And then Rafe was at her side, hugging her so hard that it hurt. He pulled away, giving her a head-to-toe visual assessment. “Are you okay?”

She could hear him mostly, the ringing in her ears having sufficiently subsided. She nodded. “You?”

“I’m fine.” And then his expression changed from worry to anger. “What were you thinking back there? You got up. You let him try to shoot you. Made yourself a fucking target. What were you thinking?”

“That he wanted me, not you,” she admitted.

Fire flashed in Rafe’s eyes. “Never do that again. Never.”

Mercy nodded but left her true answer unsaid. She would totally do it again, if it made a difference. “What if Ephraim comes back?” she asked. “We’re sitting ducks.” Plus they needed to get help for Erin, André, and Gideon, and somewhere warm for the rest of them. Their clothes were soaked, and everyone was shivering.

Rafe pointed to Gideon, who was talking on the satellite phone he’d taken back from Daisy. “He’s calling for help. Sat phones are the only way to get a signal out here. I should have made sure I had one, too. I won’t make that mistake again. In the meantime, we’ll defend ourselves if he returns. We’ve at least got cover now.”

Gideon joined them, still on the phone, the wound on his hand covered with gauze from the first-aid kit. He muted his end of the conversation and said, “Molina is on her way from Sacramento. She’s sending locals to pick us up and take us into town. Hunter will be here any minute to secure the scene.”

André led Farrah to the Subaru and lowered her into one of the back seats, the knife in his arm making the scene even more surreal. “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he told her before coming to stand with the three of them. “Gideon, tell your boss that the Tahoe is missing its back window and that both passenger windows are pebbled. Your dad must have had run-flat tires installed, because I shot the back right tire but it didn’t slow him down.” He closed his eyes wearily. “I’m out of ammo. If he comes back, we’re toast.”

Gideon told Molina about the damage to the Tahoe that Ephraim had stolen, then ended the call. “The locals aren’t too far out and they’re sending a medic team. Until they get here, I’ve got more ammo for my service weapon and my backup.” He handed the backup to André, then scooped his own gun from the snow. “The medics were told about the knife in your arm. They said the ER docs would remove it, that we shouldn’t touch it.”

André turned his scowl on the knife. “I’ve had worse. I can wait.”

“What happened, André?” Mercy asked.

André sat on one corner of the tailgate. His jaw was tight, perspiration beading on his forehead despite the cold temperature. “We got here as the shooting started. Ephraim was running toward the main road and Farrah was driving so that I could be on watch, just in case, y’know? She pulled your dad’s SUV sideways to block the road. She was afraid he’d killed you. She got out before I could stop her and . . .” He swallowed hard. “Dammit. She and I will have words about this later.”