Page 25 of Scout’s Honor

“Surprise, asshole,” Dallas said, ignoring his relatively minor injury and holding the gun up so he could watch the guy and see what kind of gun it was at the same time. A Glock 19. He dropped the magazine, letting it fall into the weeds, racked the slide to clear the chamber, field-stripped the gun, pocketed the barrel with silencer, and tossed the rest of the components as far away into the forest as he could while rain fell steadily all around.

The guy snarled and lunged at him, holding his injured hand into his chest. Dallas put his fists up, and tried to circle, but his prosthesis tripped him up. The guy lunged and got an elbow around his throat, and they tumbled to the ground.

“Oh no!” Bonhi cried, circling around them, tears and makeup streaming down her face, her hands out, her wet hair stuck to her face and shoulders. She backed away, toward her car.

Dallas head-butted the guy and worked his way out from under him, then climbed on his back, grabbed a chunk of his hair, and slammed his face into the weeds. The guy cried out and wrenched to his feet, throwing Dallas to the ground. Pain speared through his ribs. The guy jumped on him, and Dallas rolled, then jumped on the guy’s chest, grabbing him by the hair again and punching him in the face several times, until he dropped slack on the ground, eyes closed. Dallas knelt over him, ready for anything, breathing heavily.

The blur around the guy’s body leaked away until it was gone, making Dallas shake his head.

Dallas looked over at Bonhi. “You okay?”

She nodded vehemently, her eyes wide. Her hands reached out in front of her like she could barely see.

“What about you?” she cried. “Were you shot?”

Dallas turned his bloody arm away from her view. “Only scratched up,” he lied. “Can you make it to the road?”

She turned that way. “I think so,” she said, moving through the weeds, hands out for the guardrail.

Dallas rolled into the foliage while her back was turned and shifted silently, healing the wound to his arm. He shifted back, checked on the guy, rolling in the foliage again, trying to get some scratches on himself, then he went up after Bonhi. His boots were untied but he ignored it, following Bonhi as she reached the guardrail.

“My phone,” she said. “It’s in my car.”

Dallas escorted her to her car, watching the unconscious man in the weeds. He lay still.

After a moment, Bonhi returned with her purse, keys, and phone. She held the phone up, showing the smashed screen. Her hair was plastered on her head and her lips were blue. “It won’t turn on.”

Dallas nodded and held his arm out. “Let’s go to my car.”

She nodded and moved right under his arm like she belonged. He helped her through the wet grass and up over the underbrush, to where his car was lit up. A vehicle came around the turn and drove by so fast they didn’t have time to consider flagging it down.

Dallas’ mind kept working over the blur that he’d seen twice now. Could it possibly have anything to do with vampires? He looked around. Were they sitting ducks out here? Danger pinged inside his brain, and he leaned into his car, knocking his phone under his seat so Bonhi wouldn’t see it, then he took Bonhi around to the passenger side.

Her teeth were chattering. “Come on, come on,” he said. “Let’s get you safe and warm.” He bundled her into the car, then went back to the trunk for the emergency kit. He took out the folded space blanket and whipped it open, then took it back to Bonhi and wrapped it around her.

Her teeth were chattering harder, and more of her skin was blue. Dallas ran back to the emergency kit and grabbed the heat pack. He popped it to activate it and gave it to Bonhi. “Hold this to your belly.” She did as she was told. He slammed the door, then ran back to her car and popped the glove box. He pulled everything out of it that could possibly have her name on it, then he checked the rest of the car—clean.

Dallas took a look at the guy on the ground and he was gone. Oh shit! Dallas ran to his car on high alert, then climbed behind the wheel, dripping water. He put all of Bonhi’s papers in the footwell under her, then wiped his face, put the car in gear and eased onto the roadway.

“Direct me to your house,” he said.

Bonhi didn’t respond. He looked over, and she was curled into a little ball, the space blanket over her head. Her voice was soft. “I’m so c-cold.”

Dallas turned on the car’s heat and cranked it up to max. “Shock,” he said. “We’ve got to get you dry. How far away do you live?”

“Fifteen minutes. Follow….” Her voice was shaking and she stopped for a moment. When she spoke again it was stronger. “Follow this road. You won’t need to turn until you come to Rosette Way. There’ll be a green sign.”

“Got it.”

Dallas drove on in the rain, peering at the dark road ahead, laser-focused on getting Bonhi to safety. He checked the rearview mirror compulsively, but no one followed. His leg popped into his awareness, throbbing in pain and tightness, but his prosthesis held. He focused on his other knee, ignoring the pain with a calculated coldness he’d been practicing.

A few minutes passed and they drove in silence.

Bonhi stuck her head out of the space blanket and curled it around her shoulders with a crinkling sound. She graced him with a small smile and said, “Thank you for saving me.”

Dallas shook his head. “I almost didn’t.”

“You did. You were amazing.” Her tone was warm and authentic. He looked at her, seeing flat hero-worship shine from her eyes.