I kept behind Tyler and hiked up my skirt, releasing my gun from the holster and arming it.
“Morgan, let her go.” Tyler probably intended for me to stay behind him, but I couldn’t do it. Not only did it make him an unnecessary target, but I’d promised to protect him in front of a dozen wardens. If he died when I could have done something, it would look as if I couldn’t protect my people, and Mercedes, Nolan and Brigit would be in more danger than they were now.
I stepped out from behind the detective, my weapon raised and ready. Morgan’s was leveled on me. I’d never seen her shoot, but I was confident I was a better marksman. At least I would tell myself that as long as I needed to in order to get me and my people out of here alive.
My gaze cut to Desmond’s form lying in an ever-growing pool of blood.
The assassins looked uncertain. Their job, of course, was to kill me. But they were all otherwise occupied by my gun-toting wedding guests.
“It didn’t have to happen like this,” Morgan said. “I wanted to get you alone, but the fucking lieutenant had to screw it all up to play the hero.”
I couldn’t think about Desmond right then or I risked losing it entirely. “You came for me. Let her go.”
“Put your gun down.”
I laughed then, short but loud. “You must think I’m an idiot. No, this isn’t going to be that kind of debate, Morgan. You let her go, then we talk. Just us girls.”
Morgan glanced from me to all the extra weapons she hadn’t been anticipating.
“If I let her go, they’ll shoot. We walk out of here alone, and then I’ll let her go.”
“Secret,” Keaty said, his tone calm and level. “I can get a shot.”
“Odds?”
“Sixty-forty.”
I coughed. Sixty percent odds he’d take Morgan out without hitting Kimberly. And that depended on the wedding planner holding still and Morgan not moving her once the shot was fired.
“Not the best odds.”
“Better than Vegas.”
Kimberly was staring at me. Her fake lashes had come unglued from all the crying she’d been doing and were stuck to her cheeks like spiders in a river of smeared eyeliner.
If I could do this without anyone dying, I would.
“No dice, Keaty. Sorry.”
He didn’t respond one way or the other, but he also didn’t take the shot. I kept my gun up and moved across the platform until my shoes were sticky with Desmond’s blood and I was standing beside him again. I dropped to a crouch, my gaze never drifting from Morgan, and fumbled until my fingers found his throat.
For a full minute I felt nothing but cold flesh and a day’s worth of stubble.
This was it. The dream I’d had in which Lucas demanded to know what I’d done while Desmond lay bloody and dying. I was living it in Technicolor now, right down to my blood-splattered gown. I’d seen it coming all along, but I’d thought it was symbolic. I’d never once dreamed it would become real. Not like this.
My guts bottomed out, and tears I hadn’t been able to cry over Lucas’s betrayal came easily now. Nothing. Nothing. And then…
Faint, and so, so slow I thought I imagined it. But there it was, and once I felt it twice, three, four times, I knew I wasn’t fooling myself.
Desmond was still alive.
A relieved gasp worked its way out of my mouth, and I dragged the back of my free hand under my eyes to wipe off the tears.
“Okay,” I told her. “We go.”
“Secret, no.” This from Tyler.
“As soon as I go, you get him to Rain Hotel. Melvin the desk clerk is a were. He’ll know where to take him. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. You save him, do you understand me?” I couldn’t look at him without taking my eyes off Morgan, but I needed to hear him agree. “Do you understand?”