Page 163 of Hush

Barnes slipped out of the trees and made his way to Tom. Mike watched, agony ripping through him, as Barnes held his gun to Tom’s head. “What are you waiting for?” he hissed. “Kill him!”

“Just wait…” Willy had told them all to hold until he gave the order. “He ain’t the only fed in these woods. There was another trail.”

Another gunshot. Villegas stepped out of the trees. Advanced on Barnes, talking to him.

And then put his weapon away.

Mike cursed, kicking the ground where he lay, furious and heartbroken and utterly betrayed. How many of his people were working against them?

Should he just run out there? Be with Tom, at the end?

No, stick to the plan.

Fuck the plan. Only Tom mattered.

He couldn’t think straight anymore.

He spat blood, again, building a small puddle beside him.

He was dying. Snake venom was murdering him, making him crazy. Making him bleed out from the inside, more than even Barnes’s stabbings. Closing his eyes, Mike bowed his head, trying to breathe slowly. Trying to come back to reality.

When he looked up, Villegas was staring right at him. Their eyes met. Held.

Mike stopped breathing. Willy cursed. “Ready…”

“Wait! Wait. He’s—” Mike spat another mouthful of blood, coughing. “He’s trying to help. He’s distracting him. Distracting Barnes.”

“You sure about that? Looks like he joined your fed friend there.”

“He’s waiting for us. He’ll help, I swear to God he will.”

“You know this fed real well? Enough to stake the Brewer boy’s life on it?”

Shit, shit, shit. He stared at Villegas, still looking right at him. Villegas was just to the side of Tom, ninety degrees off Barnes. Barnes was talking to Tom, but getting ready to execute him.

Villegas was in the classic bodyguard position, the ready-to-jump leap. Would he throw himself in front of Tom? Protect him from Barnes’s shots? Do what Mike couldn’t do?

How well did he know Rob Villegas? Enough to fight with him, bicker every chance they spoke. Enough to curse his name, avoid him at the courthouse and in the hotel.

Enough to trust him with Tom’s life?

“He’s helping us,” he breathed, more a prayer than a certainty. “He’s helping.”

“Focus your sights on the lion,” Willy growled. “Ready… Aim…”

Tom closed his eyes and waited for the end.

Shots rang out, too many to have come from Barnes’s handgun, and too far away. He opened his eyes, tried to turn, but something tackled him, pinned him to the ground. A man screamed in his ear, cursing as he held Tom down. Shouts rang out, voices from the trees. Running. More shots.

Hands. The body on top of his was ripped away. Sunlight burned his eyes.

A head appeared, dark shoulders and a shadowed faced. “Tom!”

Heknewthat voice. “Mike? I thought you were—”

Mike grabbed him, hauled him close. Pulled him into his arms, screaming, heaving drags of air as he shouted nonsense. His hands raced over Tom’s shot shoulder, his bloody arm, hanging limp and useless. Tom clung to him on his knees, squeezing hard. He felt Mike tremble, felt his body shaking.

When he pulled back, his hands were covered in blood. “Mike—”