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Chapter twenty-eight
Daphne
Therewassomuch blood.
That was the first thing I registered after the shock of hearing the gunshot finally wore off.
Blood.
It was sprayed on the side of the house, the fat splatters turning to macabre raindrops as they ran down the faded wood siding.
It was a nightmare scene that I couldn’t seem to blink away, getting worse instead of better every time I closed my eyes.
Finally registering that this blood must have come from somewhere, my brain caught up with my heart and I spun, panicked that what I was seeing was going to end up being Silas’s blood.
Feeling like I was moving in slow motion, I stepped out of the doorway, dropping to my knees and crawling over to where Silas lay prone, the upper half of his body hanging over the edge of the porch. I needed to see him. I needed to touch him and know that it wasn’t his blood—that my worst fear wasn’t coming true before my very eyes.
I raised a shaking hand and placed it on his back, shoving him hard in the ribs.
“Silas!” I hissed. “Silas, are you okay?”
When he didn’t answer, I moved closer, sliding my hand up and over his shoulder.
That was when he finally moved, and I let out a yelp when he suddenly rolled toward me, jackknifing up in front of me.
“No!” he barked at me, grabbing me by both shoulders and stopping me from moving. “Don’t, Daphne. Don’t look.”
But it was too late.
Silas moved his hands to my face, holding me by my cheeks and making me look at him, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t already seen Leroy’s body in the grass.
That I hadn’t already seen the gaping hole in the side of his skull where what was supposed to be inside continued to pour outside, a river of life staining the brown grasses below him.
“Silas,” I sobbed, my emotions too many and too confusing to prevent them from simply overflowing. “Silas, you killed him.”
Not that I was sad, per se. I hadn’t known Leroy more than forty-eight hours, and in that time, he’d done nothing but contribute to my suffering.
I wasn’t ever going to be his friend, but that didn’t mean I had wanted him dead.
“You killed him,” I repeated, still not really processing it.
“Daphne, look at me.”
Blinking rapidly, I raised my eyes to Silas’s face, seeing for the first time the spray of red across his flush cheeks.
“Oh, God!” I cried, reaching for him, but he pulled his head away. “You’re hurt!”
“No, Daph,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not mine. None of it is mine.” He grimaced, glancing down at his wounded thigh. “Well, I guess some of it is.”
I felt like my heart was going to explode in my chest. He was alright. Holy smokes, he was alright.
It seemed that every time I managed to get Silas back into my life, something happened to make me lose him again. But this time, losing him had the potential to be pretty freaking permanent, and I wasn’t prepared for how the prospect of that would make me feel.
Because I loved Silas Harrison.
With everything I had in me, for as long as I could remember, I had loved him.
Losing him again was not an option.
I would fight for us, even if he wouldn’t.
“Daphne,” he whispered, his thumbs rubbing soothing arcs over my cheekbones. “Daph, I didn’t kill him.” I frowned in confusion, and he went on. “I never even pulled the trigger.”
“Then,” I could feel my stomach dropping as the implications of what Silas was saying really sank in. “Who shot him?”
“I did.”
Silas moved fast, raising his gun and pointing it at a man walking slowly toward us.
A man I recognized.
“Duke!” I called, scrambling to stand. “Silas, wait. That’s Duke.”
Duke raised his hands, showing he had no weapon, and stopped walking.
“What the fuck do you want?” Silas growled, still trying to shield me with his body, even though he was still sitting.
“I ain’t gonna hurt you. I was—” Duke swallowed thickly, glancing at the body laying in the grass. “I was tryin’ to help.” He looked at me, and I could see remorse in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here, lady. I didn’t... I mean, this ain’t what I signed up for. Grabbing two girls off the street ain’t good business.”
“What, one kidnapping’s okay, but you draw the line at two.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Duke said, slowly lowering his arms. “Davis, I’ve known him since we were kids. We used to run the streets together, minor shit, you know? Dealing some pot, stolen goods. That kind of thing.” He frowned. “Nothing like this.”
Watching him speak, I could see that it really bothered him, and if I was being honest, I had sort of gotten that feeling I all my dealings with Duke. I could tell that for all his gruff demeanor and angry scowls, he really didn’t want to be here, doing the things Davis made him do.
My heart went out to the guy on some level.
On another level, he had participated in my kidnapping and unlawful confinement, so...
“You need to go,” Duke continued, the urgency in his voice reminding me that Davis could probably be back any minute. “I’ll take care of this”—he jerked his chin at the body laying between us—“but you both need to leave. Now.”
“Daphne,” Silas spoke slowly, never taking his eyes—or his gun—off of Duke. “Is there a first aid kit in there anywhere?”
Before I could answer, Duke called out, “Under the kitchen sink.”
Darting inside, I hauled open the cabinet door, seeing the clearly marked bag exactly where he said it would be. Snatching it up, I stood, but turned back when I spotted a brand-new bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter next to the fridge, so I grabbed that too.
I was back in a flash, kneeling down beside Silas and bending over his thigh.
“There’s so much blood, Si,” I whispered.
“I can take a look,” Duke offered, but Silas shook his head.
“You can stay right the fuck there.”
Unzipping the red bag, I dug around inside, trying to find the tools I would need for this job. Laying out a thick roll of gauze and some white medical tape, uncapped the whiskey, pouring a liberal amount over the area. Silas hissed softly, twisting his torso so he could see what I was doing and still keep an eye on Duke, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Smart thinking, Princess,” Silas whispered, and I raised my eyes to his, seeing a softness there I had missed so much over the last two years. Blinking hard and ignoring the pang in my chest at the endearment, I dropped my gaze back to the matter at hand. Seeing a fresh welling of blood on the wound, I splashed some more whiskey on his leg, then raised the bottle to my lips and gulped down a healthy swallow, ignoring Silas’s raised eyebrows as I did.
It burned like fire going down, and I was forced to let out a small cough, but I felt emboldened enough to be able to grasp the hole in Silas’s split pant leg and yank it open so I could see what I was working with.
“It’s not so bad,” Silas said lightly, and I barked out a sarcastic laugh.
“Sure, if you’re sashimi,” I muttered, inspecting the wound. He was right, it wasn’t so bad. Only about two inches long, but deep enough that I could see the meat of his thigh, since the knife had sliced clean through the outside of his leg. He hadn’t been stabbed so much as sliced from the outside, and because of that, it looked like anything important had been missed.
“Take the gauze, Daphne, and press it to the cut.” Silas directed me, talking me through step, as I covered, then wrapped, then taped his leg. Once I had covered the area as best as I could with what I had on offer, Silas nodded, then spun around and slid off the porch and into the grass, keeping his weight on his good leg as much as possible.
Then Silas insisted on taking a look at the cut on my backside, and I could feel my cheeks burning up as he looked at my butt, his fingers ghosting softly over the flesh as he cleaned and dressed my wound as diligently as I had his.
“You two have some way to get out of here?” Duke asked, having watched silently as we worked.
“Don’t worry about us,” Silas grunted, his jaw clenching in pain as he took a tentative step forward. “She’s not your business anymore.”
Duke just nodded. “Good. Go on, then.”
