Bile rises in my throat and my stomach threatens to empty. But another bullet pinging off the wooden pile just inches from my face scares me into action and has me speeding around to take cover.
Somehow, Archer’s spare gun remains in my hand. The Malone brothers shout instructions; at each other, at the remaining guards. Fletch points and ends one of Felix’s men’s lives. Then Archer turns on me.
His eyes are like nothing I’ve ever known. The rage in them, terrifying when he points my way.
He stares for what feels like an eternity.
He aims, even as my breath races and my heart burns.
And then he shoots.
I crush my eyes shut and duck my head low. I wait for the pain. For the electricity under my skin and the tearing of my flesh. But then a body drops just inches from mine and sends wafts of dust into the air.
“Stop.” I say it quietly. Shakily, as I choke on dust, and a spray of blood splashes across the side of my face. Then I say it again, louder. “Stop!” Making my way to my feet, I stumble as I try to catch my balance. “Archer, stop—”
He turns back to me, to meet my eyes and step in my direction to grab me, but then the final remaining guard sets his gun to Archer’s temple, and my lungs cease to exist.
Air traps itself inside my body and refuses to move.
“Wait!” Felix’s voice is the loudest, the most dominant, as he pushes to his feet and wipes a trail of blood from his lip. “Coran,” he raises his hands, as if surrendering to his own man. “I said stop.”
“He killed Pietro!” Coran is larger than Felix. Angrier. And, it would seem, no longer willing to follow instructions. “He killed him!”
“And I’ll kill you,” Felix threatens, “if you pull that trigger.”
“He killed my brother!” Coran snaps, loud enough to make me jump. “We came asking for peace, and now my brother is gone.”
“I’ll kill you too,” Archer sneers. He remains still. Statue-like and unmoving. But his eyes follow me. His stare, demanding I stop moving. “Put the gun down, Coran. I’ve belted you before. I’ll do it again.”
“Shut up!” the man screeches. “Shut the fuck up!”
“You will die,” Felix argues. “If you kill him, your body will never be found.”
“He doesn’t get to hurt my brother!” Tears make Coran’s eyes swim. “You said there would be no bloodshed.”
“If there was no intention to shed blood,” I take another step forward, even as Archer’s face twists with rage, “then you shouldn’t have come at all. If you wanted no bloodshed, then you wouldn’t have brought a gun to a friendly discussion.”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Fast as a whip, he brings the gun around and points it at me instead.
But Archer is faster. Meaner. So he turns and slams his fist against Coran’s arm.
The guard’s shot goes off, a bullet sizzles through the barrel and out the end. Then for the second time in as many minutes, I close my eyes and wait for the fire.
But it doesn’t come.
“Archer!” Tim sprints forward, knocking Coran off-balance and slamming his fist into the side of the man’s face.
Knuckles break bones. Blood spurts free. Two men crash to the dirt and wrestle for the right to live.
Panicked, I search the dust and desperately try to make sense of what’s happening. My head bleeds, and my vision swirls, but through the mess, I stop to find Archer’s gaze staring deep into mine.
His face is pale. His left hand dangles weakly, while his right still clutches his gun.
Before I can suck in enough oxygen to refill my lungs, Archer drops to his knees, and then to his ass. Too tired to stand, too broken to remain on his own feet. A long dribble of blood oozes through a bullethole on his left shoulder as he sways and threatens to fall.
“Archer!” I sprint the distance between us and catch his head just as he topples. I cushion the blow when his skull hits the ground, then I twitch every time Tim’s fist slams against Coran’s face in my peripherals.
“Archer! What the hell did you do?” I shove my jacket off with shaky hands and tear the sleeve free, breaking my nails and blinding myself with tears when they build, build, build and fill my eyes. “You didn’t have to do that!”