“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. “Yerclient, 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 stumble back against the wall. “Away wi’ ye, ye traitorous arse. Ne’er darken my door again or I will finish what was begun here.”
“Rhys!”
There was protest and heartbreak in that single word. Rhys steeled himself against it. Against the anguish scoring his heart in turn. He’d trusted too readily. He’d never forgive himself for it.
He turned his back and dabbed at the blood trickling down his bare chest. The sutures had torn from his efforts. So much more than that seemed frayed however.
“Leave while ye can still walk from this place, lad,” Laird told Jack, violence barely contained evident in his strained tone. “Rhys is no’ the only threat to ye here.”
“Please—”
“Leave!” Rhys shouted, spinning on his heel. “If ye value yer life.”
The onlookers gasped collectively. No doubt they’d never seen the potential for murder at such close quarters before. There’d be a dozen witnesses to condemn Rhys should he be provoked further.
“Damn it,” Jack persisted. “I tried to help. I told him you were all leaving soon. I hoped it would dissuade him from his continuing this pursuit.”
Rhys’s hands curled into fists. “Ye only stirred the hornet’s nest, lad. Go ‘ere ye do any more harm to us.”
“No! I can help,” Jack protested. “Please let me make this up to you.”
“Ye cannae.”
“But I know where he is!”
Laird
“The Edinburgh Royal Infirmary is on lockdown following reports of an active shooter on site. News crews and family members surround the hospital this afternoon awaiting news of their loved ones.”
The news reporter on the television screen stood in front of the hospital. In the background of the camera angle, dozens of people huddled behind the police barrier. As many news vans and emergency vehicles with flashing lights filled out the scene. Jameson would be a fool to show his face here again.
Which meant they’d have to take the fight to him.
The newscaster went on, “Early reports have it there is at least one dead, several more injured in the attack. No motive is known at this time. Nor is there news yet of actress Scarlett Thomas who was in the facility at the time of the attack or whether the shooter has been apprehended.”
“He hisnae,” Laird grumbled. “Nor is he likely to be if they dinnae let us oot of here soon.”
