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A sneering smile came to the man’s face with a laugh that spurted up blood droplets that splattered across his cheek.
Rune leaned further down, his voice uncannily calm, comforting as his fingers left the man’s face. “This is salvation speaking. Think of the one person you love. The one. This is your chance to see them again. Your last chance. Salvation. Who do you work for? Who is after the box?”
A breath held—held for so long it could have been his last—and then the man parted his lips. “Hoppler. But it don’t matter—ye can’t touch Hoppler. No one can.” A sputtered cough, and the man’s head rolled to the side, his breath done.
Rune heaved a breath, standing straight. Wes followed suit, his stare not moving from the dead man at his feet.
Rune looked to Wes. “Hoppler, just like we thought.”
Wes exhaled a bitter sigh. “Aye. Dammit all to hell.”
“Where did he come from?” Rune asked.
“He was in the stables with the horses. And he just ran when he saw me.”
“What do you mean just like you thought? You know? You know who is behind this?” Laney’s voice pitched high as she gasped out the words into the air behind them.
Wes spun around.
She stood ten feet away, her hands on her hips, her shoulders curled over as she sucked in air, panting.
She’d run—run fast to get behind them as quickly as she had.
Blast.
Between her gasps, her head shook, her amber eyes skewering Wes, disbelief palpitating in the crinkle of her brow.
“You know—you know who is behind this—who killed my brother—and you didn’t tell me?” Her words sputtered out, bitter accusation in each sharp syllable.
Rune stepped between them, looking to Wes. “I will retrieve the horses.” A quick nod to Laney and he started back to the village.
“Check the girths before you gather them.”
Rune waved his hand in the air, not answering him, not turning around. Of course he’d check the straps to make sure they hadn’t been tampered with. Rune was more than competent and he didn’t need Wes telling him what to do.
He also knew Wes was about to use him as a buffer and was having none of it. Smart man.
With a deep inhale he held in his chest, Wes looked to Laney. She’d caught her breath enough to move her arms and they were now crossed over her ribcage, her look skewering him.
“You need to tell me right now who is behind this, Wes. Who killed Morty? You know, don’t you? You know exactly who it is and you didn’t—wouldn’t tell me.”
Wes shook his head and caught the sight of the dead man’s boot. Dammit.
In three strides he swallowed the space between them and grabbed Laney’s upper arm, dragging her away from the body.
“Wes.” She tried to yank her arm away.
“I’m not talking to you when you’re inches away from a dead man.”
“Fine.” She jerked on her arm again and he released it. She kept walking toward the village along the bank of the swollen river. “You could just say that instead of manhandling me everywhere you want me to be.”
“You don’t always listen to me, Laney.”
“Maybe if you would tell me information I have every right to know—like who killed my brother, who tried to kill me—I would trust you enough to listen to you.”
His mouth pulled tight, his teeth bit his tongue for several minutes until they were well away from the dead man, but still a distance to the village. They passed a small grove of elm trees at the bank of the river. As private as he was going to accomplish in the moment.
Instead of grabbing her to stop her, he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Not subtle, but at least he didn’t grab her arm and yank her to a stop.
