Anything He Wants: The Betrayal(13)
Apparently the gunman didn’t like being made a fool.
“Go,” Jeremiah said softly, pushing to my feet and propelling me toward the entryway less than ten feet away. He shielded me with his body as we ran the short distance to the relative safety of the main lobby of the house. Lucas came through not long behind us, bloody hands hanging stiffly at his side.
Georgia was at the far end of the lobby, one guard holding her in place. The frantic expression on her face melted as both her sons came through the door, but she paled when she saw the blood on Lucas. Wresting her arm out of the guard’s grip, she moved toward her eldest son, jaw moving in helpless shock, only to have him lift a hand to stop her. “It’s not mine,” he said. There wasn’t any emotion in his voice. Anya’s death must have burned it out of him, at least for the moment.
Uncertainty marred the older woman’s face, clearly debating what to do. I wondered what she would do, perhaps try to mend the relationship with a hug, but her personality won out. Her chin went up as the arrogant mask clamped down hard, and it occurred to me the whole family hid parts of themselves from the world as if showing any true emotion would allow others to use it against them. And perhaps that’s what happened in the past.
Ethan came through the front door, flanked by another guard with a cell phone to his ear. “We’ve got generator power back on but it’s going to take a while to fix the mess with the main power lines,” he said. “There are three wounded outside, emergency medical is en route.”
“We have casualties in here, too, with at least one dead. Get all the wounded upstairs and coordinate to make sure everyone gets attention.” Jeremiah put a hand on each of my shoulders, then pushed me toward Ethan. “Take care of her and my brother, there’s no time to waste.”
“Sir?”
“We need to find that sniper now before he disappears again.” He looked at me. “Stay with Ethan; do whatever he tells you.”
I had to force myself to release his arm. The urge to try holding him back in the safety of the house was strong, but somehow I knew it wouldn’t stop him. He needed this, to be back in the trenches hunting the bad guy. That he was the ultimate target didn’t matter to Jeremiah, I could see it in his eyes. So instead of protesting, I swallowed back my fears and said, “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
His manner softened at my words, whether in relief or something else. He kissed the top of my head as the wounded guards were brought inside. “I’ll be back for you, I promise,” he murmured, then headed out the door.
“Take them upstairs,” Ethan ordered, and the remaining guards moved up the staircase with the wounded.
“Great,” Lucas muttered, staring woodenly at the floor, “I have Captain America babysitting me. Whoop-de-freaking—”
Ethan spun around in front of me, his fist exploding across Lucas’s face, sending the man to the ground in a crumpled heap. “I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Ethan said under his breath.
I stared down at the scarred man in dismay. “Did you really have to do that?” I asked, moving forward to see if Lucas was okay. “He wasn’t any threat…”
A hand wrapped around my head, clapping a cloth over my mouth. Startled, I struggled, opening my mouth to scream but instead breathed in a sickly sweet aroma. Almost immediately the room spun, and I heard Ethan mumble a soft, “I’m sorry for this,” as my legs gave out and I was lowered to the floor.
I’ve heard that phrase too much tonight, was my last thought before losing consciousness.
My dream was weird: I couldn’t tell, even within the context of the subconscious fantasy, whether I was flying or falling through the air. Clouds whipped past me, the ground far away like I’d only ever seen from inside an airplane. Something was in my arms, perhaps the reason for my descent, but I wasn’t afraid. The ground drew ever closer, yet I felt entirely content with the whole situation, although I had no idea why.
The real-world feel of somebody rummaging through my pockets popped me out of the dream state. Sudden vertigo made my head swim, remnants of the dream perhaps, before I realized we actually were moving and that I was lying on my side. My hands were tied against my lap in front of me, my feet were similarly bound, and I was precariously perched across the backseat of an unknown car. When I tried to sit up, I also discovered that I was tied down by seatbelts, the thick straps pulling me back onto the warm leather.