Hickok moved off, carrying Chastity.
“Blade?” Bonnie whispered as the Warrior hastened on the heels of the gunman.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he told her.
Bonnie raised her head. Glistening moisture covered her cheeks and chin. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose was running. “Yes, I do.”
Blade scrutinized the buildings they were passing.
“I killed my brother,” Bonnie declared.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“He came along because of me,” Bonnie said, and closed her eyes. “I’m responsible.”
“Clyde was a grown man. He was responsible for his own actions.”
“But I—” Bonnie began.
“Clyde came because he loved you,” Blade said, cutting her off, his voice unusually stern. “The choice was his to make, and the consequences are his alone.” He paused. “We all have decisions to make, dozens every day.
Sometimes we make the right decisions, and sometimes we don’t. Every action brings a reaction, and we must learn to bear the responsibility for the reactions our actions cause, for the consequences of our decisions. We can’t blame others for our failures, and we can’t blame ourselves for theirs.
A man isn’t a man, a woman isn’t a woman, until they learn to bear the responsibility for their own decisions. Until then, they’re no more than overgrown children.” He paused again. “Your brother was not a child.”
Bonnie gazed at him quizzically for a moment. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“Can you walk now? I want my hands free in case we’re attacked again.”
“Oh, sure,” Bonnie said self-consciously. “Sorry. You can put me down.”
Blade gently lowered her to the asphalt. “You can manage? Are you positive?”
“No problem.”
The Warrior unslung the AR-15 and extended the rifle. “Here.”
“What’s this for?”
“You left yours in the alley,” Blade reminded her. “Take this.”
She obeyed. “Thanks.”
Blade resumed looking for a hiding place. “As soon as we stop, we’ll tend to your wound.”
“There’s very little blood,” Bonnie commented while inspecting her left arm. “I doubt there’ll be an infection.”
“You never know. Better safe than sorry.”
They came to an intersection and trailed Hickok to the left.
“What happens after you find your friend?” Bonnie inquired.
“We’re heading for our Home in Minnesota,” Blade said.
“Is that far?”
“Do you know where Minnesota is located?”
“No,” Bonnie replied sheepishly.
“Well, it’s far enough,” Blade stated. “Even with a jeep, and what with all the mutants and whatnot we’ll run into along the way, we won’t reach our Home for at least a week.”
“You sound anxious to get back.”
“Lady, you don’t know the half of it.”
“Is there someone there waiting for you?”
Blade nodded and smiled. “My Family.”
“You have a woman?”
“A wife and a son,” Blade said. “Jenny and Gabe.”
Bonnie deliberately glanced to the right so he wouldn’t notice her frown.
“Hickok is married too,” Blade added. “You probably won’t believe this, but he’s a first-class husband and father.”
She looked at the giant, her expression blank. “I believe you. Hickok impresses me as being the kind of man a woman can rely on.”
“Oh?”
“I knew he was reliable when he threatened to—how did he put it?—ventilate my noggin.”
Blade stared at her, clearly puzzled.
“I knew he was serious. I recognized that he’s a man of his word. The honest type.”
“Feminine logic never ceases to amaze me.”
“I feel the same way about men,” Bonnie confessed.
Blade checked to the rear, ensuring no one was pursuing them. “Since we’re being so honest, maybe you would like to tell the truth about something else?”
“Like what?”
“Like the real reason you hate the Hounds?”
“I told you. One of them has the hots for me, and they wouldn’t let Clyde…”
Blade held up his right hand. “Save your breath. I want to hear the truth.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“And don’t insult my intelligence.”
Bonnie gazed at the giant. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve seen the hatred in your eyes when you mention the Hounds, and I know there must be a deeper reason than you’ve let on.”
Her shoulders slumped and she stared absently at the tall structures marking the downtown Memphis skyline. “Your wife is a lucky woman.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh, no deep reason,” Bonnie said, mustering a feeble smile. “You’re right. There is another reason I hate the Hounds.”
“Care to talk about it?”
Hickok and Chastity turned right at the next intersection.
“It’s very personal,” Bonnie said.
“I understand,” Blade responded.
They covered another yard, and had about seven more to go to reach the intersection.
“What do you know about the leader of the Hounds, about the King?”
Bonnie inquired.
“Next to nothing,” Blade admitted.
“Did you know he likes to rape his sexual partners?”
“Do you have this on reliable authority?”
Bonnie snickered. “The best. The son of a bitch raped me.”
Stunned by the revelation. Blade gaped at her, seeing the distress etching her attractive features, feeling his heart go out to her, and comprehending her motivation for wanting to inflict as much damage as she could on the Hounds. “I didn’t know,” he blurted out, and he was still gawking at her as they rounded the corner. He saw her eyes widen in alarm and glanced straight ahead.
There were Hickok and Chastity, standing not ten feet away.
And 20 feet beyond them, strung across the street, armed to the teeth, was a six-man Hound patrol.
Chapter Fourteen
General Thayer was in a foul mood when he descended the stairs to the mansion basement. He ignored the salutes of the two guards posted at the base of the stairs and tramped along a tiled corridor until he came to the holding cell containing the prisoner. With a snap of his right wrist, he flicked open the small metal panel covering the barred window in the top portion of the door. He expected to find the stranger pacing the cell, nervously awaiting execution. Instead, the man called Rikki was seated, cross-legged, in the center of the cell, his eyes closed, his chin on his chest, his cupped hands on his knees. “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi?”
Rikki’s eyes slowly opened, his head lifting. “Spartan.”
“I need to talk to you,” General Thayer said.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Rikki stated. “I neglected to thank you for having the guards remove the handcuffs.”
“It was the least I could do,” Thayer responded. “Your last hour on earth should not be spent in cuffs.”
“I’m grateful for your concern.”
“Sergeant Boynton’s body was just carted off for burial,” Thayer disclosed. “As always, I couldn’t find any hint of the cause of his death.”
“And you won’t,” Rikki said.
“Do you have some idea?”
“Perhaps.”
General Thayer pressed his face to the window. “What did you see in there?”
“Very little.”
“Did you see the Dark Lord?”
“I saw—something.”
“Did the Dark Lord speak to you?”
“Someone did.”
General Thayer’s forehead furrowed in perplexity. “Why are you treating me this way?”
“What way?”
“You’re not answering my questions.”