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we get to our feet and run as fast as we can to the Rock. Okay?"
"Okay." The word hurt, felt as if it had been wrenched from her soul.
"One ... two ..."
"Now, Killian," Joe Martin yelled. "You got thirty seconds to give yourself up."
"Three." Killian and Lainie lurched to their feet and spun around, racing for the Rock.
"Son of a bitch!" Martin shrieked. "They're makin' a run for it."
Lainie and Killian lurched forward. The thick, viscous mud sucked at their feet and splashed up their pants. Rain slashed against their faces, blinded them. Still they ran, their threaded fingers a lifeline in the shifting world. Behind them came the thundering heartbeat of horses' hooves.
Gunfire exploded again, sprayed all around them. She heard the thudding impact of bullets on the crumbling rock walls, smelled the sharp, acrid scent of gunpowder.
Suddenly Killian arced forward, his chest curving outward. His fingers spasmed around hers, clamped hard. He stumbled and slid forward, crashing to his knees.
She clung to his hand, ignoring the painful snapping of her bones. "Killian?" she screamed, wiping the rain from her eyes, trying futilely to see him.
He staggered to his feet and kept running, dragging her alongside him. "Keep running, damn it."
She glanced backward. The three horsemen were gaining ground; their tall, silhouetted forms shimmered in the silver curtain of the rain.
Thunder boomed across the darkening sky, shook the ground beneath their feet. Lightning flared, its white light bright enough to hurt Lainie's eyes. She blinked,
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trying to see where they were going. A huge, snaking bolt of lightning shot out of the clouds and hit a gnarled old tree. The branches exploded in a shower of golden sparks, a fire billowed up from its core. The scent of smoke was all around.
"Here." Killian yanked her sideways into a crack in the Rock. Huge, wet sandstone walls curled around them, protected them from the howling wind. He pulled her into his arms and collapsed against the Rock, breathing hard.
She clung to him, her cheek pressed to the slick, soaking wet oilskin of his duster.
"This is it," he said in a tired voice.
There was a finality in his voice that surprised her. She looked up at him, blinking against the rain. "Killian?"
"Sorry, Lainie. I thought maybe ..."
She pulled back. "What?" Then she saw it. Wide-eyed, disbelieving, she stared at the dark blotch that spread across his chest.
Blood. He'd been shot.
She couldn't breathe. Horror shuddered through her in a wave that left her icy cold. She launched forward and pressed her hands over the wound in his chest, applying a steady pressure. Blood seeped through his shirt and squished between her fingers, running over the back of her hands. Rain diluted the blood, turning it a pathetic pink and washing it away.
"You're going to be okay," she said, breathing hard.
"You'll be fine___" Her voice cracked on a sob. Tears
burned her eyes and turned him into a watery blur.
"Don't cry," he whispered.
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"I love you," she said in a hoarse, hiccuping voice. "I love you." Her words took on a strident desperation,