But really, it was probably the sex. Isabelle smiled.
“You make me nervous when you smile at the weapons.”
Her gaze lifted to his and her smile widened. “Actually I was thinking about sex.”
“Oh. In that case, keep smiling.” He winked.
She laughed and he held out one of the lasers to her. “You have to be careful with these.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s loaded?”
“Yes. And the trigger is an easy pull. It doesn’t take much to set it off. But I want you to get a feel for it because it’s heavy and bulky.”
He laid the rifle in her hands. He was right. It was heavy. She lifted it and, as Dalton showed her, she laid the butt against her shoulder and aimed for the trees at the back of the yard.
Shoot him.
She stilled, blinked, turned to Dalton. “Did you say something?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
Kill him.
She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over her, a blanket of evil wrapping itself around her. It was like darkness cloaking her, touching her, fingers caressing her hand, willing her to do something she didn’t want to do.
Pull the trigger. Kill him.
“No. I won’t.”
Dalton was right there in front of her. She wanted to scream at him to get out of the way, but her voice wouldn’t work.
He’s going to hurt you. Kill him before he can.
She refused to listen to Tase’s voice. He was behind her. She could feel him, his presence so real she felt the heat coming off him. She shook her head, the tears in her eyes blinding her. She lifted the barrel of the laser, pivoted and pulled the trigger.
“Leave me alone, damn you.”
A blue stream shot from the barrel of the rifle.
And right into Dalton.
No. No. That couldn’t be. Dalton had been on the other side of her.
Dalton fell to the ground and Isabelle dropped the rifle.
Oh, God, what had she done?
She heard Tase’s laughter in her ears, wanted to cover them to drown out the sound of his evil.
That’s my girl.
No. She hadn’t done this, had she?
But she had.
“Dalton!”
She smelled burning flesh and nausea rose into her throat. She forced it down, dropped to her knees in front of him. His eyes were closed, his shirt torn, a large dark hole in his stomach where she’d-
She’d shot him. With a laser. Dear God, he was dead. He had to be dead. No one could survive that. She looked for blood but there was nothing but a deep, dark hole in the middle of his stomach.
Frantic, her hands shaking, she touched two fingers to the side of his neck.
A pulse! She felt a pulse! Weak, but it was there.
She had to get help. She swept her hand over his forehead.
He looked so pale.
“I’m going to get help, Dalton. I’ll be right back.”
Don’t die. Please don’t die.
She didn’t want to leave him there alone, afraid he’d die while she was gone. But she knew she couldn’t help him. She pushed off the ground and sprinted to the main house so fast her lungs burned by the time she flew through the front door. Georgie must have known from the look on Isabelle’s face that something was wrong. She grabbed a tapestry bag from the kitchen counter. “Don’t talk. Let’s go.”
Fueled by panic and concern for Dalton, Isabelle nodded and they ran down the path back to the cabin. She was certain she was going to find Dalton already dead by the time they returned.
She’d shot him. How could she have done that?
Don’t think about that now. Save him. Don’t let him die.
She should have told Georgie to call 911. Dalton needed an ambulance, not a voodoo priestess with a carpetbag. Where were her brains?
She flew through the house and out the back door, skidding to a halt when she saw him.
Dalton not only wasn’t dead, he was sitting up.
She dropped to her feet next to him. “You need to lie down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” She reached for his middle, but he grasped her wrist.
“I said I was fine.”
“Let me.” Georgie moved in and Isabelle stood.
“I’m okay, really.”
“What happened here?” Georgie asked.
“I shot him. With a laser.”
Georgie lifted her gaze to Isabelle, then back at Dalton.
“It was an accident,” Isabelle added. “I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” Dalton said, his voice calm and even. “I’m going to be fine.”
Georgie turned to her. “I’m going to bring him in the house. Go grab a pot and boil me some water.”
Isabelle nodded and ran inside to start filling the pot with water, the whole time lifting up on her toes to peer out the window to see what Georgie was doing. She had Dalton on his feet and was helping him to the door. Isabelle ran to open it. They came inside, and she was heading toward the bedroom when she noticed they weren’t following.
“In the kitchen is fine,” Georgie said.
She didn’t understand this. The wound was the size of both her hands. He should be in the hospital having major surgery, not sitting at the kitchen table.
By the time Isabelle had dragged the pot out of the bottom cupboard, washed and rinsed it and filled it with water, then set it on the stove, Georgie had removed Dalton’s shirt and was inspecting the wound.
“I need more light, Isabelle. Can you find me a lamp?”
“Sure.” The kitchen only had an overhead light, so Isabelle pulled the lamp from the living room and set it on the table, plugging it into one of the floor outlets in the kitchen. Georgie was bent close over Dalton. Dalton was watching Isabelle. He actually looked pretty good, all things considered. He should have been in shock, and pale, but he looked dark. Tan. Normal. Completely different from how he’d looked before she’d run up to get Georgie.
The water was boiling, so Isabelle took the cloths Georgie gave her and soaked them, pulled them out with tongs, and set them on the clean cutting board to cool a bit before handing them to Georgie.
“This isn’t bad at all,” Georgie said after washing Dalton’s stomach.
“Are you serious? That hole was huge. It was a laser blast and he was only a foot away from me, Georgie. I had to have hit major organs.”
Georgie looked up at her. “No, Isabelle. It’s not that bad.”
Georgie stood and went to the sink to wash her hands. Isabelle leaned over the table, then frowned as she examined the hole.
There … was no hole. It was closed, a small puckered wound the only evidence of what she’d done.
“You don’t even need stitches,” Georgie said to Dalton with a satisfied smile, then handed Isabelle a tube. “Keep it clean, put this antibiotic cream on it to ward infection away.”
Still puzzled, Isabelle nodded, then lifted her gaze to Georgie. “I don’t understand. It was much worse. Did you-”
Georgie laid her hand on Isabelle’s arm. “No, chère. I didn’t.” Georgie looked over at Dalton.
Isabelle shook her head. She didn’t understand this. Not at all.
Georgie gathered up her supplies and left, but before she did Isabelle saw the frown Georgie had cast at Dalton.
Throughout it all, Dalton had stayed quiet. After Isabelle saw Georgie to the door, she walked back into the kitchen and pulled up a chair across the table from Dalton. Less than an hour ago she’d blown a hole the size of both her hands in his stomach. Dalton had looked near death.