Donell sighed. “There will always be men like you, Phillip. Men who try to hold back the future. I hae rectified the wrong. All is well.”
“For now, perhaps. But they are a blight on humanity. I will not stop trying to wipe them off the face of the earth. Before they spawn further.”
“’Tis already happened, Phillip.”
Jameson fumed in impotent rage. Aye, there was nothing he could do to stop Donell. It was time he accepted it. Moved on. Donell would reset the timeline as often as necessary to maintain the new peace.
Even if his own heart was broken a thousand times over in the process.
“Let me take ye somewhere, far away from here, lad,” Donell urged. “Somewhere of yer choosing. A place ye might find peace and happiness again. Before it’s too late. Yer quest is a futile one. Nae matter what ye do, I will be there to set it to rights.”
“Who will see to that if you’re dead?”
Scarlett
Scarlett stared at the motel room door, her insides knotting with nerves and uncertainty. The solemn peal of the Canongate Toll Booth Clock rang out in the distance to mark the hour.
Bong.
Each strike like a death knell in her heart. If Laird wouldn’t accept it was a no-win situation, then she’d have to do what Captain Kirk did.
Cheat.
Take out Jameson before he could hurt anyone else. Including Laird. Laird would be wrong in thinking she wanted Jameson’s blood for herself. She wanted the madman punished, yes, but more than retribution, she wanted to ensure not a drop of her husband’s blood hit the ground.
She couldn’t bear to lose him after all she’d lost today. The way Laird talked, his intention might as well have been to be a sacrificial lamb.
Dong.
Scarlett wouldn’t have it.
It was her turn to take care of her family. No matter what Laird said, she knew it had to be her. He might consider her his responsibility, but he was hers as well. It could not be solely his job to see to their safety.
It was hers, as well.
Easier said than done, though.
Whatever she’d told Tyrone about the direction of her moral compass, no deviation she’d ever made from true north had been so perilous.
Beyond this door lay a psychopath who’d shown no remorse in murdering innocent people. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her either.
Unlike this morning, she planned to shoot back.
Scarlett dug into her purse for her gun. Nothing. Confusion froze her in place for a moment. Opening the bag wide, she dug through the contents, certain she’d missed it in her search.
But no. It wasn’t there.
Now what? Return to the hospital with her head hung low? Wait to be chastis—
Scarlett jumped, a quiver ricocheted through her chest. A gunshot sounded from inside the room. Where Jameson was supposedly alone. Fear spiked like shards of ice through her veins and adrenaline followed like a jolt of electricity. What if someone had gotten there prior to her arrival?
What if…?
Before she knew it, she’d opened the door.
Bong.
Like watching a film in slow motion, Scarlett saw Donell bow over, clutching his stomach. Fall to his knees. To his side. He hit the floor with a muffled thud. Those blue eyes always so full of life and mischief peered up at her, dull and gray.
