Addie smelled leather and musk, the scent of wind and rain. The color of his hair was indeed natural, she saw now, the black and white strands starting at the roots and mixing together in wide streaks across his head.

Tiger-striped.

Why the thought popped into Addison’s mind, she didn’t know. The man said nothing, did nothing, only waited. As though he’d done this before.

“Kendrick!” The shout came from beyond the broken front windows. The voice was harsh, a mean edge to it. “Get your sorry ass out here!”

Kendrick. Addison wouldn’t have pegged that name on the solidly built guy on top of her, but then, it kind of went with his odd hair and green eyes.

To her alarm, Kendrick started to rise.

“No, don’t!” Addie whispered frantically.

The kids remained in place, eyes wide, frightened but waiting. The man called Kendrick got his feet under him but remained in a crouch next to Addie. His motorcycle boots were dusty, creased with wear. Denim stretched over heavily muscled thighs directly in her line of sight.

“If you go into the freezer and shut the door, can you get out again?” he was asking her. “You won’t be locked in?”

Addie stared at him, barely registering the question, then she nodded. Bo wasn’t stupid enough to have a freezer without a handle on the inside. He’d be the most likely person to get caught in there, and he knew it.

Bo—dear God, he’d be coming in soon, and these guys would shoot him like they shot poor Jimmy. She had to warn him . . . with her cell phone all the way across the room in her locker.

Kendrick’s voice rumbled next to her. “When I give you the signal, I want you to take the cubs and go into the freezer with them. Shut the door and stay low. Can you do that?”

Cubs? Oh, he meant the little boys. Addie cast an eye over them where they lay close together, bodies touching. Cubs—why the hell did he call them that?

“If I don’t come for you in fifteen minutes, take them out the back way and drive them toward Rock Springs. There’s a shut-down gas station just before you get to town. If I don’t meet you there . . .” Kendrick stopped, the ache in his eyes real as he cast his gaze over the boys. “Take them somewhere safe. Take care of them. Promise me.”

Addie put her hand on his arm, sinking fingers into the warm denim of his coat. “You can’t go out there. Let’s run out the back together. My car’s not far from the door.” If it didn’t go into one of its hissy fits and refuse to start, if it had enough gas to make it thirty miles down the highway.

Kendrick’s green gaze fixed on her, and he put a broad finger over her shaking lips. “Promise me, Addison.”

He’d never spoken her name before. The kids called her Addie, since Robbie had read her name tag and asked her what kind of name Addison was. She’d told them to use the shortened version. Kendrick had listened but never called her by name. Never said much to her at all, actually.

Now his deep voice around the syllables tingled through her blood, and Addie’s heart squeezed to one hot point.

She gulped a breath. “I promise. But what the hell do you think you’re going to do against a bunch of guys with automatics?”

Guys who were getting impatient. “Kendrick!” the man outside shouted. “You don’t want us coming in there. Come out and face us.”

Kendrick turned from Addie and grabbed the long bundle that held his sword. He’d even managed to bring that back here with him.

He quickly unrolled the folds of the cloth and drew from a sheath a long broadsword with a wide blade and a thick hilt. The sword looked very, very old, the blade a soft silver color, not shiny like modern steel. The hilt and blade were covered with symbols that looked like writing but no writing Addie had ever seen.