Brock and Shetland shot for the west side, darting to meet him around the end.

I held back. This didn’t seem right. If he knew to switch the truck, switch the plates, sneak out of his patio door, then it would make sense that he’d know his house was surrounded. Unless…just as I realized what was happening, the garage door behind me burst open.

A body shot out, barreling into me.

Pain slammed through me, slicing everywhere.

I hit the sidewalk pavement, and my hand was embedded in shrubbery.

Feeling my skin being pierced all over, I growled. No! That was my first thought as I looked up and saw the guy look down at me. It was the bail jumper. He was a big fucker, and no way was he getting away that easily.

Just then, I heard shouting from the distance. Vehicles were screeching to a halt somewhere, but I was focused only on this guy. He paused, staring at me.

In that moment, it was him and me, and he saw me. He saw my fight. He saw my anger.

His eyes flared, too. He wanted to hurt me, and his knee jerked up. But he caught himself. He was going to kick me or squash me with his foot, one or the other, but I was already getting to my feet and running after him.

He tore out of there, heading past his truck because he was blocked in by another vehicle.

I knew that vehicle. Recognition flared in the back of my head, and I knew who had just joined our fight. My brother and Moose were jumping out of their truck. Moose was heading to block the guy. Channing was behind him. They were going to trap him, and then someone else would take him down.

No. No. No.

This guy was mine—and I screamed as Moose started to lift his arm up to knock the guy down, “NO!”

Moose paused, seeing me hurtling after him, and he moved aside.

The stall helped. I saw it all in a split second, and my plan was already laid out in my mind.

The guy was tearing past Channing, tearing past Moose. He was heading for the street, and he was going to try getting away on foot, but he heard my scream. He saw Moose and he paused, too.

It was just enough.

I threw myself at him, pushing off the street with everything in me. I wrapped around his knees, tripping the guy. As he fell, I was already climbing up him, grabbing his arm, twisting my body around his neck, and as my back hit the road, I yanked as hard as I could. My legs wound around his neck and I had him trapped in place. If he pushed anywhere, he would dislocate his own shoulder. That pain alone usually helped keep people in place, and he was no different.