Next to him, Skye’s eyes were locked on the TV screen behind the bar. “Can you turn that up?”

The bartender grabbed the remote and raised the volume. The local news was on, or at least as local as it got in Chamaya. Channel 2 News in Santa Fe.

“The body of a woman was found this morning in a ravine off Highway 64, west of Angel Fire. The victim, identified by fingerprints as Stella Marie Walker, was discovered by a hiker at the bottom of a ravine off the Elliot Barker Trail. Animals had apparently dug up the partially buried remains, discovered when the hiker left the trail to take a photo. If you have any information, please contact the Colfax County Sheriff’s Department.”

The department’s number scrolled along the bottom of the screen. As the newscaster began to shuffle a stack of papers, Skye turned to Edge. “Did you hear that, Edge? Stella Marie Walker. That’s her, Edge. Stella Beeker.”

“Yeah, and now she’s dead.” Edge looked hard at Skye. “We can’t wait to go in. Not if we want to get Lila out of there alive.”

The jukebox started playing a country song as Skye slid off the barstool. A big guy with a ball cap covering most of his stringy blond hair walked toward them, blocking their exit. A dirty black T-shirt that read FUCK OFF stretched over his massive chest, and his thighs were the size of tree trunks.

His eyes swept over Skye’s sexy curves. “Wanna dance, sweet thing?”

“Thanks, but we were just leaving.” Skye smiled and tried to brush past him, but the guy caught her arm. “Come on, darlin’. Don’t be that way.” His grip tightened, and he started hauling her back toward the jukebox.

Edge clamped down on a rush of temper, caught a thick-muscled shoulder, and spun the guy around. “The lady said she was leaving. We don’t want trouble. We just need to go.”

The sound of chairs sliding back cut through Willie Nelson singing “Poncho and Lefty.” Three of the big guy’s friends stood up and surged forward, leaving them no escape.

Edge could feel it coming. Like a freight train roaring down the tracks with no way to stop it.

He looked at Skye.

“Let’s make this quick,” she said. “We need to leave.” She cast him a look. “Just don’t kill anyone.”

Edge couldn’t stop a grin.

When the dude with the ball cap and the FUCK OFF T-shirt swung the first punch, Edge ducked and stepped out of the way, letting the guy’s momentum carry him forward, then delivering a kick in the ass that sent him sprawling into a table. His cap went flying. He swore foully and struggled to get back on his feet.