Yes.
He ducked, then slipped into the darkness, behind a tree. Mars picked up another rock, searched the darkness.
Jericho crept through the woods, painfully aware of his own buffalo sounds. But the wind seemed to wake up too, and it screamed around him. And in that moment, he rushed out of cover and launched himself at Mars.
Grabbing him around the waist, they slammed together onto the ridge, the rocks jutting up through the snow. Mars hit his head, and blood darkened the glaze of moonlight, but he still had a rock and—
The blow hit Jericho on the side of his head, night slicing through his vision, pain shattering through his brain.
He rolled off, the world spinning.
Get up.
His own voice, shouting at him, but he couldn’t seem to feel his feet, his hands. He blinked hard, the world in waves.
Mars rose above him. He held the same rock—not large but big enough to crack his skull.
Leave him bleeding out in the snow.
The man raised the rock over his head as Jericho tried to roll away—
The gunshot came from behind them, exploded through thenight, and jerked Mars back. Jericho expected him to fall, but he only staggered.
And that was enough.
Jericho rolled onto his knee and threw out a kick that landed in Mars’s gut.
Off-balance, Mars stumbled back.
And fell.
Right into the ravine some twenty feet down.
The former grizzly den that Sully had once found.
Jericho scrambled over to the edge. Mars lay at the bottom, alive, but shouting, his leg at a wild, broken angle.
Jericho stood over him, breathing hard.
Steps behind him, crashing through the snow, heavy breathing. He turned and barely caught Harley before she pitched over the edge.
“Did I get him?” she asked.
“Close enough.” He pulled her back from the edge. “You were supposed to run.”
“Ididrun! I got into cell range, called Deke, grabbed my gun, and then I came back.” She smiled. “You didn’t think I’d leave you out there to fight Mars by yourself, did you?”
No. Because that’s how it had always been. Them, together.
“Where you go, we go,” she said, gripping his lapels now. Then she lifted herself up and kissed him. And it made a crazy backdrop—Mars shouting in the gully below, the wind roaring around them, and even Orlando barking in the distance. But maybe that’s how it would always be with Harley. Chaos, impulse, all kinds of trouble.
He was built for this.
So he kissed her back, his hand around her neck, holding her there. Steady. No running. All in.
He finally lifted his head. “Are you okay?”
She nodded.