through in a pinch.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” James pleaded as she cut him loose. “I didn’t know.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now.”
Her adrenaline thundering through her body, Shea sawed through the last of the rope, pulling James free. She shoved a knife in his hand and pushed him towards Cam.
“Get Cam loose.”
He stumbled, nearly dropping the knife before reaching over Cam to work at the ropes.
Shea drew another knife and went to work on the nearest stranger’s hands. She flinched each time Dane picked off another villager but kept at the rope.
“Powerful weapon, that,” the whiskey-eyed stranger observed.
Shea grunted in agreement as he pulled free and moved on to the next man.
“Shea,” James shouted. “Come on. We have to go.”
She cast a glance around as she sawed. Horses had reached the square and were now stampeding past them, shaking the platform as they rushed by. Where did he think they could go?
“Thanks,” the last man said rubbing his wrists. “We’re in your debt.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to escape this gods be damned, shithole of a village.”
How exactly they were supposed to do that, she hadn’t worked out. Yet.
“What do we do?” James said in panic as he hobbled up to her. With Cam’s arm slung over his shoulder, James was supporting most of the man’s weight.
Horses still raced past them, but the herd was thinning. Shea didn’t know how Witt managed to get so many to stampede, but as a distraction, it worked amazingly well. The only problem was that now they couldn’t get off the platform without risking being trampled. Soon that wouldn’t be a problem, but the villagers who had sought shelter in the neighboring buildings were already poised at their doors, ready to recapture the men she’d just released.
One of the strangers tapped her on the shoulder. “Is he with you?”
Shea squinted at where he pointed.
Was that Witt at the rear of the herd, driving a wagon?
Yes.
She couldn’t believe it, but it was.
As she watched, Dane swung down from his roof, to a shorter building before leaping into the wagon bed and climbing onto the front seat next to Witt.
She grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder.
“Prepare to jump.”
“In there?” James asked, wild eyed. “While it’s still moving?”
“It’s not like they can stop and wait until we get comfortable.”
“They’ll slow down, right?”
Shea ignored the question, instead stepping up to the edge of the platform and gesturing for the rest to join her.
“Jump right before the wagon reaches you,” the man she’d freed said.
James and Cam balked. Shea shoved them into place. There wasn’t time for fear. They needed action, not doubt. The stranger with the whiskey-colored eyes tugged Cam’s arm from James while his friend put Cam’s other arm over his shoulder, sandwiching Cam between them.
“Shea, this is madness. We can’t make that jump,” James hissed at her.
She took him by the arm. The wagon was seconds away, Witt’s face focused and determined as he barreled down on them.
Shea looked James in the eye. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
She shoved him off the platform, forcing him to jump or fall to his death. Shea followed right as the wagon scraped by, knocking against the structure in the process. The strangers and Cam leapt at the same time, making the jump easily. James landed awkwardly on his side, safely in the wagon’s bed. Shea fell on top of him, her knee landing squarely on his stomach, nearly catapulting her off the other side in the process. The whiskey-eyed stranger grabbed her by the back of the shirt and hauled her back in before she could dive headfirst into the ground. He dumped her in the bottom next to the others.
“Thanks,” she said, patting him on the arm. The ground raced by. She didn’t think she would have survived the landing. “Guess I owe you one now.”
A slight smile partially thawed his granite expression. “Just returning the favor.”
His eyes seemed capable of staring right through a person, sizing them up in moments and learning all their secrets in the process.
Shoulder length brown hair framed a sharp featured face possessing rigidly defined cheekbones and jaw. Everything about him screamed strength. From his nose, to his mouth, to the way he held himself. He was over a head taller than Shea, who wasn’t exactly short. His hands, where they held her arms, were calloused and rough-hewn. There was a small scar, almost unnoticeable unless one was as close to him as Shea