His focus lowered to her legs. “You are injured and barefoot.”

“I’ll be fine right after I wrap this up to stop the bleeding and I can use part of this sarong to wrap my feet.” It sounded so good, she hoped she’d be able to really do that part of the plan. “Riding on your back doesn’t agree with my stomach.”

She noticed when some of the stiffness eased from his frame. He bought her bullshit. His gaze lifted. “And you won’t lie about me if I take you there your way?”

“Nope.” She had no intention of going anywhere with him. “I give you my word as a Filmore.” Her grandfather was a lying bastard who’d told Bat he was dying to get them to Alaska. She wasn’t a Filmore. She was a Dawson. Her father had been a good man. Decker Filmore could never claim that honor. “I’ll behave, and look on the bright side. Carrying me probably wasn’t fun for you either. That belt was cutting me in half and it was against your stomach.”

“True.” The anger faded from his features. “You may come out of there. I won’t attack you.”

I don’t feel the same, she silently warned him. “Sure. I don’t suppose you could turn your back though so I can pee in private? That motion of you running and the squeezing from that contraption holding me against you didn’t do my bladder any favors.” She inched closer, overstated her limp to make him think he’d hurt her more than he had.

The guy nodded. “Do it there. You will not leave my sight.”

Ignoring him, she squeezed between the trees. “It’s too cramped in there.”

She flung the dirt when mere feet separated them.

It hit his face before he could react, totally unprepared for the attack. He jerked his head back to claw at his eyes with his hands.

She took advantage of his blindness in those critical seconds. She swung her other arm as hard as she could manage with her remaining strength.

It hurt her wrist when the rock connected with the side of his head but it must have been effective, considering he dropped to his knees with a cry of pain.

She drew her arm back and hit him again. This time he slumped to the ground.

Dusti hesitated, watching him. He seemed lifeless except for the rise and fall of his chest. Her gaze avoided the bloody gash to the side of his head. She’d puke if she looked at it too closely or acknowledged her hand was wet from his blood.

Seconds ticked by. He was breathing but seemed knocked out. She kept hold of the rock and turned, moving as fast as her injured leg would allow in the direction he must have carried her. The dirt path was the only thing she knew to follow. She hoped that someone from Drantos’s clan was looking for her and found her before the guy woke up with a headache from hell.

The pain in her leg grew worse with each step but she kept going. She didn’t have time to really bind her leg until she felt safe. That wasn’t going to be anytime soon. A little blood loss was a lot better than being recaptured. Craig would be furious and he’d strap her to his body again.

She ran when she was able to find flatter ground. The sun would go down at some point. It was scary, since she’d eventually lose sight of the path, but every step took her farther away from Craig and everyone associated with him. She’d already been lost at night in the woods once but she wasn’t soaking wet this time. It would have to be better than before.

A roar tore through the woods a short time later. She turned her head, her gaze searching for any sign of pursuit. Nothing moved except the trees from the wind. Her labored breathing hindered her, along with her limp. She strained to hear a river or perhaps vehicle traffic. If she could stumble into a highway, if one existed in this remote area, it may save her. The icy river water would even be a welcome sight. Its strong current would wash her downstream and perhaps lose the asshole who she knew had to have already started tracking her. He’d obviously recovered from the blows to his head if that was him screaming out his rage.

A howl tore through the woods next, much closer, and she came to a stop when she realized she wouldn’t be able to outrun him. She turned to wait for Craig to come after her again. He wouldn’t dare kill her but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to put some serious hurt on her for what she’d done to him with the surprise attack. She swept the ground with her gaze in a desperate search for anything she could use as a more effective weapon than her rock.

A thump behind her left her heart in her throat. The distinctive sound of something falling hard onto dirt couldn’t be mistaken. She could sense eyes on the back of her head as though something physically touched her.

He’d found her, somehow had dropped from above, had probably used the trees to sneak up on her.

She started to turn around, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. She had to confront him.

“I know you’re angry but if you hurt me, my grandfa—”

Shock silenced her.

It wasn’t the guy she’d struck with a rock standing mere feet from her. This one stood much taller, maybe six feet five or six, had short black hair cropped close to his head, from the little of she could see peeking out under his black hood. Her eyes widened as they examined his bare, expansive chest made of deeply tanned skin, and finally reached the handsome face of a man with intense eyes that were an unusually bright blue.

They mesmerized her—until a loud roar coming from close behind jerked her from her stupor.

The guy opened his mouth, revealing white, perfect teeth with elongated fangs on both sides. He glared at something over her head. “Back away from the woman.”

His voice sent chills down her spine. It rumbled with each word as if he spoke from the bottom of a pit. The tone of his command terrified her. This wasn’t a guy anyone sane would argue with.

She turned her head in time to see the guy she’d bashed with the rock instantly backing up about ten feet. Blood coated the side of Craig’s face, running down his neck and chest from the injuries he’d suffered. He lowered his head in submission and his body followed when he dropped to his knees.

“Of course.”

Dusti turned her focus back on the very tall man who wore a strange hooded black duster that was open in front. It had short sleeves, revealing muscular biceps. She raked her gaze up and down him. He wore black leather pants with silver bands over muscular thighs. His heavy-duty boots reminded her of military-issue ones. Leather encased his skin from wrist to just under the elbow, with more silver strips attached to the armguards, each sporting small, sharp-looking spikes. If she wasn’t mistaken, they were a form of weapon that looked as if they could do serious damage if he struck someone.