Anything He Wants: The Betrayal(18)

I snapped my head back, catching my skull against his nose and mouth. The impact again stunned me, but his grip loosened and I rolled sideways away from him. Our eyes met as his good arm raised up, pointing the gun directly at me.

Then the back of his head exploded, and he collapsed back to the asphalt.

Body quaking, I struggled for breath but couldn’t take my eyes off the grisly sight. Hysterics threatened, sobbing breaths forcing themselves from my lips as I pushed myself upright, chest aching from where his elbow had impacted. Tears, however, didn’t come; a pervasive numbness overwhelmed me and all I could do was stare at the slack face of the assassin, the hole in his skull, and the…the mess behind his head. I think I’m going to be sick.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, staring at the bloody mess before me, before I heard car tires approaching our location. Too numb to move my head, I nevertheless watched dark sedans and SUVs move in, surrounding us on the narrow waterway road. People exited the vehicles, milling about the scene and wearing the familiar dark uniforms I’d seen for nearly a week now. None of Jeremiah’s people approached me, although one man did gently pick up the remote that had skittered out of the assassin’s hand when he’d been shot. As much as I wanted to say something, tell them what it was, I couldn’t take my gaze off the assassin’s face, the man’s expression forever frozen in astonishment.

An unfamiliar whooping sound drew closer, and I finally turned my head to see a helicopter appear through the fog over the water. A tall man stood on one of the skids, and as it approached land’s edge he leaped off, landing effortlessly and running straight toward me. The long rifle hooked across his shoulders bounced with his loping gait, and when he came abreast of me he fell to his knees and immediately folded me into his arms.

My body shook, the action uncontrollable and fierce, and a sob burst its way out as I finally gave way to the emotions I’d kept bottled inside. I clung to Jeremiah as he picked me up gently, keeping me pressed firmly against his body, and loaded us inside one of the waiting SUVs.

The ride home was quiet, for which I was eternally grateful. Jeremiah kept me on his lap, his hands caressing my back and arms in a rhythmic pattern that helped calm me. There was no demand in his touch; perhaps a touch of possessive protection but I desperately needed that form of safety. The earlier numbness had worn off but I was too tired to cry or scream. All I wanted was to curl up in a dark room, safely away from society, and try to forget the past several hours.

My brain, however, kept reliving horrible scenes: the guard dying in front of me at the house, Anya’s final moments, Celeste’s wails as she was carried away to a safety I’d been denied, the assassin’s head exploding in a splash of gore. When I’d found a drop of what I thought was blood on one sleeve while in the SUV with Jeremiah, I’d almost gone crazy trying to strip out of the contaminated clothing. Only Jeremiah’s deep voice, his hard hands deftly peeling the offending layers from me, kept me from falling into the hysterics in which I so desperately wanted to indulge.

Any hope of solitude, however, was dashed when I saw the vehicles lining the front of the mansion, unfamiliar shapes and uniforms standing guard at the entrance. I whimpered when Jeremiah’s car door opened, not wanting to be in the middle of yet another circus, but only clung to his neck as he carried me out of the vehicle. His lips grazed my ear, breath warm along my skin as he asked, “Can you walk on your own?”

The urge to answer no, to stay safely against him as long as possible, was a strong temptation. I nodded, however, a spark of independence goading me to take control of myself. Jeremiah still didn’t release me for several more seconds as we walked through the unfamiliar crowd, then he gently set me to my feet once we were inside the entryway. I teetered for a moment, keeping my grip tight on his arm, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Who are these people?” I said finally, clearing my throat. My voice sounded thick to my own ears, likely due to my earlier crying.

“They’re government officials, here to take my brother into custody.”

Jeremiah’s lips were a thin line and I couldn’t tell whether or not he approved, but the idea of Lucas going to jail was disheartening. In the lobby, the scarred man was staring at a nearby body bag, a tired look on his face. Lucas’s gaze followed the body as two men in Coroner uniforms hefted it up and eased it outside, then he looked up at me. Relief flashed in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re safe, my dear,” he said, giving me a small nod. “There are already too many casualties in this debacle.”