another curse, Lucian jerked backward, then reached up to grasp his opponent’s wrist with both hands.