Edgar’s mouth opens and closes like a fish desperate for air, and then he drops to his knees. His handcomes up to his neck, but it is far too late to stop the bleeding. Even if an entire surgical staff wasstanding in the room, they wouldn’t be able to help him.
In a few more pumps, he will have lost most of the blood in his body.
A few weak pumps after that, and he’ll be dead.
I feel a sick pride. Even if they kill me now, at least I’ll have fulfilled my promise.
I step back to avoid the blood pooling on the wood floor, and Arnold McGowan yells and jumpsback. “What in the f**k did you do?”
The SUVs are lined up in the grass outside the inn, and men I recognize—men without masks on—aremoving towards the inn, guns raised.
I move to step out onto the porch, but there is
