The Darkest Hour by Maya Banks Page A

Garrett murmured as he gently pried it from her fingers.
    She flinched when it glanced off her injured shoulder, and her breathing sped up. Sam frowned and made a move toward her, but she hastily backed away, her feet tangling in the undergrowth. She went down on her backside, landing painfully.
    Garrett was down beside her instantly, his hand going to her arm. Sam stood back, his brows furrowed.
    “Are you okay, Rachel? Where are you hurt?” Garrett asked.
    “My shoulder,” she said. “I can’t move my arm. Hurts too much.”
    “Probably dislocated,” Sam said grimly. “The angle is crooked, and she’s favoring it awfully bad.”
    She scooted back as Sam moved forward again. He cursed and halted.
    “She doesn’t remember you,” Garrett said.
    “Yeah, I noticed,” Sam muttered. “I’m not surprised she remembers you, though. Thank God for that at least.”
    “He lied,” Rachel whispered.
    Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Who lied?”
    “Sam.”
    Sam’s head rocked back in surprise. “Me?”
    Garrett’s hand came out to smooth her hair from her face. “What did he lie about, sweet pea?”
    Tears welled, and she bit her lip to keep the moan of despair from escaping. “He said he’d take me back to Ethan, but Ethan’s dead.”
    Both Garrett’s and Sam’s eyes widened in shock. Sam blew out his breath then squatted beside her, ignoring her efforts to move away.
    “Why on earth do you think Ethan’s dead?”
    “I saw him fall. He was shot. He told me to go and then he went down. I saw him.”
    Sam smiled. “He’s not dead, Rachel. It would take a hell of a lot more than that to kill that ornery bastard. It was just a graze. He bled like a stuck pig, but he’s fine. I swear it.”
    Her gaze flew to Garrett for confirmation, hope beating relentlessly against her chest. Garrett gave a short nod.
    “Is he okay now?” she asked in a shaky voice. “Where is he?”
    “I’ll take you to him,” Sam said. “But we have to hurry.”
    Fear leapt into her throat, and she began to shake. “Don’t let them take me back. Please.”
    Garrett’s face darkened, and she shivered at the raw violence on his face. From behind Sam, the other man stepped out. For a moment, his cool eyes bore into her and then he crouched down beside her. He didn’t press into her space. He just squatted there staring intently at her.
    “You don’t know me, Rachel,” he said in an even voice. “You have no reason to believe me. But there’s one thing I can guarantee you. I won’t allow those bastards to take you back. I’m going to get you and Ethan back home where you belong. Do you understand?”
    There was rock-hard assurance in his voice. An unwavering confidence that, despite her fear and anxiety, calmed her.
    Slowly she nodded. Steele nodded back and then rose, putting several feet of distance between them.
    “This might hurt,” Garrett said. He reached down and tucked one arm underneath her knees. His other arm slid along her back, and he carefully picked her up, trying not to jostle her hurt shoulder.
    She snuck a cautious look at Sam, studying him from the safety of Garrett’s hold. He didn’t look like Ethan. Garrett did, and maybe that’s why she remembered him. While Ethan and Garrett were big, black-haired men with hard bodies and hard faces, Sam was leaner but no less muscled. His hair was light brown, but his jaw was square and had a determined set that unnerved her. His eyes were a cold blue. A lot like Steele’s. Impenetrable ice.
    As if sensing her perusal, he glanced up. Like magic, those hard eyes softened and became warm. He offered her a tentative smile.
    “I don’t remember you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
    He reached out and tucked a strand of hair over her ear. “That’s all right, sweetheart. You will. What’s important is that we get you back to Ethan and then home, where we can all fuss over you and get you well.”
    Garrett started out, jostling her slightly as he navigated