No White Knight

Suddenly that gun’s at my temple again.

I freeze.

“Look.” Declan raps me with the pistol barrel, enough to make my teeth rattle. “I’m not here for you to tell me some kind of tall tale and pull one over on me. But if that rock’s worth what you say it is…nothing’s stopping me from taking it by force. Either way, I’m sick of this shit, and we’re done.”

“For once, you’re right,” Holt says coolly. “We’re very fucking done.”

A noise in the distance makes me perk my head up.

An engine blaring.

Lights flash bright over the entire town, bathing Ursa in shadows and white glow.

Then there’s a scream…a freaking siren?

Something huge comes barreling out the other side of the mountain pass, and it’s pure chaos.

Everyone’s screaming, running like maniacs, and that big roaring beast of a machine plows on right at Declan.

Right at me.

Now!

I kick back hard, and as much as I’d like to sock Declan another good one in the nuts, I end up nailing him in the knee instead.

Just for good measure, I bite down hard on his arm, sinking my teeth in deep.

He makes a strangled sound, flailing around.

But he drops me.

I go rolling out of the way, just as what I swear to God looks like a fire truck comes whipping through and smashes into the church.

Holy hell.

Didn’t I see something like this at the last Winter Carnival when everything went nuts?

There’s no time to decide.

Declan’s thrown himself to the side.

Dammit! I was hoping they’d gotten him, but he’s not getting far.

Not when three big men leap off the back of the truck and bring an instant smile to my face.

Warren, Doc, and Leo, the Heroes of Heart’s Edge. They’re huge, swift shadows in the night, chasing down the idiots trying to make a break from bedlam.

The fourth musketeer, Blake, climbs out of the driver’s seat with a big grin, while Holt thunders in on horseback, into the panicked goons in full retreat.

It’s a total flipping riot.

Dust billows up everywhere and the church starts collapsing in on itself, the siren piercing the night with another ear-splitting shriek.

Maybe that’s why I’m the only one who sees it.

Declan rises, his face twisted into the nastiest fit of rage I’ve ever seen. He staggers to his feet and whips around to take aim at Holt.

Like hell!

Before I can even think, I throw myself at him.

I’m small, but I hit like a cannonball, diving at his legs and taking him out at the knees.

We go down hard together.

A loud gunshot cracks off and zings past me. So close I feel the heat kiss my shoulder before it slams into the church and hits something, but I’m focused on Declan.

He’s not getting up again if I have anything to say about it.

I lift up.

Raise my elbow.

And then pile-drive it down into his nuts so fast they crunch.

Never let it be said I didn’t learn anything from Sierra. She was on a real self-defense kick for a while—I just wish she’d used her skills more on the trash men she keeps dating.

Tonight, I do it for her.

Declan flops forward with a howl, but I guess all that pain gets him blazing mad, because this time he comes up swinging, charging me like a drunken bull.

But I’m already rolling away, just as the thunder of hooves rolls in.

The timing is sweet perfection.

Declan freezes as Holt pulls up behind me, tall and proud on Plath’s back.

He shoves that Colt of his right between Declan’s eyes.

“You dropped your gun,” Holt says—his voice light, but his eyes are pure steel. “And your men are scattering. Choose wisely.”

Not that they’re gonna get far.

I can hear the boys whooping, taunting Declan’s goons as they round them up like cattle, practically having fun with it.

“You okay, Libby?” Holt asks, never taking his eyes or his gun off Declan’s frozen, furious face.

“Nothing I can’t fix by socking this swamp rat in the face a few more times,” I snarl, dusting myself off.

Holt thumbs the hammer on his Colt. “What do you say, Declan? Want to let the lady use you for a punching bag, or should I drop you dead right here?”

Declan curls his upper lip. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Shit. You’re spoiling to be wrong twice tonight?”

I tense. That’s just the thing. I could totally see Holt ending him.

Right here, right now.

He’s got that strength and killer instinct in him.

The willpower to knowingly take a man’s life to save someone else’s, even though he’ll have to carry that weight for the rest of his days.

If the reasons were right, if there were no other options…he’d kill for me.

Something Declan never could.

But Holt leans down over Plath’s neck, bringing himself close to the thug, meeting his eyes with a dark, heavy promise.

“Lucky for you,” Holt growls, “I have a fucking conscience.”

Right before he draws back, quickly reversing the Colt with a practiced ease.