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“I’m okay. My wrist hurts, and I scraped my hands, but I’m okay.” I reached up to touch his face, wincing at the blood. “You’re the one who’s hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding everywhere.”

“Doesn’t matter.” His thumbs brushed across my cheekbones, his eyes searching mine. “All that matters is you’re safe.”

“Lane—”

“I would do it again,” he said fiercely. “Every punch, every hit—I would take it all again if it meant keeping you safe. Do you understand? I will always put myself between you and anyone who wants to hurt you.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “You could have been really hurt.”

“But I wasn’t. And neither were you, not seriously.” He pulled me carefully against his chest, mindful of my injured wrist. “It’s over, Jo. Blake’s going away for a long time. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Thanks to Walker,” I said, looking over Lane’s shoulder to where the mountain man stood talking quietly with Sara, giving his statement.

Lane pulled back and followed my gaze, a twinkle in his own eyes. “Yeah. Thanks to Walker. And Grudge. That dog was more than happy to put Blake in his place.”

Chapter 13

Lane

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the paramedics had checked us both over. Jo’s wrist was sprained but not broken, they thought my lip needed a couple of stitches, and we were both going to be sporting some impressive bruises. Blake, on the other hand, had a broken right wrist and needed stitches in his arm and leg. They were transporting him to the hospital now, under guard.

I finally got a chance to properly thank the man who’d saved our asses.

Walker Jones stood by his truck, arms crossed, watching the scene with the kind of alert calm that came from years of military training. Grudge leaned out the window, his eyes following everything. Walker looked uncomfortable with the activity, his jaw tight, his eyes constantly scanning for threats that weren’t there anymore. I didn’t know much about the guy, only that he’d shown up a couple of years ago and settled on Sterling Mountain. I knew his name because he’d come in to get his concealed carry certification, but I hadn’t had the chance to really get to know him.

The gossip network said he’d served in the Army Rangers. And that he’d retired with his wounded K9.

I hadn’t seen anything wrong with the dog, or how he’d apprehended Blake.

“Walker,” I said, approaching slowly. “Thank you. For jumping in back there.”

He shrugged, but there was tension in his shoulders. “You looked like you could use the help.”

“I definitely could.” I held out my hand. “Though you already knew that. Lane Daniels.”

Walker shook my hand, his grip firm. “Yeah, I knew. You did good for a while, Daniels, but I think he has a few pounds on you.”

“Didn’t seem to bother the dog, though,” I laughed.

Walker glanced at the dog, who had finally laid down on the bench seat of the truck. Now I could see he had a prosthetic rear leg.

“I think he was excited to actually do something other than chase squirrels.”

“How’s Sterling Mountain? That old cabin fall in yet?”

Walker barked out a laugh. “Not yet.” His eyes flicked back to where Jo was sitting on the bumper of Sara’s cruiser, an ice pack on her wrist. “Your lady gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Sprained wrist, some scrapes. She’ll heal.” I followed his gaze. “Thanks for helping her. For helping both of us.”

Walker shrugged my thanks away. “That guy was out of control. Couldn’t just stand by and watch.”

There was something in his voice—a roughness that suggested he’d seen too much violence, internalized too much of it.