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“You’re awake.” He noticed me trying to sit up. “Good. We need to talk.”

“Pretty sure you already said everything when you hit me. And I have nothing else to say to you.”

“That was… I didn’t mean to do that.” He kept pacing, movements jerky and unfocused. “You made me angry. You always make me angry.”

Classic Garrett. Even now, it was my fault he’d kidnapped me. I shifted carefully, testing for serious damage. Everything hurt but nothing felt broken. Time. I needed time. Tyson had heard the call, he’d gotten my location.

He’s coming.

“Where are we?” I kept my voice calm, steady.

“Outside town. Needed somewhere private to think.”

“Kidnapping tends to impair critical thinking skills.”

He whirled on me. “This isn’t kidnapping! You’re my wife!”

“When the hell are you going to finally accept the truth? You signed the divorce, asshole! I’m nothing to you. Well. I’m currently victim of assault.” I touched my split lip, showed him the blood. “That’s what, five to ten years?”

“Shut up. Just shut up and let me think.”

But I knew Garrett. Knew his ego couldn’t resist engagement. “Think about what? Your next brilliant move? Because attacking me in broad daylight was genius.”

“I said shut up!”

“Or what?”

He stopped pacing, stared at me. “Why couldn’t you just forgive me? Other wives forgive affairs all the time.”

“I’m not other wives. You should’ve known that.” I laughed. Blood on my teeth, dirt in my hair, probable concussion, and I laughed at this pathetic excuse for a man.

“Stop laughing!” He started toward me, then froze. A muffled sound came from somewhere. Electronic.

Fuck. It was my phone, still in my bra where I’d shoved it. His face went purple as he yanked it out, saw the active distress signal.

“You fucking bitch.” He held up the phone, showing Tyson’s name and the call timer running. “You planned this. You set me up.”

“I called for help while you were assaulting me. How devious of me.”

“This is entrapment!”

“That’s not what entrapment means, you absolute moron.”

He threw the phone hard against a tree. It shattered, but the damage was done. “I’ll say you attacked me first. You came at me, I defended myself…”

“Please. No one will believe that. You’re done.”

He opened his mouth, his face turning into a raging expression, but a sound interrupted the stupid things he was about to spill out. We both heard it. It was a truck engine, running too fast for these roads. Brakes squealing. A door slamming hard enough to echo.

Relief filled my entire body as Tyson came through the trees at a dead run. Not carefully, not quietly. He burst through the undergrowth, saw me on the ground with Garrett standing over me, and the sound he made wasn’t human.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WOMAN.”

Garrett turned to him and started to speak. Again, he didn’t get one word out. Tyson’s fist connected with his jaw, and my stupid ex went down hard. Way too soon, he scrambled back up, swinging wild. They collided, trading hits, but Garrett was soft where Tyson was solid. Garrett threw tantrums at board meetings. Tyson threw hay bales and built houses.

It wasn’t a long fight.

The final punch snapped Garrett’s head back. He hit the ground and stayed there, groaning but not getting up. Tyson didn’t hit him again. He turned to me, dropped to his knees, hands immediately on my face.