He’d almost reached the protection of the copse of trees on the opposite side when a shot rang out. Nathan dove forward, hitting the ground with a skidding thud that jolted pain through his ribs. Another pistol report came in quick succession, followed by a cry of surprised pain, then, “Watch out!”

Everything in him froze. Bloody hell, he recognized that voice.

Pushing himself up, Nathan dashed toward where he’d heard the cry. As he rounded a curve in the path, he saw the masculine form on the ground. With all his attention focused on the fallen man, he didn’t hear the noise behind him until it was too late. Before he could react, he was shoved, the blow catching him squarely between the shoulder blades. Thrown off balance, the pouch containing the jewels propelled from his grasp. A black-gloved hand snatched up the cache, then the shadowy figure dashed into the woods.

For the space of one stunned heartbeat, Nathan lay on the path, watching the figure melt into the darkness, clutching that which seconds ago had belonged to him. Then, with sharp talons of dread urging him on, Nathan rose and ran to the fallen man. Dropping to his knees, he looked into the pain-filled eyes of his closest friend.

“Damn it, Gordon, what the hell are you doing here?” Nathan asked, his voice rigid with fright while he began a hasty examination. When he touched Gordon’s shoulder, he encountered the slick warmth of blood.

“Was going to ask you the same thing,” Gordon ground out.

“Were you hit only once?”

Gordon winced, then nodded. “Second shot got me. Hurts like hellfire, but only clipped me. Don’t know if Colin was as lucky. Saw him go down with the first shot.”

Nathan froze at the mention of his brother’s name. “Where is he?”

Gordon jerked his head to the left. Nathan turned and saw a pair of boots protruding from beneath a hedge. The sight hit him like a physical blow and he had to clamp his jaws together to contain the agonized Nooooo! that roared into his throat.