The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood Page 0,112
I pulled LaReigne down next to me in front of the dresser. It wouldn’t be much protection but it was something.
“We can’t go out there,” LaReigne said.
I hadn’t come all that way to get her shot, so we stayed where we were. Edrard must have put the phone in his pocket, because I couldn’t hear anything.
Three more gunshots came right together. Or maybe more than three. I couldn’t keep track anymore. Someone started screaming. A man screaming, which I’d never heard in my life. I told myself it didn’t sound like Gentry, but would I recognize anybody I knew from the sound of them screaming in pain?
After a few minutes, the screaming stopped and there was nothing but silence. I pulled myself up with the edge of the dresser and went to open the bedroom door. The hallway was empty. I took the gun out of my waistband and flicked the safety off, because if I was ever going to need a gun, it was then.
“Come on. We need to go.” I snapped my fingers at LaReigne.
“Lady Zhorzha! Art’ou well?” Gentry shouted from outside.
“Oh, thank fuck, Gentry. Yes. We’re okay.” Hearing his voice, hearing that he was okay, made me so shaky I had to put the safety back on the gun.
I took LaReigne’s hand and pulled her after me, down the hall and across the front room to the door. When we got there, Gentry came up the stairs, his sword in his hand, and stepped over the body lying on the porch.
The body.
Lying.
On the porch.
I think the only thing that kept me from freaking out was the weed. Whatever LaReigne was on, it did not help her. She started saying, “Oh my god! Oh my god!” and then: “Where’s Tague?”
The body was the guy they’d called Scanlon, with a huge gash in the side of his neck. He was very dead.
“We musten go, my lady, and swiftly.” Gentry held out his hand, but I didn’t take it, because he was covered in blood—his hands, his sword—of course, he’d killed Scanlon. There was a hole in the left thigh of his pants, with blood seeping out of it.
“Oh, Jesus Christ. Did you get shot?” I said. That’s how stupid I was. I’d brought him to that place and gotten him shot, and I was surprised?
“’Tis not horrible, but we musten go.”
With the gun still in my right hand, I put my left arm around LaReigne’s waist, and lifted her over Scanlon’s body. Then I stepped over him and pushed her toward the porch steps.
Once I had her moving, I thought we were going to be okay, but she kept turning and looking around. We only made it a few feet from the cabin before LaReigne came to a dead stop and started shrieking from the bottom of her lungs.
“Tague! Tague! Tague!” That’s what she was screaming, and that’s how I knew who was lying in the grass next to the cabin. LaReigne twisted her arm out of my grip and ran back to him. He was such a bloody mess, I couldn’t even tell what was wrong with him. LaReigne got on her knees beside him, still screaming his name.
Gentry was ten feet ahead, waiting for us to catch up. I stuffed the gun into my jeans and went to get LaReigne. I was strong enough to lift her, but she started swinging and kicking, so I ended up dropping her, practically on top of Tague, who moaned.
“We have to go,” I said. “We have to go now!”
“I’m not leaving him!” LaReigne said.
“What did you do, sissy?” I said. My stomach bottomed out, the same way it did right before I laid that motorcycle down on my leg, when I realized I was going to wreck. When I knew there was no going back and maybe no going forward either. “Did you help them? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. But Tague says this is a chance for us to start over. Leave his past behind. Leave my past behind.” She was crying, but she said it in this dreamy, faraway voice.
“Leave what behind? Marcus?” Anger was always safer than fear. I knew what to do with anger. I smacked the side of her head, hard enough to make her pay attention to me.
“No,” she said. “Tague promised. Molly’s going to bring Marcus to me.”
“How? How is Molly going to bring him to you?”
“She was supposed to pick him up and bring him to me that night, but