Page 86 of Boneyard HEA

While she holds up her hands, I shuffle through the keys, trying them until one key works, and I slip off the cuffs, gingerly due to that bandaged finger stump, then I cup her cold hands in mine.

I bite my lip. “What do I do now? I’m shit at empathy.”

Georgia snorts. “You’re not.” She pulls away her hands, eyes the blood and icky stuff I’ve wiped onto her, then wipes it off on the floor.

I nudge the spear where it lies. “If you want a go?”

That makes her bury her face while she snort-laughs into her hands. “Oh my. Fuck. Fuck.” She sniffs a few times, gathering her composure. “You weren’t wrong about the shit empathy.”

I have to laugh at that. I wave her on. “And?”

“Umm.” She frowns at the spear. “No, thanks, but you keep at it if you want to. I’m glad they’re dead but what about him?” She nods toward Karsten. “And how do we get out of here?”

Time to stop indulging my fury. I rise and give Shawn a final kick. “Let’s go talk.”

I’m going to give Zasha a nice hard boot in the back as I pass him.

31

Tomás

I nudge Zasha with my foot. Dead, of course. He’d need a second brain to be still alive after that headshot. Karsten is keeping off to the side, but I collect the weapons strewn beside the Russian before I go to where Aaron is helping Rafael check himself for damage. Aaron has removed his cuffs—must’ve found the key on Zasha. Rafael has stripped off his vest and opened his shirt, wincing as he pokes his ribs.

I squat next to him, deposit the shotgun on the floor, pull off my helmet and mask, then my goggles. Rafael nods to me. He looks in pain and badly bruised. One shirt sleeve is torn, but I get a thumbs up.

“Tough guy, you fucked up that throw.” I grin to soften it. “Broken a few ribs?”

He coughs. “Maybe. Bruising mostly. I only have a few pieces scraped off my arm. Next time you come in at ground level. That doorway, they almost caught me placing the charge.”

Which is when Aaron realizes who I am—he only glanced at me before. He’s frozen, his mouth open.

“It’s me, and I’m sorry about you know what.” I place my rifle before him, gesture at it.

“What’s that for?”

“Just in case you want to shoot me. Would you like a knife instead?”

He shakes his head, eyes closing. “Fuck you. Come here.” Then he drags me in and slaps my back, his arms are around me, and I swear he sobs before he pulls away.

“Ouch. That asshole kicked me a few times. Got bruises on my bruises.” He swipes at his eyes.

I let him pretend to be hurt enough for those welling tears. Whatever happened here is as bad as anything I’ve seen, minus the piles of corpses of the innocent.

“Now you can explain. Why, Tomás? Juniper gave me all sorts of theories. Did you know?”

She’s arrived with the other woman in tow. I give them both a nod and check Karsten is staying back. He isn’t, so I wave him away. We need to figure out this whole situation, but we have time.

I stand up as Rafael gets to his feet. Aaron rises.

“I knew something was off, that they couldn’t be wanting you dead just to frame me. Or not enough to really do it, I thought. The gun, I couldn’t be sure. I tried a press check, but the light was bad. I took a chance. I didn’t see I had a choice.”

“I see. Shoot me and hope it was empty, or else they’d kill you? Well…want to pick up all this crap?” He switches topics like it meant nothing, indicates the weapons and eyes Karsten.

I nod and wait. I can see he has more to say. He’s frowning, studying the bloodbath, two men dead, one slightly mashed by the spear, blood on the walls, plaster pieces chewed from it, here and there. Smoke and its smell lingers.

“I guess I don’t care if you weren’t sure. I understand. It was shit situation.” Finally, he locks his focus on me. “And fuck, I’m so grateful you came for us.”

A weight lifts off me. True friendship—when you can see the other man’s side after he almost killed you.