“You sniveling mother fucker,” Joe whispered, and grabbed him by his collar to haul him back to his feet. Joe rattled him with a firm shake. “I've got you now.”
Quincy Owen attempted to straighten, to jerk free. “What do you think you're doing,” he blustered. “How dare you attack me.”
“Attack you?” They each had to shout to be heard over the fury of the storm. Heavy waves slapped against the shoreline. Joe shook Quincy again. “You're lucky I don't rip you in half. The only thing saving you is that Scott Royal wants to arrest you himself.” Joe narrowed his eyes on Quincy's face, then released him. “Give yourself up, and I won't beat the shit out of you.”
Quincy backpeddled a step. “Give myself up? For what?” He sounded hysterical. His sodden windbreaker hung on his shoulders, and his dress slacks were now caked with mud. “I'm only here for a . . . a neighborly visit.”
“Is that why you were breaking into the shed?”
He shook his head hard. “Don't be ridiculous. What could you possibly own that I'd want?”
Loathing burned the back of Joe's throat. “I'm thinking it's what you don't want. Convincing Patricia to close down the lake. Setting fires. Painting insults.” Joe had never been able to stay unemotional when dealing with the scum of the earth, but this man sickened him more than most. “You want the kids gone.”
Alarmed, Quincy's dark brown eyes shifted, looking for an avenue of escape. But with Joe in front of him, the lake behind him, he had nowhere to go. “What kids? I don't know what you're talking about.”
Joe stalked him, forcing Quincy to back up in circles. “You bought this place for Chloe, didn't you? You thought it'd keep her happy and conveniently close. But what happened, Quince? The kids starting to look too much like you now? You afraid everyone's going to figure out who their daddy really is? And when they do start noticing the resemblance, your sterling reputation will be shot to hell. That's it, isn't it?”
“Shut up.”
“Your wife might not like that, huh? God knows the town will be so disappointed. Not only did you father two illegitimate children, but you failed to live up to your responsibilities to those kids.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” he shouted.
“Platinum hair and dark brown eyes. Poor Quince. They look just like you, don't they?” Joe maneuvered him into the side of the shed, boxing him in so that he could no longer retreat. “They're your flesh and blood, and you've wanted only to rid yourself of them. You've spread nasty rumors and made their lives hell. It was Dinah who called the social worker, wasn't it? And it was her car you used to sneak onto the property.”
“Lies! All lies.”
“You're a miserable, insufferable little worm, and when people find out, they'll wash their hands of you.”
Like a cornered rat, Quincy struck out. He pulled back a fist and swung. Joe took the blow on the chin. In comparison to the disgust he currently felt, the pain was negligible. “There you go, Quince.” His grin spread in tandem with his anger. “You struck firstâwhich leaves me free to retaliate.”
Joe's blow to Quincy's gut doubled him over, making him heave and gag. He wrapped his arms around his middle and sank to his knees, struggling for air.
“What were you going to do to the shed?” With Quincy momentarily immobilized, Joe reached inside his windbreaker. His fingers finally closed on several flares tucked in an inside pocket to keep them dry. “Ah, another fire, huh? How redundant. No imagination at all. But then, as long as mishaps keep occurring, we can't very well invite other people onto the property, huh? In fact, with you spreading rumors, you probably think everyone will blame Austin.”
“Go to hell.”
“You hoping to slow us down, Quincy? I mean, if we successfully reopen the lake, there'd be no reason to move, huh?”
“No.”
Joe pulled the collar of the windbreaker aside. “Scratches, just like the ones I got, only worse, because the last time we tangled, your ass was on the ground. Your stepson said you got a cat. Was that your clever way of explaining the marks left by brambles and brush? You really tried to cover the bases, didn't you? Did your wife believe that pathetic story?” Joe shook his head. “Don't worry, I'll set her straight just as soon as I see you locked in jail.”
Cautiously, with one arm still squeezed tight around his stomach, Quincy staggered upright. “Why do you care, you son of a bitch? Patricia was ready to leave. She'd have taken the kids away from here, and everything would have been fine. Then you and that other bitch showed up.”
Joe whispered, “Do you want me to kill you, Quincy? Is that it?”
Panicked, Quincy said, “Why don't you just leave?” His eyes narrowed maliciously as he plotted his next offer. “You can take the kids with you. I'll even pay you to go. Just tell me how much it'll cost me.”
“You don't have a single thing I want, Quincy.”
Except for your children.
But Joe wouldn't admit that to him. Then he saw Quincy's eyes shift to the side and widen with new alarm.
Joe held Quincy immobile with a hand tight on his throat while jerking around to face the new threat. He got a surprise. Not twenty feet away, between him and the house, stood the man he'd seen in town.
Also blond. Also trespassing. Not nearly a wimp.
Well, fuck. He just hated coincidences, he really did.
Joe had only a moment to gauge the situation, but he figured he could take the other guy. He was of a similar size to Joe, and judging by his limber, ready stance, he knew how to fight. But Joe had the adrenaline rush on his side. Even with Quincy to contend with, he could hold his own.
Hell, he was even looking forward to it.
That is, before he saw Luna creeping up on the other man with a shovel in her hands.
“Goddammit, no!”
Joe shouted out the warning at the same time that the other man heard her approach. Taken off guard, he reacted automatically. With a swiftness that Joe might have admired in any other situation, the man turned, caught Luna by the shoulder and elbow, and literally threw her over his head. The shovel dropped from her hands, and she screamed as she went sailing, then hit the ground flat on her back with a resounding thump that could be heard even over the storm.
“Luna.” Joe meant to yell her name, but it emerged as a weak whisper.
She held perfectly still, not even breathing, then her eyes closed on a rasping, broken groan.
