"I've got it." Pushing me gently out of the way, he bent down and lifted Ice easily in his massive arms, cradling her gently against his chest. "Where should I take her?"

"Can you carry her upstairs to the bed?"

"No problem. Get the door."

Pop grabbed the door, holding it wide for Tom to pass through carrying Ice while I concentrated on dragging myself back to my feet.

It was funny, though. My leg didn't seem to hurt all that much anymore. My joy in seeing Ice alive coupled with the sure knowledge of what she went through to make her way back to me in the condition she was in made my own injury pale to less than insignificance.

I found myself, therefore, almost flying through the door which Pop courteously held open for me, dashing across the hard wooden floors, and taking the stairs two at a time to arrive just in time to see Tom lay Ice gently on our bed. The look on his face was a curious mixture of sorrow, amazement, and utter worship.

I suspected the same look was on my own face as well.

Noticing my presence after carefully arranging her arms and legs in a comfortable position atop the sheets, he stepped out of the way, giving me room to lower myself to my knees beside the bed and gently grasp one of her hands, holding it up to my cheek as my eyes played over her battered, blood and gore covered face.

I didn't see any of that, though. Not then. Not yet.

Instead, I just allowed myself to drink in the sight of her, alive and breathing and as beautiful to my eyes as the day I first saw, seemingly an entire lifetime ago.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Tom said finally, breaking the silence which had fallen over the room.

"No," I said immediately, looking up at him. "No hospitals."

"If you're worried about the cost, Tyler, don't. We'll . . . ."

"No. It's not that. It's . . . ." I took a deep breath, attempting to gather my thoughts. "She's been shot."

He looked me as if I'd suddenly regressed back to diapers. "Yeah, I know. That's why we need to get her to a hospital."

"You don't understand."

"Obviously, I don't. Mind filling me in?" There was just a touch of anger in his voice. Justified, I thought, given what he'd gone through to search for the very woman who was now lying, grievously injured, on the bed.

"First thing them docs'll do, Tommy," Pop said, coming into the room, "after they stabilize her is ta call the cops."

"So? That's a bad thing? Those guys kidnapped her and tried to murder her! I think bringing the police in is a good thing right about now!"

"Won't help nothin, Tommy. They're dead already."

Tom turned to Pop, his eyes wide with shock. "What?"

Pop gestured to the bed. "She killed em."

Tom looked down at Ice, then over at me, his jaw slack. I nodded. "All of them?"

I nodded again.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "But . . .she could claim self defense, right?"

"Sure," Pop replied, "after they was done askin her why them Mafia boys had such an interest in her."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

Reaching out, Tom laid a hand on Ice's brow. His eyebrows drew together in a pensive frown. "Well, whatever you guys are gonna do, it'd better be soon. She's burning up."

And suddenly, I could feel it as well in the limp hand I was holding. Always a warm furnace, Ice's body radiated a heat that was unnatural, even for her. I looked over at Pop, my fears plain on my face.

"I'll go downstairs and wet down some towels. That'll help cool her off for a start till we figure out who ta call."

"What about Steve?" Tom asked.

"Pretty fair country doc, but I don't think he's got the skills we need, Tommy."

Then he turned and walked back down the stairs, leaving us alone. Reaching out with my free hand, I gingerly touched the sweaty, dirty and bloody bangs on Ice's pale brow, carefully trying to avoid the myriad of cuts and scrapes gouged into her skin, a task which was nearly impossible. There didn't appear to be an unmarked inch of skin anywhere.

The tears were there. I could feel them burning at my eyes, demanding release, but I didn't let them fall. Time enough later, when she was out of the woods.

Needing to get my mind off of the sight my eyes were seeing, if even for a moment, I looked up at Tom. "When you came over here, you acted like you had some news?"

My friend startled, as if pulled from a dream. "Oh! Yeah! John found something about thirty miles down that road we were searching yesterday. We probably missed it because of the storm."

"Did he say what it was?"

"No. They were just getting ready to head down. Whatever it was, it had him pretty excited, though." He scratched at the heavy growth of stubble on his cheek. "Which reminds me. I'd better get back out to the truck and see what it was. Not that it makes much difference now, thank God."

"It might."

"Might what?"

"Make a difference. If she left the . . . um . . .bodies laying around."

"Damn," Tom replied, rubbing his forehead. "I didn't even think about that." He shook his head. "Lemme get downstairs and figure out what's going on."

Pop came into the room, heavily laden with wet towels, as soon as Tom left. "C'mon," he said, laying them on the bed and turning to me, "let's get 'er outta what's left of 'er clothes and lay these towels on her. Might help ta bring the fever down a little, at least."

"Alright." Struggling up to my feet, I worked on the upper half of her body while Pop worked on the lower. There really wasn't much left of the simple button down shirt she'd donned and her bra was another lost cause, having been ripped to shreds somewhere along the way. I didn't have to try hard at all to divest her of the tattered remnants hanging from her battered body.

"Oh. . .Ice," I whispered, looking down at the body bared to me. Her breasts were bruised and bloody. Several long cuts could be seen beneath the liberal coating of blood and mud which painted her skin. Her ribcage on the right was oddly shaped, and I guessed that she had three or four broken ribs. There was a long open gash which drew a grisly line from just beneath her sternum and ran underneath the blood-encrusted jeans Pop was currently working hard just to unbutton.

And, of course, there was the bullet hole just above her hip, surrounded by swollen, angry red skin and oozing a constant bloody fluid.

With a satisfied grunt, Pop finally managed to pry open the button holding Ice's jeans together and with a quick, though gentle, tug, he pulled them off, together with her underpants.

