Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(55)

“You’re bleeding,” she protested. “A lot. You call that nothing?”

He shrugged. “Compared to what T-Rex had in mind for us, we look ready for the debutante ball.”

She doubled over, covered her face, and quietly dissolved.

“Sorry, princess,” he offered gently. “Didn’t mean to set you off.”

“It’s not your fault.” She straightened up, mopped her face. “You do tend to catch me at a disadvantage.”

“I think you look gorgeous. Sprinting through the woods, tits bouncing, bullets flying…wow. Talk about a fashion accessory.”

Her whole body started to vibrate again. “Please, don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me laugh again. I warn you. I’ll fall to pieces.”

“But seriously.” He laid his hand gently on her back. “You were hell on wheels. That was f*cking amazing. The nail in the face, the bite, the gun. I worship at your shrine, babe. Who knew?”

“Hardly.” His admiring tone made her redden with shame. She didn’t deserve it, after the way she’d begged and trembled like a trapped gerbil. “I didn’t put any holes in him.”

“You sent him off at a dead run,” Sean said. “Which is more than I managed to do. You rule. Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Oh, I have,” she quavered. “I do. You never listen.”

He made a harsh, wordless sound, and grabbed her.

Their hearts pounded together, like drums. Sean’s hands clutched handfuls of her hair. “I could hold you all day, but that guy’s going to be back,” he said. “I don’t know what he wants from you, but we better—”

“I do.” The words exploded out of her. “That guy killed Kev.”

Sean let go, and stared into Liv’s face, speechless. His world dipped and spun, changing shape with a violence that made him dizzy.

Kev. Of course.

“He tried to get me to tell him about Kev,” Liv babbled. “He wants to know where the tapes are, whatever that means. He thought I’d been in hiding. It was true. Kev didn’t kill himself. He was murdered. By that guy, and maybe some others. He said ‘we,’ like there were more.”

The tapes. The proof’s in the sketchbook. It’s all there. Dumb ass.

He heard Kev’s dream voice, saw the patient look in his eyes, as he waited for his lame-brain twin to get his shit together and figure it out. It was a paradox, how Liv’s words could blow his mind into total disarray, and at the same time, be the confirmation of something he’d always known. A puzzle piece, set quietly into place.

He’d split his mind apart to deal with that paradox. The strongest, best part of himself, the part that knew Kev wasn’t crazy, had been clubbed into unconsciousness and locked in a closet. The worthless garbage that was left over was what had passed for Sean McCloud.

He was paralyzed with rage. They’d murdered his brother, and f*cked with his head about it. Soiled Kev’s memory. Conditioned his whole life. Everything he’d done, everything he was. Every morning that he’d opened his eyes with that wrong, sucking feeling in his gut.

And then they had tried to hurt Liv. His hands fisted, white-knuckled. Liv’s mouth was still moving, but he could not hear what she said. His ears roared like he’d just gone over a waterfall.

But his fury at Kev’s killers was nothing compared to how angry he was with himself. For giving in. Falling for it. Fucking idiot.

He wiped mud off the faceplate of his watch. He had to sharpen up, if they wanted to stay alive. He’d reached the cabin less than ten minutes ago. Davy would have called the cops maybe a half hour ago.

He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket, amazed it was still in one piece. Popped the shell, pried the beacon out, tossed it. Con and Davy would be pissed, but it would resolve their immediate ethical dilemma with the cops if he removed himself from their grid.

“Are you in need of medical attention?” His brusque question cut off whatever she might have been saying. “How badly did he hurt you?”

She blinked. “Uh…I hadn’t really thought about it yet.”

He grabbed her hands. Already clotting. He lifted her hair to check the bite, the cut beneath her ear. The cut had stopped oozing, but the bite worried him. T-Rex’s crocodile mouth had to be more toxic than most. “You look OK,” he said. “You’re not going to go into shock on me, are you? Do you feel faint? Cold? Do you have the shivers?”

She shook her head.

“Good. Then we’re out of here.” He scooped her into the circle of his arm and hustled her along beside him at a brisk, stumbling trot.

“Aren’t we…shouldn’t we wait for the police?”

“Nope. We are running for our lives. You got a problem with that?”

She pondered that. “Not exactly. But I would like to be consulted.”

“No time for consultations.” He yanked the Wrangler’s door open, tossed her in. He reached into the back and grabbed the bottle of water that had been rolling around back there. “Rinse yourself off.”

She took it gratefully, and poured water into her hands, splashing with it. He grabbed her right sandal and pried it off. Ripped the upper back from the sole and plucked out a flat cluster of wires and circuits.