"You lie!"

"Call your friends," Grif said. "They might have a hard time answering their phones, but I'm sure Sheriff Kingston won't mind assisting."

"Down to one," Britt said. "Now tell us where you've stashed Carlie Beth."

The arrogance that had been present on Norwood's face since he'd stepped out of his vehicle now faltered. His attention shifted from Britt to Grif as he put distance between them.

"Don't even think about running," Grif warned. "There's nowhere you can hide that I won't find you."

Norwood ripped open his jacket.

"Get down!" Britt pushed Grif away and reached for the weapon holstered at his side.

But his brother was having none of it. Grif recovered and slammed into him just as Norwood fired his gun. Grif's body jerked.

"Griffin!"

Britt eased his brother to the ground.

Another blast from Norwood's weapon and the bullet lodged in Britt's shoulder blade, pitching him forward.

"Sonofabitch!" That hurt like a mother. Torn between chasing after Norwood, calling 911, and grabbing the first-aid kit, he yelled at Grif, "Where are you hit?"

Grif pointed to his side.

"Exit wound?"

His brother nodded. "I'll live."

"I need to go after him."

"You're in worse shape than I am."

"Watch over Randi. There's a first-aid kit in my truck."

"Dammit, Britt!"

Britt took off after Norwood. Even wounded, he began making headway on the slower, older man. As blood drained from his body, his face turned cold, his fingers grew numb. His vision blurred.

Norwood glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened at Britt's close proximity. Desperate, the poacher fired a shot at him. The bullet went wild. Norwood lost his balance, slipped, and he stumbled, his arms cartwheeling to keep himself upright.

Surging forward, Britt threw his good shoulder into Norwood's back, tackling him to the ground. Pain sliced through Britt's side. Norwood went down hard, his breath punched from his lungs by the packed dirt. His pistol went flying into the brush.

Unable to move, Britt allowed his two hundred and twenty-five pounds to immobilize Norwood. He lay there, atop the bastard, like a damned beached whale. He hoped Grif couldn't see him from this distance. Living something like this down would take years.

"Britt, you okay?" his brother yelled.

"I'm fine. Norwood's down."

Norwood squirmed. "Get the hell off me, redneck."

Britt slid more fully atop his prisoner and crammed his forearm into the back of Norwood's neck. "Where's Carlie Beth Parrish?"

"Fuck you."

"Wrong answer." He pressed harder. When he did, he noticed an active mound of sandy dirt. "Last chance to do the right thing, Norwood." Britt shook off the black spots crowding into his peripheral vision.

"And lose my chance of watching you and your brothers dance around like headless chickens? You stole from the wrong man, Steele. Happy hunting."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Britt scooped up a handful of the mound and dumped it on Norwood's head. It took a few seconds for the ants to recover. When they did, Norwood screamed.

With his hands lodged beneath him, Norwood couldn't fend off the attack. Britt had no idea if the ants were biting the poacher, or if it was just the sensation of having bugs crawl over his face and into every available orifice that turned the arrogant brute to a wailing child. Either way, the ants had him singing like a soprano.

"She's in my vehicle!"

"That's Randi. Where's Carlie Beth?"

"My truck. Tied up on the back floorboard."

"You'd better not be lying."

"See for yourself." He spat out an ant. "Now let me up."

Britt started to roll off his prisoner, but stopped as an idea formed. "I have a few more questions."

"What?" He gagged. "What for God's sake?"

"Did you, or one of your cronies, kill Barbara Shepherd and sabotage Miranda Shepherd's business?"

Norwood howled with laughter between hacking coughs.

"Time for more fun." Britt forced Norwood's chin around and up so he could see the mound of ants he still had to work with. "I've got plenty of friends who are itching to play."

The poacher struggled in earnest, almost knocking Britt off his roost.

"Confess, and I'll spare you my friends' happy dance on your face."

A stream of violent, life-threatening oaths flowed from his captive's lips.

"All right, but I tried to keep this civil."

Britt scooped up a handful and slowly poured the ants on Norwood's head. A few made a run up Britt's arm. He ignored them.

Norwood shrieked. "Yes, damn you! Ferguson killed the old bitch when she wouldn't sell, Watters set up the bad investment, and Taylor cut the power to the cooler."

"All under your direction?"

