The man with the comb circled Barrett like a jungle cat. Coming around to the front, he slammed his fist into Barrett’s stomach. A moan of pain shot through Barrett’s clenched teeth. Kat’s fingers dug into the dry earth to keep from rushing out and clawing the hateful soldiers to death.
Drawing a knife from his belt, the black-haired man ran his thumb across the tip to prick a drop of blood. With a rotting grin, he held the knife to Barrett’s throat. Barrett’s strong pulse throbbed against the blade as his breath hissed out between his busted lips.
Though he spoke in German, his meaning was clear enough as he ran the tip of his knife down Barrett’s front, ripping off the buttons with a flick of his wrist. He parted back the halves of Barrett’s shirt to reveal a muscled chest and flat stomach that sucked in and out with labored breaths. The soldier traced a line from Barrett’s exposed collarbone diagonally across the hard chest and planes of his stomach. A thin red line seeped up.
Kat’s heart drowned in agony. She clamped a hand to her mouth to keep the pitiful sounds from lurching out. He’d sent her on to keep them safe, and now, with his life’s blood trickling down his battered body, he refused to give them up. Everything he had done was to keep them safe, and now he’d strung himself up a tree to get her to safety. She bit down on the inside of her palm as a sob clawed up her throat. Oh, Barrett. She’d been so terribly, terribly wrong about him so many times. Why had it taken seeing him stripped bare and beaten for her to finally admit the truth to herself? The truth that her heart was being killed before her very eyes and she had to get him down before she lost it forever.
The copper-haired man hunkered by the fire slowly turned a long piece of metal over the greedy orange flames. A bayonet. Next to him on the ground lay a rifle.
Sickness hurtled up Kat’s throat. She clamped her lips closed. Not now. Later, much later, when she could recount the foolishness she was about to throw herself into. Grabbing a sharp rock that wedged itself between the tree roots, she hefted it in her hand. It would do.
Crouching along the perimeter, she stopped just behind the copper-haired man to block the other two and Barrett from sight. As quietly as she could, she slipped through the bushes and ducked directly behind her target. Air pinching tight in her lungs, she raised her hand and brought the rock down into the back of his head with a solid smack. He crumpled over oozing dark blood from the back of his skull.
The bayonet clanged into the burning wood, shooting sparks up. The other two soldiers whipped around as Barrett’s head lolled to the side. More blood spilled from his nose to splatter across his bare chest.
The dark-haired man’s lip curled up like a wolf’s as he saw Kat. Lust, hot and vicious, sizzled in his dark eyes. He brushed the comb over his palm. “Die wir hier haven?”
His question slithered around Kat’s neck, threatening to choke off her breath. “Français. I speak French.”
The soldier’s eyes roved over her body like a starving man seeing steak for the first time. “I speak French enough you obeying when tell you what want.”
The snaking words spoken in horrible French squeezed tighter. Dots danced before her eyes. “Last chance.”
He stepped toward her, rubbing the comb against his thigh. “Give you one chance push skirt down.”
“I’ll kill you if you touch her!” The rope jerked against Barrett’s hands, strangling the words from him. The vein in his neck pulsed wildly as red burned up his chest and face.
Kat locked eyes with him. The expression she found there stole the sickness and pulverized it into fury. She dropped to her knee and grabbed the rifle. Praying to God it held bullets, she squeezed the trigger.
Bam!
The greasy-haired man fell back clutching a gaping hole blown into his shoulder, howling obscenities.
His comrade dropped the rope, sending Barrett crashing to his feet. In a flash, he whipped a knife to Barrett’s exposed throat and shouted in German.
The gun shook in Kat’s hands. Her eyes skittered to Barrett’s. White-hot rage burned in his eyes. Shoot him.
“Nein, nein, meine lieben.” The knife nicked into the side of Barrett’s neck, splatting red onto his torn