Rules of Protection(96)

“She won’t be alone,” he said, propping Floss against the nearest tree and handing her the shotgun. “Shoot anybody who comes within a hundred yards,” he said, making my eyes widen.

Floss grinned through the pained expression on her face. “You didn’t think the shotgun was for looks, did you?”

Cowboy’s gaze caught mine again, and my eyes pleaded with him. “Oh, come on. Stop looking at me like that. It’s not like I want to leave her. Floss has a bad break. I won’t be able to carry her without hurting her. I’m going to get you to safety, then come back for her.”

“You two quit fussing over me and get a move on,” Floss ordered, grimacing. “I’ll be fine.”

Cowboy grabbed my gun and placed it in Floss’s lap. She started to protest. “We still have my gun,” he told her. “Reloading the shotgun takes too much time, and this will give you more ammunition until I come back. I’ll sound a bird call before approaching.”

“You better, or I’m liable to blow a hole clear through you,” Floss said, her voice wavering. She gritted her teeth together. “Now, you two get out of here before I decide to tan your hides for not minding your elder.”

I hugged her quickly before Cowboy grasped my arm and sprinted off in near darkness, towing me behind him. If walking through the woods barefoot during the day was dangerous, then running through them at night—even with shoes—was damn near suicidal. I couldn’t see the ground. And the risk of falling only worsened by the numerous branches and vines grabbing at me.

Once I caught a bitter whiff of thick black mud and the pungent scent of algae, I knew we were close to the pond. We traveled along the tall weeds at the water’s edge, then ducked behind a cypress tree. Cowboy scoped out the moonlit clearing where I had fallen into the water once before. We had to cross it if we wanted to get to the fence line, but he had reservations.

“Stay here,” Cowboy said.

He sprinted across the opening, but didn’t get ten feet when the sound of a gunshot rang out. His body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

“NO!” Not thinking, I ran toward him, but stopped dead in my tracks as a man came out from behind a tree.

As he got closer, the moon lit up his face more clearly, and I recognized him from the club and the photos Jake had shown me at the police station. It was Frankie Felts’s cousin, Arnold. He held a dark, sinister-looking gun on me that matched the grin on his face.

“My cousin has been looking for you.” Arnold grabbed me roughly by the back of my hair. “It’s time for you to—”

We heard the growl at the same time.

A flash of white leaped through the air and latched onto his arm, snarling and biting. Thrown to the ground at the bank, I scrambled to my feet as Arnold got a shot off. The bullet hit Dog in his side and knocked him to the ground. He tried unsuccessfully to get up again. Arnold was poised over him with his shooting arm torn up, dripping blood, as he readied himself to shoot Dog again.

I screamed incoherently and barreled into Arnold from behind, knocking him into the pond with a large splash. He surfaced, his gun no longer in his hand. Pissed, he swore at me, threatening me with all the different ways he’d kill me when he found a way out of the water.

I ran straight to Cowboy, who wasn’t moving, and kneeled beside him. He was lying on his side, something dark and wet dripping from his hair onto the dried, cracked mud. He had taken a bullet in the head. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

Then something touched my arm. Stunned, I instinctively flailed to protect myself and hit something solid.

“Ow,” Cowboy said softly, followed by a groan.

I covered my mouth. “Y-you’re alive?”

“You prefer something different?” He touched the side of his head and winced. “Jake would kill me if I died while babysitting you.” He groaned and tried to get up.

I pushed him back gently, which didn’t take much effort in his weakened state. “Don’t get up, idiot. You’ve been shot in the head.”

“You don’t have to worry,” he said, moaning and closing his eyes. “It hurts too much to do it again.” His eyes cut toward the curse words echoing from the pond. “What’s that?”

“Dog attacked the man who shot you, and when he shot Dog, I knocked him into the pond.”

Cowboy grinned crookedly.

“What?” I asked.

“You risked your life for Dog, but you let me get shot?”

“Let you? I didn’t know you were—”

We heard a rush of water and Arnold’s choking scream as something pulled him under. The surface of the pond boiled and bubbled in chaos, then slowly went still as small ripples lapped at the sides of the bank.

“Jesus.”

“No. Charlie,” Cowboy said, closing his eyes again.

“I need to get you help. Tell me what to do.”

He quietly thought to himself while I listened to his labored breathing. “You won’t be able to find your way through the woods in the dark. Not by yourself, anyway. CB radio in my truck. If you can get to it, you can put out a call for help. Ox and Judd both monitor the channel it’s on.”

Cowboy’s gun had landed on the ground near his body. I laid it on his chest and put his hand on top of it. “I’ll be back.”