7Paul stared at the scene below him. After the initial attack, he and Dean managed to work their way around their small camp, picking off several of Phillips’ men as they tried to surround them. In one hand, he held his Bowie knife and in the other, his Colt. His rifle lay empty beside him on the overhang.
He remained motionless and listened. Slowly, he crawled to the rocky overhang as silently as possible. Close by, a boot scuffed against rock. A second later came a soft hiss. He twisted on his back, his g*n out in front of him.
A dark form edged closer, and he took up the slack on the trigger and waited.
“Paul?” Dean whispered, dropping into a tight crouch.
“Hell, boy, you almost got yourself shot.” He rolled back on his stomach to keep his eye on Anna when she spit in Phillips’ face
