“I … I don’t understand,” I managed between gasps.

In a smooth unhampered move, he rolled on top of me, pinning me down with the weight of his solid body. He held me there for a long time.

Though no fires burned in his eyes as before, there was enough heat from his piercing gaze to sear me to the spot. He jerked my head back and wrapped his long fingers around my throat, slitting his eyes as if daring me to defy him again.

“I could break your neck,” he said in a husky whisper as he moved so close, I thought his lips would touch mine, “before you even felt the twitch of my hands.” His breath, sweet and warm against my mouth, felt so at odds with the cold, cruel sincerity of his words. “I could boil the blood in your veins and fuse your bones together.” His eyes were knives, stabbing me with hot anger. “And I could make sure you lived long enough to feel every surge of pain, every nuance of agony.”

Fear engulfed me as it never had before. After what I’d seen today, I didn’t doubt a single word he was saying. “I’m sure that you could,” I said with a nervous swallow, then added, “Please don’t.”

He was shaking violently, or perhaps it was me. I wondered if he had stopped time again, because everything seemed to stand still as he stared down at me, a contemptuous rage glittering in his eyes.

“What did you do to me?” he asked again.

I raised a hand—praying he wouldn’t take it as a threat and carry out the aforementioned atrocities—and placed it on the side of his face.

He tried to back away, but I held my ground, kept my palm on his warm face.

“Jared,” I said, my voice quivering uncontrollably, “I would never hurt you.” He peered curiously at a tear as it pushed past my lashes. “I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to.”

He watched me warily as though struggling with some inner demon before saying, “You’re the only one who can.”

A sound above caught our attention. Cameron was trying to aim his rifle and drive at the same time. Jared grabbed the barrel just as the gun went off, startling me to the core. It blew a jagged hole in the top of the camper.

In one fluid movement, he jerked the gun from Cameron’s hand, chambered a round as he rose to his knees, and pointed it at Cameron’s head.

“No!” I scrambled up and lunged at him, trying to push the rifle aside. I shouldered myself between him and the pickup—between him and Cameron. Clutching at Jared’s T-shirt, I coaxed his sight down to mine. “No more.” I spoke softly but firmly. “This has to stop.” I turned to Cameron. “Both of you. This has to stop.”

Cameron grinned. He had no intention whatsoever of listening to me. “Not in this lifetime, love.”

He reached below the seat and took out a nasty-looking pistol, the kind that held six fat rounds.

The instant the gun went off, I found myself on the bed of the pickup, facedown. Jared was over me, but only for a split second. Before Cameron could get off another shot, he kicked down the tailgate and slid out the back of the pickup.

After a brutal fall to the pavement and a few rolls, he sprang up to land solidly on his feet. My breath caught as the eighteen-wheeler behind us tried to brake, sliding and skidding in helplessness. My hands flew to my mouth, sure Jared would be crushed.

He stood eyeing me, unconcerned. Just as the truck bore down upon him, he sidestepped calmly out of its way.

The relief that flooded my senses sent an unwelcome darkness washing over me. I shook my head to keep it at bay, forced myself not to pass out.

When Cameron screeched to a halt on a narrow pull-off, I flew forward and hit the cab. Pain exploded in my head. For the second time I almost lost consciousness, but I fought it with every ounce of determination I had.

I glanced back at Jared. He hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, eyeing me, his powerful stance testifying to his strength, to the might he held in his grasp.

Cameron jumped out of the cab and retrieved the rifle from the bed. He turned and pointed it.

Jared stood his ground.

But again I lunged and knocked Cameron off balance. The shot fired harmlessly into the air.

Jared bared his teeth.

As Cameron chambered another round, Jared turned and sprinted toward the caves in the red canyon wall, disappearing behind a hill.

With a curse, Cameron threw the rifle onto the ground. “Why did you do that?” he yelled, engulfed by anger and frustration. “Don’t you see what you’ve done?”

I shook my head in disgust. “You’re crazy. You’re both crazy.”

He stepped toward me and I tensed. He must have seen me flinch, because he stopped himself. Tension dug furrows into his forehead as he glared at me. “Better crazy than dead,” he said at last. He turned and latched the abused tailgate. “Get in the cabin.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re absolutely nuts. Here you’ve been stalking me for days, and now—”

“Him!” he said harshly. “It! I’ve been stalking that thing for the last three days.”

His confession stunned me. I stared at him with mouth agape. Why would he have been stalking Jared?

Growing impatient, Cameron tried to take hold of me again, to drag me back into his pickup. I fought him with a wicked kick to his shin.

Success at last. Finally something got his attention. He let go with a string of curses any rapper would be proud of and fell back against the tailgate, rubbing his shin vigorously. After a moment, he slid to the bumper and cast a malevolent look at me, breathing hard, his patience clearly dissipating.