Micah spotted a throng of park rangers gathered around a picnic table in the distance. A slim woman sat on top. Fiery-red hair tumbled past her shoulders in thick waves. Blood dripped down the side of her face and her expression was wild. She couldn’t seem to focus on the questions being asked of her by the rangers. Shit.

He nudged Pete’s arm. “Let me handle Remy while you corral your staff. They’re scaring her.”

“Good idea. She’ll balk if I try to help her anyway, won’t want me telling her brothers she couldn’t handle things herself. See what you can do for her while I question Papa Joe.”

They broke through the crowd, Pete giving Remy’s hand a squeeze before moving off with an older man and some of his rangers. Micah stayed with her, lightly cupping her chin to catch her attention. She jumped at his touch and tried to pull away. “Easy, honey. You need to lay down so I can look at your injuries.”

“I-I don’t need any help.” She was white as a sheet. A nasty gash oozed over an eye, a bitch of a knife wound creasing her right thigh beneath a bloodied do-rag.

Man, she was out of it if she thought she could walk away with those injuries. “You’re probably right, but humor me. Okay?”