The coyote inched forward, ears alert and eyes sharp.

A loud click stopped his movement.

The passenger side of the car opened and a foot stepped out, then two.

Simon forced the animal behind a bush and watched.

His nose twitched with a scent more familiar than any before. Helen’s scent.

“Found him.”

A growl rose in Simon’s throat and Philip froze.

It would be easy to make the coyote attack, leave the man for dead.

“Where is he?” Helen’s calm voice asked.

Simon forced the coyote to still and then back away.

“Simon?”

“I’m looking.” Once Philip felt the threat was gone, he continued over to a small campfire he’d built and Simon forced the coyote to leave. Following the scent of cars, he found a path many had been on until he saw a paved road and a sign. “Red Rock Canyon.”

“I know where that is.” Helen’s voice was hopeful.

Simon moved the coyote off the main road and released his hold on the animal.

He blinked open his eyes, saw black and white, then closed them again.

“Simon, are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine.” A couple shakes of his head and his vision cleared.

Lizzy thanked the Ancients and closed the circle with a soft puff of air that blew out the candles. Slowly they lowered to the ground.

“How far is Red Rock Canyon?”

“Couple of hours without traffic.”

Simon helped Helen to her feet. “Get a coat. We need to go now, before he moves on. We’ll take him from there to Ian and return here when we’re done.”

“Be safe,” Lizzy said.

“God’s Speed.” Cian shook Simon’s hand.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Only half the moon lit their way once they turned off the main road and into the canyon where they expected to find Philip. Helen turned off the lights of the car and cut the engine. Simon sat beside her, eyes closed.

“He’s still here.”

Simon must have been using one of the nocturnal animals to stalk their prey. Helen shivered, knowing Philip didn’t stand a chance.

“I’ll secure him. Call for you when I’m done.”

“He might have a weapon.”

Simon’s eyes caught hers. “A gun?”

Helen lifted her hand to her throat. The memory of Philip’s knife scraping her skin brought on a wave of fear. “I don’t know about a gun. Certainly a knife.”

Simon captured her hand and ran a thumb along her jaw. “I would kill him with the knife he used against you.”

Without a doubt, he would. “We need him alive.”

Simon coaxed her lips open with his thumb and leaned in and captured them. His heated kiss was brief, but felt into the core of her soul. “He will regret ever touching you, lass.”

Swallowing hard she said, “I know.”

“Lower the window and listen. But stay here until I call.”

“Be careful.”

Simon raised an eyebrow and winked before removing his dirk from his side and sliding from the car. The dome light barely flickered and he was out the door and several feet away.

The call of a coyote had Helen twisting in her seat. Another high-pitched scream from the wild animals sounded in the opposite direction. A chorus of howls ripped through the silence of the night, masking any sound Simon made on his approach.

Helen smiled despite the severity of the situation and resolved herself to wait.

Not two minutes had gone by and Helen gave up.

Patience was not her thing.

She crawled out of the window to avoid the light filling the empty sky. Feeling a tiny bit like the stupid woman who runs into the basement knowing the boogieman was down there, Helen kept her eyes wide and her ears open. For some reason, sitting behind the wheel of her car felt more dangerous. If being with the MacCoinnich clan had taught her one thing, it was to trust her instincts. She had a gift, one that kept her safe more than not.

Sending Simon toward a lunatic alone wasn’t sitting well with her. She knew arguing the point with Simon wouldn’t get her far. He was all medieval about some things and so very modern about others, it was one of his personality quirks she loved the most about him. Like how his accent thickened when he was in warrior or lover mode. She loved it.

Helen stopped and placed a hand to her chest.

No, she loved him.

And as soon as life slowed down she’d tell him.

If only life would cooperate.

* * * *

Philip paced on the side of the small campfire. He was cold, he stunk, and he didn’t care too much for the coyotes roaming the desert night.

Where the hell is Malcolm?

They’d spoken of this canyon long before they knew what the stone could do. Before their life turned to shit, they’d visited the canyon with their father. He shook away the painful memories and stared into the fire.

What the hell was he going to do?

The police wanted to question him about his brother’s disappearance. And if Helen ever appeared from wherever the hell she’d vanished, the police would want to do more than talk with him.

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a frustrated sigh. Jesus, what was he going to do?

Another coyote howled in the distance, a little closer than the others. He twisted on his heel and narrowed his eyes in a vain attempt to see where the noise came from.

A chorus of howls called from behind him, answering the first animal’s cry.

Were they surrounding him? Philip stood a little taller, gauged the distance to his car, and relaxed. Only a few yards. Nothing he couldn’t manage easily if the animals wanted to attack him.

He turned back to the fire and placed his hands in front of his body to warm, to think about his situation. Usually he was the levelheaded one, the one to count on in a crunch. Yet when he’d snatched Helen, a surge of power he hadn’t known he possessed welled up from nowhere. Damn he was screwed, really and truly f**ked. Even now, days later, his c**k hardened and his pulse raced as he remembered the fear in her eyes. “You’re one sick mother,” he said to himself. Still, his lips twitched into a sick grin. Maybe this was where madness began, in the dark of a desert night surrounded by coyotes and cold autumn air.

Maybe… He froze, his body doing its best impression of a wooden board, as the hair on the nape of his neck prickled. With his hand slowly reaching to his right hip pocket where he kept the knife he’d held against Helen’s throat, his gaze drifted with slow, calculated ease. Beyond his right shoulder, by his car, was a sight that made his breath catch.