“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Came to get my mate out of here.” Kissing her temple, he grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the French doors. “Let’s go.”
Daria hurried to match his stride as he hauled her out into the morning. He skirted the back of the house, making his way to the most secluded area of the compound, then stopped. Standing still, he listened for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. The morning had lightened enough that she could make out his profile and the concerned frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
He held up a hand to shush her. One minute crept by. Two. Daria began to grow impatient and started to tell him so, but he interrupted in the barest whisper.
“What do you see? Hear?”
“Nothing. Why—”
“Shh.”
Complete silence. Even the forest ahead, which should have been coming to noisy life with the chatter of birds, stood mute as if someone had flipped an off switch.
“Ambush,” he breathed, palming his pistol. “Run.”
The import of his words hardly had time to register when all hell broke loose. Ryon yanked her around the corner of the house, setting off at a dead run with her in tow as dozens of men with rifles materialized from behind the wall they would’ve scaled. Shouting and cursing, August’s security force opened fire.
Long legs pumping, he ran full out, never letting go of her wrist. Daria stumbled, heart in her throat, as more of August’s goons rounded the opposite side of the house to intercept them. He veered off and cut through the gardens, using the lush greenery as a cover of sorts from the bullets pelting around them.
Panic washed over her. She and her mate possessed special abilities, but even they would stand little chance against dozens of bullets. How had August learned they were here? For now they were forced to abort their mission. But if they survived this crazy scenario, she’d find a way for them to double back and finish what they’d come for.
Ryon hesitated, scanning the wide expanse of cultivated lawn in front of the estate. Surely he didn’t mean to do what it appeared.
He did. The man sprinted across the yard, heading straight for the imposing iron gates at the end of the lawn. Beyond that was nothing but forest. They couldn’t have been more exposed if they’d posted targets on their backs, and there was no time to liberate a copter from her uncle.
They skidded to a halt at the gates next to the keypad, and he thrust her toward the panel.
“Do you know the code?”
Men streamed around the house, rifles poised, closing the gap.
“Dad gave it to me, but there’s not enough time—”
“The code, Daria!”
Daria punched in the numbers as he dropped to a crouch, tucking the pistol in his waistband and whipping the M16 off his back. So many of them. It struck her as pathetic, one lone man against August’s force. Like an ant biting an elephant.
Her mate fired several rounds and they responded in kind. She hit the ground with him, praying as the pop and groan of the mechanism began to swing open the gates. Tiny puffs of dirt kicked up by gunfire came much too close.
“Go! Go!”
Daria shot to her feet and slapped the button to close the gates again, then he hurled her toward the opening. The gates began to reverse direction, and he just managed to slide through after her before they clanged shut.
Clasping her hand, he dragged her through the dense forest, changing directions several times. Once, he halted at the base of a tree, grabbing a heavy backpack he’d left hidden close to the estate. He shrugged it over his shoulders without missing a beat. His pace never faltered, save when the thick undergrowth hampered their progress. Eventually the yells of August’s goons faded and disappeared. She’d always stayed in good physical condition, but she thought her lungs might explode if he didn’t slow down.
No matter. She’d die before asking him for any favors because she’d practically forced him to allow her to come. He might’ve read her mind. Where the foliage gave way to a tiny clearing, he stopped and turned to face her, his broad chest heaving.
Sweet Jesus. He affected her like this every time.
Her mate was a sexy beast. Camouflage pants hugged his long thighs and a matching T-shirt with the sleeves cut out displayed the ropy muscles in his arms. Tousled blond hair fell into his blue eyes. He stood with his booted feet planted apart, his gaze like twin lasers raking her in kind. Two hundred pounds of powerful male.
All mine.
Yes, yours, he agreed. His sculpted lips turned upward in his handsome, angular face. A mocking smile, rife with challenge.
Then the reality of their tenuous situation intruded. “That was an epic fucking fail,” she groused. “August knew we were coming, or discovered our presence after we arrived. Now what?”
“We retreat, have the team pick us up. We’ll have to figure out some other way to get what we need.” His face, however, reflected bitter disappointment.
“Absolutely not. We can’t give up now.”
Ryon studied his mate’s reaction with fascination. Whether she knew it or not, her whiskey brown eyes were windows straight to her soul. They brimmed with righteous indignation, and no small amount of fear. She looked so lost standing there, so disconsolate, as though she took their failure personally. The idea didn’t sit well.
“We did the best we could.”
“That’s not good enough.”
She stood, fists clenched, holding his gaze. Clearly she hated backing down.
“I’m proud to have such a brave mate,” he murmured, curling a hand under her chin. “But it’s not worth the risk.”
“Yes, it is!” Angry, she jerked from his grasp. “Ben is worth the risk! He’s a good man who doesn’t deserve what they did to him!”
His gut churned. Ben again. Always that goddamned Ben Cantrell, standing smack between him and his mate.
Did the man have any idea of the gift he’d so carelessly lost? Her long raven hair was pulled back into a serviceable ponytail and hung halfway down her back. Her large brown eyes were set in a face that would put any angel from heaven to shame. Tiny laugh lines at the corners of her lips evidenced a passionate woman who often found much joy in her world. The coldness in her stare right now made him loathe the argument that had recently wounded it.
“You know, Ben is part of your past,” he said stiffly, striving to keep the hurt and jealousy out of his voice. And failing. “Keep looking into the past and your future just might pass you by. Didn’t someone say something similar to me recently?”
She stilled. “You’re going to throw that in my face now?”
“Maybe you should figure out once and for all what it is you want, that’s all. Let’s go.”
God, this was going to be a long hike. He could feel Daria glaring holes in his back.
Arrogant jackass!
“What did you say?” he called over his shoulder.
“Nothing.” He could practically hear her grit her teeth in annoyance.
No. He wouldn’t let her anger get to him. Better that she was mad at him than to have her uncle’s men catch up with them.
“How far do we have to walk? I assume you’ll do your Telepath thing and have the team pick us up?”
“Eventually. We’re off the route we took coming in. From the map, we’ve got thirty miles to go, give or take.”
Daria’s protest was swift. “Thirty miles? That’s sheer lunacy!”
“What other option do we have? Our wolf forms could handle the trip better, but we have to forgo that because we need our supplies. Besides, you’re fit,” he pointed out. “You spend half your year in the Shoshone doing research.”