Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(31)

Gideon, hands still held high, said, “It’s not just that, Breakiron. It’s a bunch of things. Why don’t we calmly—”

Breakiron’s arm jerked to the side, and he shot. But not at Gideon. He seemed to be shooting in our, my, Allred’s direction. Gideon made an energetic, swift dive to the side. I didn’t know if I was hit or if the report from the gun just made me jump, but I fell off my stool.

Suddenly I was flat on the ground. Everyone seemed to be. Gideon was only about four feet from me, his eyes connected with mine. Fluidly, in one swift motion, he drew a gun from his boot and shot Breakiron right in the throat.

Someone—I later figured out it was Allred—was shrieking like a maniac. He was on the ground too, so I couldn’t tell who was hit or not. I crawled behind the stool as if it would be any protection. It was just an instinctual move, and I looked my dress all over to see if there was any blood. No. Then who had Breakiron hit?

Gideon was standing now, his long arm holding the pistol at his side. He didn’t seem to feel a threat any longer, and he walked over to Breakiron’s prone body and kicked it. Nothing. That guy was deader than disco. His shades had been knocked askew, displaying his glazed, empty eyes. Briefly, I remembered an old western belief that the last thing a dead man had seen would be imprinted on his irises. I wondered if Breakiron had been shooting at me, Allred, or Gideon. Whose face would be seared into Breakiron’s irises? My heart beat so loudly, everything else sounded muffled. My ears rang from the reports of both guns.

“Praise to thee on highest!” shrieked Allred in a high, squeaky voice. He was sitting up now, the sniper rifle across his lap, as though he’d just used it in a combat environment. “The glory of God surrounds us and protects us like a bubble! It is a miracle, I tell you! A miracle! Parley, where are you?”

Gideon immediately squatted by me. Since he was wearing only his leather vest—his cut—over his black wifebeater, it was easy to see he’d been shot in the upper right abdomen, the location of the liver.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?”

“Gideon, you’ve been hit! You need to go to the emergency room.”

Suddenly seeming to hear us, Allred yelled, “He doesn’t need an emergency room! There’s an urgent care just outside of Avalanche.”

I knew that urgent care. It was just a glorified doctor’s office with one MD and one NP, all under the watchful eye of Allred Lee Chiles. I shouted, “No! He needs a real emergency room, Dixie Regional in St. George!” I thought of something. “Allred, he was protecting you from this crazed gunman! Did you see the look in that whack-a-mole’s eyes? He was gunning right for you!”

That was probably true. I still wasn’t sure if Breakiron had been aiming at Allred or me. He might not have the guts to kill a fellow brother of his, but he was obviously a spineless, violent character who would kill a woman or a business associate.

Allred’s eyes grew even rounder. “I knew it! I knew it from the second I heard about that character! He was aiming to take out The Prophet of Cornucopia and become Prophet himself!”

“Well,” said Gideon, “I don’t think that was his—”

“He wanted all the glory for hisself! Well, I’m-a tellin’ him, he ain’t gonna get—”

I shrieked, “He ain’t gonna get nothing anymore, Allred, because he’s dead! And Gideon will be too if we don’t get him to a real hospital!” I shot to my feet, yanking Gideon by the arm. “Come. We’ll go to St. George, to Dixie. Screw this urgent care place. They’re equipped for taking care of nosebleeds and nothing else. I took a boy there once who’d broken his arm and they didn’t even set it properly.”

“Ah, actually.” Gideon tried to stop me. “I’d rather go to urgent care if it’s all right with you. Hospitals are required to report anything they suspect was a result of a crime.”

That stopped me dead in my tracks, too. “Oh.” I wouldn’t want to get Gideon in trouble in any way, shape, or form. I stared dumbly at Allred, still sitting on the floor hugging up his rifle. “I’ll take Gideon to urgent care, then. You and Parley stay here and do what you do best—getting rid of bodies.”

“Let Parley take Gideon,” Allred tried to say.

But I was on top of it. I got my purse from the office and said, “No. I’m taking him, Allred. I’ll get Drakelle and we’ll go together.” Drakelle was the sister-wife with the most nursing training on the outside.

“I command you!” bellowed Allred, but we were already out back staggering through the alley.

Gideon was holding his side. It occurred to me to ask, “Do you think the bullet’s still inside you?”

“I think the bullet’s still inside me. You’re going to be hearing some mighty loud screaming, because I don’t think those people have much in the way of anesthesia.”

“Fuck it,” I said, reverting back to “outsider” lingo. I fumbled for my cell phone inside my purse. Gideon’s arm was draped over my shoulder and I pinned it down with one hand. With the other I punched Kimball’s speed dial. She answered right away. “Kimball. I need you to get my truck, get Drakelle, and come around the back of the book bindery. Immediately. There’s been an accident.”