Gone to Her Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 2) by Melinda Leigh Page A

her chest as Darren half-dragged her through the muddy weeds toward the forest. Rain drenched her in seconds, plastering her hair to her head.
    She could not go with him. He would kill her.
    She gathered her breath and tried to scream, but her vocal cords wouldn’t function in her dry throat. Darren paused to whirl and open-hand her across the face. Pain burst red-hot through her cheek.
    But delivering the blow slowed his pace—and loosened his grip on her bicep. Before he had a chance to adjust his hold, Carly dropped her weight to the ground. Her butt hit the mud with a cold splash. He leaned down, his beefy face twisted in fury, his size dwarfing her.
    She spun on her back and put her feet between them. He lunged forward, and she struck out, kicking his kneecap.
    “You fucking bitch!” The downpour muffled his scream. He reached over her body again.
    Carly rocked back, pulled her knee to her chest, and shot her heel up into his face. Her kick connected with his jaw, knocking him backward. The Beretta fell out of his pocket as he stumbled backward a step. He regained his balance in an instant and whipped his own handgun around. Carly rolled, snatching up the Beretta. She fumbled with the weapon one-handed. Her left arm refused to obey her commands. It hung from her body, useless and oddly disjointed. She gripped the gun and brought it around.
    Too late.
    Darren kicked it out of her hand. His body loomed over her body, his gun arcing toward her head. A cruel smile twisted his features as he pointed the weapon at her face.
    A flying body hit him in the midsection. Darren went over on his back. Seth landed on top of him.
    Carly skittered back. She searched the ground for a gun. Either gun. There! She spotted the Beretta in a clump of crabgrass. She rolled to her knees and lurched toward the weapon. Snatching it up, she turned and pointed it at the dark figures on the ground.
    A flashlight beam fell across the struggling men.
    But it was obvious Seth didn’t need the help. He straddled Darren’s chest and pummeled him in the face with an elbow. It wasn’t the first blow. Blood poured from Darren’s nose and a cut above his eyebrow. His left eye looked like raw meat.
    “We got him covered, Seth!” Two deputies were pointing guns at Darren. One circled around to cover Darren from a different angle.
    Seth stopped, one arm still raised to deliver another strike. Panting, he levered his body off the man. A deputy rolled Darren onto his face and cuffed his hands behind his back.
    Carly lowered the gun in her hand. Her body began to shake. The numbness faded as the adrenaline began to wear off. Pain bloomed fresh in her shoulder and rolled through her bones like thunder. Dizziness followed. Seth took the gun and pulled her to his chest just as her knees went out from under her. He scooped her into his arms. Body heat seeped through the soaked cotton of his T-shirt. Carly rested her face against his chest and let the blackness take over.

    “How is she?”
    Icing his battered knuckles, Seth looked up as Zane dropped into the chair next to him in a quiet corner of the ER waiting room.
    “She’s all right. Just a dislocated shoulder. They just sedated her to put it back in place. She should be out of here in a couple of hours.” Seth rubbed the back of his head.
    Zane set a bag on Seth’s lap. “Dry clothes.”
    “Much appreciated.” Seth’s T-shirt and shorts hadn’t fully dried in the hours he’d been waiting.
    “How about everyone else?”
    “Tammy Fisher has a broken elbow. The girls weren’t injured. Not physically, anyway.”
    “Anything broken?” Zane nodded toward Seth’s hands.
    “No.” But his knuckles were beat to shit.
    “Darren looks worse,” Zane said.
    “Good. Then it was worth every bruise.” Seth shifted his ice pack. “Any sign of drugs at Darren’s place?”
    Zane shook his head. “Nothing. We searched the house and outbuildings and came up empty.”
    “Damn it. Who is dealing that