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Tori’s third shot came when he was halfwayacross, her fourth at the three-quarter’s mark, and then he was there!
    Breath rattling in his lungs, he dived behind the bigger boulders that led the way up to where the bastard was hiding, slammed back against the cool stone surface and made himself take the time to reload, even though his heart was slamming with the rhythm of get him, get him, get him!
    Determination gripped him—anger, even. It wasn’t coming just from the drive for justice that was part of the Williams DNA either, wasn’t because of the troubles that had been hammering at Bear Claw and its overworked, understaffed P.D. either. It was bubbling straight up from deep inside him: a raw and atavistic need to make sure nothing happened to Tori.
    Growling low in his throat, he charged up the hill, staying low and moving fast, sacrificing some stealth and cover for speed because he was all too aware that the gunman hadn’t gotten off a shot in nearly a minute.
    He led with his shotgun, swung around the last outcropping—and stopped dead at the sight of an empty, scuffed-up spot where the shooter had been.
    Tori! He shouted the word in his skull but didn’t let it out as he spun in a quick three-sixty, not sure if the guy had gone after her or taken off. Please, let him have taken off.
    There was no sign of the gunman save for the scuff marks leading down, a single line where the guy had retraced his trail and then branched off—straight onto a wide, rocky ledge that didn’t hold any tracks and was headed straight for Tori.
    Pulse thudding in ears that strained for the sound ofgunfire, Jack charged along the ridge of stone, and then crept to within a few boulders of where he’d left Tori, hoping to hell that the silence meant she was hiding, not taken hostage. The last few seconds were the worst, as he got to within a single stone of her position, straining to see if he could detect the sounds of one or two people on the other side. Then, knowing it was better to risk his position than take friendly fire, he called softly, “Tori, it’s Jack. I—”
    A blur came at him from the side. He wheeled with his gun up and ready, then jerked it to the side as his brain registered petite curves and huge brown eyes. There wasn’t time to notice much else before she flung herself against him and hung on tight, all warmth and curves and slightness against him.
    Even as he told himself to detach and go after the guy, his arms closed around her with equal force.
    “You’re okay!” Her words were muffled in his shirt and her body vibrated with tension. “I thought…” As if suddenly realizing what she’d done, she pushed away from him, blushing. “Here, take this.” She shoved the pistol into his free hand, leaving him standing there with a gun in each hand and the imprint of her body on his as she took a couple more steps back, holding her hands out to her sides as if to say “Sorry, don’t know what got into me.”
    And even though he knew the moment had come from fear and relief, part of him was dying to close the gap between them and touch her for real.
    Bad timing, he told himself. And a really, really bad idea. So instead of reaching for her, he safetied and holstered the pistol, then turned away from her to scan the scene. “Did you see him?”
    “He’s gone?”
    “Looks like it.” And sure enough, a quick but thorough search of the immediate area said that the gunman had left. Jack wasn’t willing to bet on how far he’d gone, though, or that he wasn’t coming back with reinforcements, so he turned them back the way they had come, feeling the prickle of unseen—maybe imagined, maybe not—eyes on the back of his neck. “Let’s get out of here.”
    “Hang on.” Tori dug in. “I need my bag.”
    He might have argued—his gut said they had to get out of there fast—but the sudden gleam in her eyes told him that he’d be wasting his time. Besides, it wasn’t much of a detour over to where