Free Sinful Possession by Samantha Holt

brother
striding toward them.
    A crack split the air. It
happened slowly and yet too fast. Harris seemed to stumble, then trip. He had
hit the floor by the time another shot whooshed through the air. When something
hit a tree not far behind them reality registered.
    Ash snatched Lila and yanked
her down to the ground. She gave a squeal as he crushed her beneath him. She
didn’t wriggle, instead she seemed frozen in fear. He couldn’t claim to feel
much different.
    Their hearts pounded
together, and he drew in a ragged breath as he risked lifting his head to see
his brother. Pain seared him, very real and disturbing, down his leg. Bile burnt
the back of his throat.
    Harris remained still on the
ground. He’d been shot. It was too dark to see blood or injury, but Ash knew it
as sure as they were brothers.
    “Stay here,” he told Lila
after a few moments of silence.
    Had the shooter gone? Or was
he intending to sneak up closer? Whatever the shooter had planned, Ash was not
willing to wait around and let him do it.
    “No,” she squeaked, grabbing
his arm.
    “Harris is hurt.”
    She glanced at his brother’s
body, seeming to now fully comprehend what had happened. “Oh Lord.”
    “Stay low, don’t move.
Nothing will happen to you, I swear.”
    The grass would provide
cover and the shooter would have to be the best marksman in the world to get to
them with a damned rifle. She’d be safe for the moment.
    He crawled on his belly to
his brother, the pain in his leg growing in intensity. He had to take a moment
to check he hadn’t been injured himself but no such luck. Goddamn it. This was
his fault again. People used to say their eldest brother had the curse of death,
but he was beginning to wonder if it was not him.
    “Harris,” he hissed, coming
close to his brother’s side. “Harris,” he tried again, lifting up just enough
to view his brother’s face.
    “Bugger me that hurts.”
Harris tried to push up to sitting, but Ash pressed him back down. His brother
let loose a string of curses.
    “Stay still, you damned
fool. There’s a shooter out there.”
    “Don’t I know it.”
    “Where are you hurt?”
    “My leg.”
    Ash released a lungful of
air. A leg wound. Not pleasant, still potentially lethal, but his brother was
alive yet and the Cynfells were a hardy bunch.
    “Thank God.”
    “You might be thanking God,
but I’m not. It damned well hurts.”
    Harris lifted his head and
glanced around only for someone to touch his shoulder. He nearly leapt to his
feet and tackled the person only to realise it was Lila.
    “I said stay where you were,”
he ground out.
    “I think they’ve gone,” she
said.
    “You don’t know that.”
    “I’m safer with you.” She
wriggled closer to Harris. “Oh, Harris, are you hurt? Will he be well?”
    “I’m better for having you
here,” Harris told her as she gripped his hand.
    Damn his brother, flirting
on his deathbed. Ash tugged apart his necktie and felt for the wound on his
brother’s leg. The dull silvery light offered enough for him to view the blood
flourishing across his trousers and the neat hole in them. The pain in his own
leg gave some indication as to where the wound was. He looped the tie around
the top of his brother’s thigh and pulled it tight. Harris let out a muffled
yowl, and Lila cried out. He feared Harris had just crushed her hand. He was in
more pain than he’d like to admit.
    “We need to get you back to
the house.”
    “Look.” Lila pointed in the
direction of the house.
    Over a dozen figures began
to scour the grounds. Holding lit lamps, they had clearly heard the gunshots and
were searching for the shooter. He prayed it was enough to scare him away. When
no shots rang out as the people dispersed, Ash called out.
    “Over here.”
    Anna hurried over, lamp held
aloft, followed by two of the heavyset men she hired to keep the peace at
Stourbridge.
    “Oh God,” she said when she
spotted Harris. She looked to Ash. “Is he