He swings it across Declan’s face, pistol-whipping him so hard I hear the resounding crack of bones as his head tears to the side.
Then, with a moan, he falls down in a heap that’s almost pathetic for a man who tries to have so much bluster.
Suddenly it’s just me and Holt while the ghost town erupts into stray shots and wild hollering around us.
We stare at each other like there’s nothing else in the world.
I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my life.
I knew he’d come for me.
I knew he’d save me.
I knew there was no way in hell I was letting someone like Declan take me out without seeing my man, my knight, my hero again.
But now that he’s here, looking at me with those intense bourbon-gold eyes, practically devouring me in this endless breath between us, I feel it.
That hot emotion inside me I’ve been trying to deny. It comes up like magma ready to burst through to the surface.
I know it. I dread it. I need it.
Love.
It can’t be anything but love for this brave, crazy, infuriating beast of a man.
It’s on my lips, my mouth opening at the same time as his.
“Holt—”
“Libby—”
We both break off in a laugh, but before we can say anything else, Plath shakes her head with an impatient snort and shoves her nose against my chest, nearly knocking me back.
“Calm down, girl!” I tell her. “I’m okay. I’m getting to it.”
The hollering has died down around us. I’m guessing Declan’s men have all surrendered. No match at all for the men of Heart’s Edge.
I let out a soft oof, then chuckle and stroke her mane, her face, her velvety nose.
“She missed you,” Holt says, voice thick and alluring as a bonfire. “She’s not the only one.”
I angle my head, looking up at the gorgeous man sitting so tall and proud on Plath’s back. “So you missed me, huh?”
“A hell of a lot, honey. More than that, too. Think we need to do some talkin’, but for now…” He offers me his hand. “C’mon. Let’s help the boys finish rounding up the trash before Langley gets here.”
I grin and slip my hand into his, savoring the sweet thrill of his voice, his touch, his strength as he lifts me up into the saddle effortlessly, settling me in front of him with his thighs flanking mine and his body wrapped hot around me.
One thing’s for sure.
Holt sure knows the way to my heart.
Maybe it’s a path laid in the blood of my enemies instead of rose petals.
But who wouldn’t love a man who gives her first dibs at vengeance?
24
Time to Pony Up (Holt)
It’s a few more days before Libby and I get to have that talk.
I haven’t even figured out what I want to say to her that won’t have me sounding like an addled, lovestruck idiot.
Falling all over myself to tell her how much I love her, need her, want her to stay in my life.
How bad I want to help her turn that ranch into a home full of light, laughter, and family.
We’ve been a little busy for heart-to-hearts, handling the fallout of that mess in Ursa, and then passing out stone-cold tired next to each other at night.
Libby snores a tiny bit in her sleep when she’s that exhausted.
No plans to tell her—I like living.
Frankly, I’m amazed we even survived.
Sure, Declan’s men were chickens who turned tail and ran.
Libby almost outdid a whole crew of heroes and put the fear of pint-sized firecrackers into those boys that night.
After that dustup, it’s mostly been dealing with the police.
A very put-out Langley, who’s sick of this town’s bad habit of leaving him out of the loop until it boils over and someone needs to clean it up and put a nice, neat legal stamp on things after asses have been kicked.
It couldn’t be helped.
We also couldn’t hold back the truth anymore with Declan and his guys tied up, then turned over to the police.
Gerald Bostrom’s bones finally came to light.
Nothing we could do except turn everything over to law enforcement and tell Langley the truth about Ursa.
That Libby knew about the dead body, and so did her dad.
We just left out the part about Mark Potter killing the guy.
That’s a detail he can figure out on his own. Hell, maybe it’s his shot at sussing out loose ends we couldn’t.
I can’t blame Libby for being nervous as hell—especially when Langley calls and says he wants to talk to us in Ursa.
It could mean nothing.
It could mean everything.
It could rip apart her life and her world.
So I’ve gotta be the strong one today.
While she’s a jittery mess, bouncing off the walls, I try to keep it together quiet and steady.
I hold her hand tight, until I’ve got to let her go to hand her up into Frost’s saddle and mount up on Plath.