Fury roared through Joe, erupting in a shout of primitive outrage.
Cursing, the other man shrugged a satchel off his shoulder and moved to stand over Luna. His muscles were still bunched, his posture aggressive. He started to crouch down.
Joe didn't take a single moment to think. Through messing with Quincy, he did the expedient thing and brought his elbow back in a sharp sweep. Quincy's head snapped back against the shed. He didn't even have time to grunt before he blacked out. Joe let him sink to the muddy ground with no regard for any additional injuries he might sustain.
The man near Luna stood and backed up. “Hey. Easy now, Winston. She's okay, just winded.” He held up both hands. “I'm here to help you.”
“You're fucking dead.”
Exasperation showed on the other man's features, and he growled, “Bruno Caldwell is here, you damn fool.”
Joe kept advancing until he was within range, then he moved so fast that his fist was a blur, striking against the man's jaw. With all the fury Joe possessed behind the blow, the man went sprawling on his assâbut he didn't stay there. He was back up in an instant, shaking his head to clear it, backing up again. Joe smiled in anticipation. At least this guy wouldn't be as easy as Quincy. He'd offer a little challenge.
Luna sat up slowly, holding her head. “Joe?”
“Sit still,” Joe ordered her without taking his eyes off the man. Then, with evil intent, “I'll be done here in a minute.” Judging by the tone of her voice, Luna was no more than dazed, but Joe wasn't willing to risk it.
The other man's expression darkened with anger as he worked his jaw and continued to back up. “I don't want to fight you, Winston.”
Joe laughed, taunting him, wanting him close so he could do more damage. “I'm not giving you a choice.” And Joe swung again, landing a punch in the ribs that bent him double. Just as quickly, Joe brought a knee up and into the man's chin. He collapsed back into the mud, and this time he didn't bounce back.
Braced on the ground, he wiped blood from his mouth and then spit. “Didn't you hear me?” he yelled over the storm. “Bruno is
here.”
“I heard. That's the only reason you're getting my fists instead of my knife. I want some answers.” Joe looked him over. “You working for Bruno, is that it?” Joe kicked out, oblivious to his bad knee, his only cognizant thought of Luna lying on the ground, thrown there by this man. His booted foot landed on a thigh, and the man rolled to the side, cursing in pain.
Luna struggled up to her knees. “Stop it, Joe. Don't hurt him.” She started to rise.
Hobbled by pain, the man shoved himself to his feet and, limping, again faced Joe. “That's it, damn it. I gave you your chance, but it's over. If you're so anxious to let Bruno kill you, thenâ”
A bullet ricocheted off the shed and both Joe and the man moved with incredible speed. The man grabbed his satchel and ducked for cover behind the shed, close to Quincy. Joe threw himself over Luna, shielding her with his body.
Frantically, she pushed against him. “Joe!”
“Stay still,” he ordered.
“My name's Bryan Kelly,” the man shouted in a rush. “I've been hunting Bruno.”
“Why?” Joe crawled right on top of Luna, folding his arms over her head and nearly smothering her shouts of outrage.
“I'm a bounty hunter.” He levered one hip off the ground and dug into his pocket to produce a gold badge that read, “Bail Enforcement Agent.”
Another bullet zipped past, kicking up mud far too close to Joe. He gathered Luna against him and in a crouching run joined the others behind the shed.
Bryan was already stripping off his lined jacket as Joe scrunched down beside him with Luna in his arms. She was shivering, her hair muddy and hanging over her face in clumps, and still she said, “I'm okay.”
As if she hadn't spoken at all, Bryan draped the jacket around her shoulders. “We have to move or we're all dead. Bruno may be a cowardly little creep, but he's toting a tactical rifle, which outshoots my nine-millimeter all the way to hell and back.”
“Unless he's been practicing a lot, Bruno is a sloppy shot. He'll have to get closer if he hopes to hit us.” Joe was busy arranging the jacket around Luna and tucking her arms into the sleeves. “By the way, how the hell do you know all this?”
With the comfortable familiarity of someone well used to firearms, Bryan pulled his own weapon from his waistband and held it in his right hand. “I've been watching you from up on the hill.” He stood, crept to the edge of the shed, and peeked out. A bullet immediately clipped the wood near the shed's roof. “Shit.”
“If you're lying, I'll kill you.”
Bryan glanced down at Joe, saw how he protected Luna with his body, and nodded. “I know you'd try.” Shielding his eyes from the rain, he surveyed the area. “I saw him heading this way, then I saw you wasting time with this other fool.” He paused a moment, rubbed his head in disgust. “I hadn't planned to let anything get in my way this time, not women, not innocent men. But you've got two kids here, and some goddamned remnant of conscience kept gnawing at me until I decided I had to do something.” And then, with a rueful glance at Luna, “I didn't particularly want to see her hurt either.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
Bryan shrugged off Joe's comment. “Bruno is probably moving into position right now. All he has to do is keep shifting until he has us in range. With this damn rain, I can't see a thing.”
Luna groaned again, but Joe had the feeling it was in worry, not pain. He cuddled her, kissed her forehead; then, because he was still pissed over the way Bryan had handled her, he reached out with his left hand and slugged him in the ribs.
Bryan cursed luridly and turned a hot, vicious glare on Joe. “One more, and I swear to Godâ” His gaze landed on Luna. Looking beyond wretched, she rubbed the back of her head and winced. Bryan's predatory eyes suddenly filled with sympathy. “Damn it, I'm sorry,” he bit out. “I wasn't expecting you, and your hair is different . . . I thought you were Amelia or Dinah, and I don't mind telling you I wouldn't feel a second's remorse if one of them got tossed.”
That perked Luna right up, and it was Joe's turn to groan. “Amelia? Dinah?” she asked.