Excepting the second bullet wound in her thigh, her legs seemed to have escaped the worst of the damage, though she did have several wicked gashes on her calves and shins and both knees were swollen, scraped and bleeding.

Working together, Pop and I soon managed to cover her with cool, wet towels from head to toe, hoping against hope we could put a dent in the raging fever she had. "Do you have any ideas?" I asked him when we were finally done.

"Been thinkin on it," he replied. "Got a friend up country some who's pretty fair with a scalpel and knows how ta keep his mouth shut. Might do for a start."

I could feel myself sag with relief against the bed. "Thank God. Are you going to call him?"

"Do it right now."

Just as he turned to leave, we both stiffened as the sounds of shouting filtered into the cabin. The words weren't easily discerned, but from the heated tone, it was pretty obvious that Tom was trying his best to keep someone outside, while that 'someone' was trying just as hard to get in.

There was a loud crash and then I heard my name. "Angel!"

Which was strange, because no man in town called me by that name.

My first thought was Andre, but he was a French Canadian who spoke with a thick, if pleasing, accent. The man who called my name carried no such accent.

"Angel, are you in there? It's Bull! I need to talk to you right away!"

"Bull?" I rose slowly to my feet. "Tom, it's alright! Let him in! He's a friend!"

I walked over to the wooden railing as Bull burst through the door, Tom hard at his heels, their faces still flushed with heated anger.

"Angel! Thank God I'm not too late. Where's Morgan? I need to speak to you both. It's really important."

"She's up here, Bull," I replied, taking in the sight of a friend I hadn't seen in a year. He looked just the same, right down to the massive beard he evidently didn't bother to shave even in the heat of summer.

"Um, could you get her to come down here? Please?"

"I can't do that, Bull. Come on up here."

He took his cap off and twisted it in his hands, blushing slightly beneath his heavy beard. "Are you sure?"

I smiled a little. "Now's not the time to get all shy on me, Bull. Just get up here."

"Alright."

I could hear him take the steps three at a time as his huge body barely made it up the narrow stairway. He made it to the top, then stopped, face slack with shock and some deeper emotion. "I am too late," he breathed. "God damn it. No!"

Walking over to the bed, he stared down at Ice's unresponsive body, fat tears rolling down his bearded cheeks. "Dear God, Morgan, no. You can't . . . . No."

I stepped up and placed a hand on his back. "She's still alive, Bull," I said softly in an effort to ease his grief. "They tried, but they didn't succeed."

He turned to me, his eyes shiny with his tears, his hands clenched in massive, white-knuckled fists. "Was it . . . ?"

I nodded. "At least I think so. Cavallo wasn't with them. She seemed to know one of them, though. A guy by the name of Carmine. He seemed to be the leader."

He returned my nod, his face twisting into a snarl of anger. "Yeah, she knew him alright. Carmine used to be a friend of hers, before he turned belly up and became Cavallo's stooge. Bastard. When I find him, I'm gonna . . . ."

"No need. He's dead."

Bull's eyes widened. "Morgan?"

"Yeah. She killed all of them, then managed to make her way back here, though I don't know how."

"You mean they took her away? Alive? But how?"

I sighed. "It's a long story, Bull. Suffice it to say for now that they're not a threat anymore."

"They shouldn't have been a threat in the first place, goddamnit!" I could hear his teeth grind in anger.

"Did something happen?"

"Yeah," he spat. "They managed to find Andre, though how, I don't know."

"Oh, God. Is he alright?"

"He's alive. They beat the holy living crap out of him, but he's alive."

"Did he tell them?"

"No. Andre wouldn't spill anything if you pulled his fingernails out by the roots. He's tough."

"Then who?"

"Andre's partner. He just couldn't take seeing him beaten up like that anymore. He managed to get Andre to the hospital, then he called me. I was up in the mountains and didn't find out about anything till just this morning. I've been driving all day, praying to god I wasn't too late." He wiped the tears from his eyes. "But I was anyhow."

I rubbed my hand along his broad back, trying to console him. It wasn't working. He was wound up tighter than a spring. "It's alright, Bull. You couldn't have known."

"I should have, damnit!" He wiped his eyes again. "I should have, and I didn't. And now Morgan is . . .is . . . ."

"She's alive, Bull. She's alive."

After a moment, he reached down and clasped Ice's hand in his own. "I'm sorry, Morgan. God, I'm so, so sorry." Then he looked at me. "She's burnin up with fever."

"I know. She's been shot twice and she's got a whole bunch of other injuries on top of that. We were just about to call in a friend to help."

"Let me. Please. I couldn't stop this from happening, but at least I can help fix her up." He turned to me, eyes intense and pleading. "I was a battlefield medic in 'Nam. Chucked it all and moved up here when my tour was over, but I've kept up my skills. I might not know a lot, but I do know how to treat gunshot wounds." Reaching out his free hand, he grasped my own, squeezing it tightly. "Please, Angel. Please let me help. I have to make it up to her somehow. I have . . . ."

I gave him my best smile. "That's the best offer I've heard all day, Bull. Thank you."

"No, Angel. Thank you." He turned then, and almost ran into Pop, who had been silently listening to the exchange. "Oh, I'm sorry. Um . . .I'm Bull."

Pop smiled. "So I gathered. Pop." The two men shook hands as Pop carefully appraised my hulking friend. "You known Morgan a long time, have ya?"

"Yeah. Since she was a kid. I love her like a sister. Always have."

Pursing his lips, Pop nodded, once. "Alright then. Got gear ya need brung up?"

"It's in my truck. I'll get it." After a last look at Ice, he turned and ran back down the stairs and out to his truck.

"Guess we got lucky," Pop commented.