Rhys
“Did ye find her? Is Hermione unharmed?”
The moment he saw Laird burst into the emergency room, Rhys leapt from the treatment table. The nurses stitching his wound protested and made a grab for him but Rhys shook them off.
“Aye. She’s well.” Laird’s expression was grim. “Hugh rescued her from Jameson. Unfortunately he took two bullets in the process. They’re taking him to the surgery to remove the one in his leg. The other passed through the side of his back. Claire and Emmy are waiting there.”
Hugh had been shot? Rhys cursed himself for allowing this calamity to go so far. There was some consolation in the knowledge they were safe, less in knowing he hadn’t been able to prevent what happened.
“And ye?” Laird clasped his uninjured shoulder, concern in his eyes. “Ye look hardy enough.”
“I am. The bullet went through the muscle they said wi’oot greater damage wi’in.” The pain meant nothing to him though. Not in comparison to what had been lost. “Did ye see Scarlett? Did she tell ye?”
“Aye,” Laird said, a wealth of emotion tainting the word. “I swear Halliday’s loss willnae be in vain. He sacrificed his life to protect Scarlett and Hermione. I owe it to him to avenge his death.”
“I’m sorry it wisnae me. It should ne’er hae come to this. My apologies, brother.”
“’Tis no’ yer fault, Rhys,” Laird reassured him. “My bairns are still alive because of yer efforts. I owe my life to ye and Hugh.”
“I disagree.” Rhys hung his head in misery and stopped Laird with a hand on his arm. “I failed ye. I let danger into our midst and failed to protect those we love.”
“Ye dinnae fail.”
The assurance did nothing to soothe Rhys’s regrets. He knew he’d made a serious blunder in not anticipating his enemy’s intent. As a result, blood had been spilled.
Not only his own.
“What next then?” he asked. “I take it Jameson got away?”
Laird’s lip curled. “Aye, he made it to his car before Connor caught up with him. Connor had Hugh’s keys wi’ him this morn, so he’s taken the car to try to find Jameson. He phoned me to let me know what happened. The police are searching as well. I’ve only come for the key to Scarlett’s car ‘ere I join in the hunt.”
“I’m coming wi’ ye.”
“Nay, Rhys. Stay wi’ Scarlett and the bairns. Protect them in case Jameson returns.”
“Ha! I dinnae ken how ye would trus—”
“Rhys!”
All the dejected sorrow his shortcomings stirred in Rhys burned away in a flash. Jack rushed toward him, concern stamped on his features. His feet carried him in that direction, a peculiar sensation Rhys hadn’t experienced in some time knotted his gut.
Most likely it wasn’t the one Jack anticipated.
“I heard shots had been fired here. Are yo—”
Jack’s head snapped to the side under the force of Rhys’s fist with a satisfactory crack that fed the burning rage in Rhys’s heart. Gasps and cries of alarm filled his ears, but Rhys wasn’t done yet. Yanking at Jack’s shirtfront, he jerked him forward and pulled his dagger from its sheath.
Laird’s hands were on Rhys, pulling him away. He wrenched the dagger from his grasp. “What are ye doing?”
Jack fell to the floor and stared up at him with the same question in his eyes. The blood on his lips did nothing to ease Rhys’s anger.
“He should ken well enough what he’s done,” Rhys raged and lurched forward, bent on beating the man unconscious.
Laird bound his arms behind his back and wouldn’t release him despite his struggles. “Calm yerself, brother. What has possessed ye?”
“He deserves it, Laird. I swear it.”
“Rhys!” Jack protested, holding up a hand. “What have I done?”
All around them, patients and staff alike gawked at the spectacle. Rhys didn’t care. About them or the fiery pain in his shoulder. He needed this revenge to purge his own guilt. For what he’d witnessed above stairs.
And for what he hadn’t seen until it was too late.
Never had he felt so ineffectual. He’d done nothing. Saved no one. Their foe had escaped as a result.
“How dare ye show yer face here?” Rhys snarled at the man he’d considered a friend and perhaps even something more. “Ye knowingly brought this danger onto my family. Did I no’ warn ye what would happen to any who did harm to those I love?”
“What?” Jack gasped. “What is this?”
“Jameson!” The name left his lips like the foulest oath. “Yer client, or did ye forget? The moment I saw him up there, I kent what ye’d done. Ye played me for a fool and led that monster to our door. I’ll hae yer blood for it, ‘pon my word!”
He jerked away from Laird again and this time his brother let him go. No doubt he’d like to take his own ounce of flesh from Jack’s hide, but he would have to wait his turn. Rhys bent and hauled Jack to his feet, ready to have at him again. Jack did nothing to defend himself.
“Jameson did this?”
There was enough disbelief in his inquiry to forestall Rhys’s fist. “Aye, Jameson. Well ye kent it. I was a right git bastard no’ to see it. What did he gi’ ye to betray us all?”
“I didn’t! I swear!” Jack held up his hands in surrender. “I mean, he hired me to find out about you, but I thought it was because he was obsessed with Scarlett.” Rhys drew back his fist, anger surging once more. Jack raced on, “But I quit. I swear, once I got to know you. All of you. I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“No’ sorry enough,” Rhys growled and shoved him away, though he took no joy in watching Jack
