Even though South had been the one talking, and shot, North was my top priority.

By the time I saw the fancy SUV fly down the dirt drive, I had shit pulled together and was ready.

South pulled up out front and I went to the passenger door and tugged it open. I was instantly wet from the rain, but I didn’t give a shit. Reaching in, I unclipped North’s seatbelt and pulled her from the car. She opened the back door and Eddie hopped out. With my gun in one hand and holding hers with the other, I pulled her inside, Eddie following. No way a shooter could know where South headed, follow and get into position to shoot again.

South slammed the front door shut behind him, leaned against it. His breathing was ragged. I scanned him and saw the blood oozing down his arm. If he said it was a scratch, I believed him.

My dog, Boozer, came in and checked everyone out. He and Eddie circled each other and wagged their tails. Instant friends.

I ignored them and looked at North, then ran my hands over her. She was in sky high stilts and another one of her dresses that probably cost more than my pickup truck. It was sexy as fuck and reminded me of how feminine she was. While she might be able to shoot like Annie Oakley, she needed to be treated like a precious piece of glass. Deserved it.

“You okay?” I asked when I was finally satisfied she had no bullet holes. I cupped her cheeks, leaned down and met her gaze.

Her pupils were blown, but she was calm. Her hair was damp, her skin dotted with rain drops. Her nipples poked against the dark silk.

She winced when my fingers pressed into her scalp.

“I whacked my head on the window,” she admitted.

I felt a little goose egg with my fingertips.

“Got a first aid kit?” South asked.

“Kitchen table,” I replied, not looking away.

I heard South cut across the living room, the dogs following.

“Time to go, princess.”

She frowned. “Go?”

I nodded. “Gotta get you somewhere safe until we know what the fuck is going on.”

I had a cabin up in the hills no one knew about. She’d be safe there.

She shook her head, stepped back. I let her go. She turned and went into the kitchen. I followed.

South was shrugging out of his shirt. I saw the thin slice a bullet made across his deltoid. It must hurt like a bitch and would ooze blood unless bandaged. He’d probably need a few stitches and a course of antibiotics, but he’d be fine, and have a nice scar to remember the event.

“Oh my God,” North said, digging her shaky hands into the kit to look for something. I had a feeling she didn’t even know what.