Ned pulled the trigger, his gaze fixed slightly above Homer Craig’s head, and the man fell back, stumbling off his steed, which dragged him away by the leg trapped in the stirrup.
Thaddeus Craig opened his mouth wide, screaming, but Ned couldn’t hear him, deafened by his own heartbeat. The young agent jumped off his horse in vain hope that his father was still alive, but the two other men didn’t stall, their bullets swishing through the air as Ned spun Nugget around and galloped forward.
The decision to shoot Homer had taken him seconds but was no impulse. It was cold and calculated. Thaddeus Craig wouldn’t care about chasing Cole down. From now on, his singular concern would be the fact that Ned O’Leary still drew breath.
Ned’s eyes closed when he pulled up the bandana and sensed the sweet kiss of ylang-ylang, only now remembering it was Cole’s bandana he wore around his throat. A scream tore from his lips when a bullet grazed his arm, but the tears pooling in his eyes had nothing to do with physical pain. His frantic heart beat to the words punching him over and over.
I will never forgive you.
I will kill you if it’s the last thing I do.