When the Dead Speak Bailey Bradford (books on motivation txt) 📖

had been years, but if Laine’s life depended on it—or any of their friends’ lives depended on it—Sev knew he’d do whatever was necessary. He chose his rifle, taking the box of shells Brendon handed him. “Let’s go.”

* * * *

Laine pushed up from the ground and stumbled through the door, one hand pressed to the wound on his shoulder, the other clenched into a tight fist. He wondered how he’d worked around McAlister and never noticed the blank look in the man’s eyes.

“Where’s Rich?”

McAlister shook his head and waved the gun toward the bedroom. “Keep moving, Laine. I’ve waited for you for years.”

“Why me, McAlister? What the—” The gun stilled in McAlister’s hand, aimed at Laine’s heart and making him reconsider his words. He couldn’t let McAlister kill him, not before he got Rich out of here, but he was beginning to lose hope of either of them surviving this.

“Who knows, why you, Laine. Not me. It just was—is.” McAlister surprised him by answering. “At least, this time, I left your lover alone. Why you’d go from a big, attractive man like Conner to a little pretty boy like that is beyond me. Maybe that’s all you could get out here in bumfuck, Texas, huh?”

Laine refused to rise to the bait, seething at being so close to Conner’s killer and unable to do anything. As he passed the spare bedroom, McAlister pointed inside the room.

“There’s Detective Montoya, alive and… I wouldn’t say well, but he is alive, for a little while longer. Probably wishes he were dead, though.”

He saw Rich tied to the bed, naked but covered in so much blood that very little skin showed. Laine stumbled, turning for the door. McAlister waved the gun.

“I don’t think so, Laine. You’ll just have to take my word for it.” He laughed, the sound high pitched and psychotic. Laine grabbed the doorframe and met McAlister’s gaze.

“If he’s dead, I will kill you, no matter how many bullets you put into me.” He saw something shift in McAlister’s gaze, a nervous flicker that belied the man’s calm appearance.

“Brave talk, Laine. I doubt you’d recover from having your brains splattered all over the hallway. Somehow, I’m not worried.”

Laine turned to watch Rich. He saw the man’s chest rise, a slight movement that gave Laine back the hope that had started to slip away. A sudden insight flared in Laine’s mind—McAlister had done this, hurt so many people, killed people, just to have him. He wouldn’t be satisfied with a simple bullet. His smile when he faced McAlister again was tight, a bare thinning of lips.

“That would ruin all your fun, now, wouldn’t it? To hunt me for all these years, then end it in a split second. I don’t think you’d do that.” Laine pushed away from the doorframe, knowing he was right, seeing it in the surprise on McAlister’s face. He lunged for the gun, gripping McAlister’s wrist and smashing it into the wooden trim. The gun went off, a bullet ripping into the wall as they struggled. Laine dug his fingers in deep, twisting and slamming McAlister’s arm against the hard wood again.

The gun fell to the floor, but before Laine could reach for it, McAlister looped an arm around Laine’s neck and began choking him, dragging Laine down the hallway as Laine tried to free himself. Desperation speared through Laine as his vision dimmed, and he bit, tearing at the flesh as he brought a hand up and squeezed McAlister’s balls. An agonized scream pierced the air and Laine was shoved down to the floor, a sharp kick catching him in the ribs, then another landed to his kidneys. Laine tried to work through the pain, dodging another kick as he scrambled across the hall, trying to grab onto the wall, anything to pull himself up.

McAlister delivered another kick, this one under Laine’s arm, right to the armpit, and Laine went down hard. An explosion of sound ricocheted in the house, quickly followed by another, then a third, and McAlister was falling, blood spraying in an arc, turning the hall into a crimson-colored hell.

Laine tried to roll over, his hand slipping in blood, then Sev was there, his face wet with tears, kneeling beside him. Sev’s hands raced over him, and Laine tried to hear the words his lover was speaking, but nothing made sense. His head was spinning, other hands were grabbing at him, pulling him up. He was able to discern that it was Brendon and Zeke helping him before they saw Rich. Then there was a blur of movement and raised voices. Sev’s arms tightened around Laine, holding him up as his knees gave out, the smaller man taking his weight.

“Come on, baby, you’re going to be fine.”

Laine’s ears stopped ringing and Sev’s words finally penetrated the gray wall of unconsciousness that was threatening.

“Sev…” Laine tried to grab Sev’s arm as Sev laid him on the couch, kneeling beside Laine so he could apply pressure to the shoulder wound. Fiery fingers of pain speared out from Laine’s shoulder as Sev pressed harder, and Laine gasped, trying to buck Sev off even though he knew better. Sev brushed a kiss across Laine’s lips, the salty flavor of his tears finding Laine’s tongue. Sirens wailed in the distance, the sound rapidly growing closer.

“Sev, need to tell you…” Laine fumbled for the words, his world tilting and rapidly growing dark.

Sev smiled tremulously, his eyes shining. “I know, Laine, I know. Me too.”

Those words eased the pain and followed Laine into the dark well that swept over him, freeing him from everything but the love of, and for, this one man.

Epilogue

Laine stood beside Rich’s hospital bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his friend’s chest. Machines beeped and whirred, pumping oxygen and fluids into Rich’s body. Sev stood beside Laine, an arm wound around Laine’s waist. Laine’s arm rested on Sev’s shoulders, snugging the man tight to his side. He could feel the strain in Sev’s