Page 103 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
“Huck!” I shout, surging forward.
Sean hits David at the same time. He doesn’t shoot. He’s smarter than that in a room this crowded. He slams into him like a missile, fist into throat, knee into ribs. David staggers, but he holds the gun, flailing, firing wild. Something burns across my forearm. I crash into David’s side, grab his wrist, twist. His scream cuts through the dark. The pistol clatters across tile. I kick it under a sofa, far from his reach.
Sean snarls, his fists a blur. “You son of a bitch!”
Adrenaline burns my veins raw. I shove David against the tiles, my forearm across his jaw. He thrashes, spitting curses. I hear my own voice rise, ragged and furious. “You don’t put your hands on kids or women! Ever!”
Sean drives another punch into David’s gut, folding him over. He wheezes, tries to spit something back, but Sean crushes thesound with another blow. Something crunches, and David goes down.
Behind me Bailey cries out. I spin my head. Huck is on one knee, Bailey clutching him, her hands pressed to his chest. Blood seeps fast through her fingers, a dark flower blooming against his shirt. “I’m fine,” Huck grits out, voice wet. He coughs, red bubbling at his lips. “Just a flesh wound.”
He’s lying. I can hear it in the gargle of his words. But he still holds her with his good arm, still pushes her back, still keeps himself between her and the chaos. She shoves him onto the floor, still pressing her hand to his wound hard. “You are not fine! Stay still!”
David tries to surge again, but Sean plants a boot on his chest, pinning him. My hands shake with rage, and I want to end him right here, to shut him up forever. The room is still pitch-black except for the flicker of the fire and the ghost-green view through my goggles. I rip them off and turn on the lights. I want David to see my eyes when I look at him like prey.
I want to kill him. Every fiber in me screams for it. To finish it here, to end the threat permanently. My gun’s in my hand before I realize it. I’m staring down the barrel at the man who earned a bullet.
But a sound cuts through the fog. Bailey’s sob.
She’s crouched over Huck, her hands crimson to the wrist. Blood slicks up her arms, soaking the front of her shirt. Huck’s face is pale, his jaw clenched, teeth bared against the pain. He’s trying to speak, but now every word is a gargle, a bubble of red.
Sean cuts in. “Move the gun, Wes. We’re not killing David. The law will have a field day with him. You wanted him ruined. You’ll have it.”
But it’s not enough.
I whirl to Friedburg. My pistol is steady, barrel leveled at his head. “You did this. You set this in motion. It’s all your fault!”
He’s pressed against the wall, eyes wide, hands lifted. “Wait! Please! I didn’t know!”
I snap the muzzle toward him. My rage doesn’t care that he’s old, that his hands shake. “You knew he was coming here. Yougaveher to him. What kind of sick fuck does that?”
He blanches, sweat gleaming on his forehead. “I thought—it was just divorce, messy divorce. He told me he loved her. Said he wanted his family back. I thought I was helping them both!”
“You let him bring a gun into your house,” I spit. “That’s on you.”
“Wes!” Bailey’s voice cuts through, sharp but trembling. “He didn’t know!” She’s shaking her head, her face streaked with tears and blood. “He thought it was a normal divorce. He didn’t know what David did to me. Or to the kids. Don’t hurt him.”
But I want someone to blame. I need it. My finger tightens on the trigger anyway. Friedburg takes a step back, bumping the bookshelves, the fear in his eyes naked now. He let this happen. The world narrows to his quivering face.
Sean mutters, “Not him, Wes.”
“Wesley, please.” Bailey’s voice cracks. “Help me with Huck.”
Right. He’s bleeding out.
A strange haze hits in the fog of battle. Even now, when there isn’t much of one. It’s hard to think like a civilian, like someone with a soul. But if he didn’t know…
I lower the gun. My arm shakes with the effort.
Sean keeps David pinned, grinding his face into the tile every time he tries to lift it. David coughs blood, sputters, still trying to twist the narrative even with his teeth loose. “She lies—she lies?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sean growls and slams him back down.
The sirens are close now. Staff must have called. Red and blue flicker against the windows, faint at first, then growing, strobing across the room as vehicles pull up the drive.
Medics burst in first, their kits already open. Two drop to Huck, pushing Bailey aside, snapping gloves as they peel her fingers away from the wound. Blood pours anew when her hands lift, and she gasps, covering her mouth.
“How bad?” I demand, crouching beside them.
