Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(100)

Panic raced through Lily. If Maggie got hold of her again, she wouldn’t let her go. She’d haul her back to that dark closet and lock her in there for good. She’d be as good as dead too.

Oh, God, her heart cried. She’d tried to trust Him throughout the awful evening. Could she keep trusting that He’d work out His plans for her?

She glanced across the room to Connell, to the haggard fear that crisscrossed his face. He’d come to save her. He’d risked his life for her. Again.

But he’d done everything he could. Was anything more possible?

As if sensing her question, he slipped his hand underneath his shirt. His fingers came back empty. His gaze darted to her hand, to his knife.

She clutched it, wishing she could toss it across the room to him.

First fear, then desperation flashed over his features. He glanced around as if looking for something he could use to stop Carr from taking her away. His focus landed on the sharp blade of the knife his foreman had drawn.

Connell nodded at the boss and then at the knife, indicating that the man should toss it to him. The foreman lifted his brow. And Lily was sure he was thinking the same thing she was—how could he toss Connell the knife without being seen and putting Lily in more jeopardy?

“You’re all big fools for interfering with my business,” Carr called. His arm around her waist was as tight as a chain.

She fought against his hold, but he only jammed the pistol until the pressure made her dizzy with pain.

The knife burned in her hand, turning her palm sweaty. Did she dare use it?

She curled her fingers around the handle.

Carr neared the bottom step. And Maggie’s eyes above the scarf mocked her, almost as if she were smiling in anticipation of the torture she would lay upon Lily when she got her hands on her.

“No!” Lily yelled. With a burst of strength borne of all the anger, pain, and fear rolling deep in her heart, she raised the knife and swung it backward, making contact with Carr’s upper leg.

He gave a scream of agony and fell away from her, releasing his hold. The gun slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

She started to fling herself toward Connell, but fingers gripped the back of her dress and yanked her backward. She found herself falling against Jimmy.

In that instant of confusion, she saw the foreman slide his knife across the floor to Connell. He swooped it up.

Lily strained to duck, to give Connell a target. And before Jimmy could move, Connell flung the weapon. It flew through the air with a speed that would have frightened Lily had she not seen Connell throw a knife before. The sharp tip sliced into Jimmy and embedded into his shoulder.

Jimmy shouted a string of curses and grabbed the smooth handle of the knife that had gone deep into his flesh. He shoved Lily away as if she were completely to blame for his pain.

She stumbled forward, scrambling across the distance toward Connell, her heart thudding with the need to reach him.

He was already halfway across the room. She launched herself into his arms, desperate for his help and strength.

“Lily,” he breathed as he swept her up, lifted her into his arms, and cradled her against his chest. The warmth and power of his hold enveloped her, and she buried her face into him, needing to block out Carr and everything that had happened.

Around them the men roared to life. They lunged at the bouncers, fists swinging. The crash of chairs, the shattering of glass, and the shouts sent her heart racing with new fear. Would they make it out alive?

She wound her arms around Connell’s neck.

He ducked as a bottle whizzed past them. A second later it crashed against the wall.

“Hold on tight,” he said, focusing on the door. He plowed forward, knocking into some men who didn’t seem to care who they were fighting, only that they relished a brawl.

One of the bouncers by the bottom of the steps shouted and began to make his way toward them. His eyes narrowed with a murderous glare.

“Hurry,” Lily urged. She didn’t know if she had the strength to fight anymore.

“I got him,” Stuart shouted to Connell. “You get Lily out of here.”

Connell hesitated.

“Go!” Stuart called again. Then with a cry, Stuart rushed at the bouncer, swinging the butt of his rifle at the man.

She could feel Connell’s muscles tighten as if he resisted the idea of leaving his companions to finish the bloody battle. But the leg of a chair flew past them, and Connell put his head down, shielding her with his body. He barreled his way to the door and kicked it open.

A rush of frigid air splashed her. For once she didn’t care that Michigan was so cold. Indeed, the flittering snowflakes were like kisses against the bare skin on her arms.

He crossed the yard, and the dogs raced to the fence of their pen, growling and barking. But their fierceness didn’t taunt her as it had in the past. She’d faced the dogs and won. And now she’d faced Carr and walked away from him too.

A fountain of unidentifiable emotions began to bubble inside her.

She’d lived through the horror of the past twenty-four hours, she’d stabbed Carr, and she was still alive to tell about it.

A ripple pushed up her throat and ended in a short sob.

Through the blackness of the night, broken by light streaming from the open doorway, Connell peered down at her. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, the worry in his eyes caressing her face.