Page 93 of Eight Second Hearts

Above all, that’s the thought that registers loudest. He brought this man here. My dad is the reason this man knows anything about me. He’d promised my help to a crime boss despite knowing how I’d feel about it all. Despite the way I’d looked him in the eye in court and admitted I didn’t know who my father was anymore because it certainly isn’t this man. All of that flickers through my mind in the split second between the gun firing and the moment I know I’m going to die.

I’m shoved sideways brutally, so hard, I go sprawling across the concrete, scraping up my arms. Confusion fills me as I look up at the man now standing in my place, at the way he presses his hand to his stomach while he throws a knife that hits Lennoxin the hand, forcing him to drop his gun. I stare up at him, watch him, as he turns towards me.

Beau grins despite the way blood wells between his fingers. “Couldn’t let my Indie bird get hurt,” he wheezes, and then collapses right in front of me.

I gasp, realizing what had happened, and scramble across the concrete to him, rolling him over so I can put pressure on the bullet wound as quickly as possible. I’ve done this before. I’ve done it in war. But I don’t want to be doing it right now.

I’m not fast enough to dodge a bullet. But Beau Rogers is fast enough. He’s fast enough to shove me out of the way and take the bullet meant for me. He’s fast enough to take the bullet and throw a knife before he collapses.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I mumble as I press my hand to the bullet wound, trying to stop the blood flow like I’d seen the soldiers do in the field over and over again, like I’ve done. I try not to think about how many of those soldiers still died.

“Indie!” I hear my dad shout, but I don’t bother looking up, not until Lennox responds to him.

“Move one more step toward her and I’ll shoot you next,” Lennox threatens him. I glance up and see him stop, see his face crumbling as he steps back in line.

I was right. I don’t know who that man is. He’s certainly not my dad.

At the same time as this happens, I realize that I’m not alone here. I may be the one putting pressure on Beau’s bullet wound, but Ram and Tripp are still at my side. Ram pulls a gun from who knows where and holds it in front of him, his eyes hard.

“You don’t pull a gun unless you intend to use it,” Lennox says, his hand held against his chest while he uses his left hand to hold a gun one of his backup gives him.

“Who says I don’t intend to use it?” Ram growls and gives no other warning. He pulls the trigger and fires at the nearest man in a suit.

Darla screams and takes off running to the barn without a look back. Fuck everyone else, I guess.

Tripp grabs me from behind and starts to drag me away.

“He needs pressure!” I scream. “He’s bleeding out!”

“Get her out of here,” Beau gasps from where he lies on the concrete.

“I’m not leaving him,” Tripp grunts as I fight him. “Get out of the line of fire, scribbler, so I can get him without worrying you’ll get shot, too.”

He shoves me behind his truck wheel, making sure I’m concealed from the gunfire happening on the other side, before he dives back out for Beau. Ram fires slowly, prolonging his bullets while Tripp focuses on getting Beau to safety. He grabs Beau’s arms and with a heave, drags him around the truck. Beau’s shout of pain goes right through me and panic really sets in.

I pull out my phone and dial 911. How far is the nearest emergency room capable of handling a bullet wound to the stomach? It can’t be close. Fuck!

It rings and someone picks up on the other end. “911. What’s your?—”

“Shoot out involving the Crows at Fairview Acres! Bullet wound to stomach that needs immediate attention. We need an airlift,” I shout down the line before dropping the phone. I don’t hang up. I leave it listening as I put pressure on Beau’s wound again, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

“Did that look cool?” Beau rasps, his voice rough with pain. “Was it hot?

“So cool,” I reassure him. “So hot. Now, hold on for me. I need you to hold on.”

He smiles up at me, his eyes bright despite the pain he’s in. “Til death do us part, huh?” he asks. “I’d make those vows to you if you’d let me.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” I growl, my eyes welling. I can’t stop the tears as they start to fall, my panic taking over. Ram still fires at them and bullets still ping against Tripp’s truck and the ground, and all the while, I’m desperately crying over a rodeo clown who flirted too close to death this time.

Beau reaches up and wipes at my cheeks. “Don’t cry for me, Indie bird,” he coos. His face hardens with his next words. “I’ll find you in every lifetime.”

Not a promise. A threat.

His arm goes limp.

“No!” I growl. “You wake up! Beau, wake up!”

“We’ve gotta move!” Tripp growls. “We’re sittin’ ducks if we stay here!”

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