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Dylan was getting a wee bit tired of dealing with delusional lunatics with guns pointed in her direction. She was starting to think delusional lunatics with guns grew on trees in Masterson County or something.

She stayed on the ground, listening to Quade as he tried to reason with a lunatic she had never seen before. Who had a gun pointed at her .

There were at least six men surrounding them. She recognized Quade, of course. And Hot Guy Martin was there, a rifle in his hands, looking beyond hot and dangerous and everything now. Darcey was seriously missing out on all that hotness.

Ben was there too, of course. She had suspected he would be her cranky cowboy’s sidekick for this rescue mission and everything. Right next to Quade was Clint, the guy who was married to Fletcher’s cousin Maggie. He was the man in charge right now. She’d known he’d been a cop with the Wyoming Highway Patrol before this. Marin had complained about Clint’s bestie Rex, commander of the WHP, many, many times before. Dylan thought it was because Marin had a thing for Rex but wouldn’t admit it.

These were people she knew, people she trusted.

But she was still the one with a gun pointed at her and everything.

She just wanted to go home right now. To Fletcher.

Dylan looked up at a movement behind this guy.

Into a beautiful cranky cowboy face she would always love. Forever.

She sucked in a breath. Dylan forced herself to pull her legs up. She used her good hand to balance, almost on her knees.

And waited.

For just the right moment.

That moment came when strong hands reached for her once more.

To pull her out of the way.

Fletcher wrapped himself around her—and rolled.

Down the hill, toward the edge of the drive of this old place she never wanted to be at again.

His arms were around her, and they were rolling.

Dylan just hung on for the ride.

As gunshots erupted above them.