"No! I had nothing to do with the Shepherd woman's death."

Satisfaction and sadness sent Britt's forearm into the poacher's neck, forcing the bastard to gasp for breath.

Before he did something that would send him to prison, Britt rolled off and came face-to-face with a fender. With the racket Norwood had been making, he hadn't heard the squad car's approach.

The deputy peered over the hood. "Evening, Britt."

"Hey, Deputy Blaine. Did you catch his confession?"

"Sure did. So did my dashboard camera." He nodded toward the anthill. "Effective device."

Dashboard camera. Fucking great. "After he's bug-free, could you take care of him? I need to check on my friends."

"Yes, sir. Sheriff Kingston already filled me in. Said to do what I could."

Britt got to his feet, splaying his right hand out to steady himself. His tussle with Norwood had jarred his injured shoulder so badly that the entire left side of his body was numb.

"Can you check Norwood's pockets for a key? It's for a lock."

The deputy cuffed Norwood, ignoring his prisoner's pleas to free his hands. Blaine dug into each of the poacher's pockets, finding nothing. "Sorry, sir."

"Where is the key, Norwood?"

The stupid bastard looked like he was going to refuse to answer. Until Britt eyed what was left of the anthill.

"Driver's side visor."

"Smart man." Britt made his way back to Grif, who was trying to operate a pair of heavy bolt cutters to free Randi. But he had lost too much blood. "Hold up. Let me get the key."

"Where's Norwood? Did he say where he'd left Carlie Beth?"

"He's with Deputy Blaine." Britt flipped open Norwood's visor and the key fell into his palm. He opened the back door. "Check the floorboard."

Grif stumbled around to the side of the vehicle. As soon as he looked into the SUV, the ferocity marring his features softened. "Found her."

Jamming the key into the crate's lock, Britt twisted it one way, then the other until he heard a click, felt the release. Swinging the door open wide, Britt untied Randi's arms and legs. Her eyelids fluttered open. Britt released a shaky breath.

"Randi," he coaxed. "Try to sit up."

"What happened?"

"You had a run-in with Norwood."

Panic flared in her groggy eyes. "Carlie Beth?"

Peering through the SUV, Britt watched his brother remove Carlie Beth's gag and restraints. He spoke to her in soft tones, his movements slow and gentle.

"Grif's got her. She'll be fine."

"Thank goodness." She squinted at her surroundings. "Am I in a dog crate?"

"Come on." He held out a hand. "Let's get you out of there."

"Britt, I-"

He kissed her softly on the lips. "Save your explanation for later. I want to inspect your wounds right now."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course, I am." Angry, terrified, guilt-ridden. He touched a trembling finger to her cheek. "Let's take this one step at a time."

She noticed him favoring his left arm. "Are you hurt?"

When he didn't answer, she scrambled out of the vehicle to inspect his body. She sucked in a sharp breath. "You're bleeding! Dear Lord, there's so much blood."

"I'm okay." Britt coaxed her into the crook of his good arm. "It looks worse than it is."

"Norwood got him while he was trying to play hero," Grif threw out.

Britt glared at his brother.

"Have you called for an ambulance?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Are you serious?"

"I've been a little busy."

By the time the gang arrived a few minutes later, he and Grif had managed to get their bleeding under control, with the ladies' help. The strain of blood loss had them both sitting on the edge of the tailgate next to Randi and Carlie Beth, who were still fighting the effects of some kind of knockout drug.

Maggie sized up the entire scene in one thorough glance. "All of this to save a wolf?"

"Not just any wolf," Randi said. "A critically endangered species, a breeding female, a mama snatched away from her pups."

Concern twisted in Britt's stomach when he saw Evie and Brynne trailing behind Deke. He couldn't see any visible injuries, but the two women were subdued. No doubt shaken to the core by their skirmish with Ferguson and the others.

"Does Aunt Joanie know what you boys have been up to this evening?" Maggie asked.

"Some of it," Grif said. "If you fill her in on all the details, I'll lock you up in your mama's chicken coop again."

"Touchy, touchy." Maggie gave Grif a pointed look. "Need a ride to the hospital?"

"Clean exit wound. I'll take care of it later."

"Let me know if you're successful in hiding your wound from Aunt Joanie."

Grif turned to Carlie Beth. "I really don't like her."

"I do."