Page 41 of Rogue Voice

Her uncle and Aguilar were shooting back from behind the overturned garden furniture, but it didn’t seem to her as if there was much urgency behind their shots.Because they’re waiting for the rest of their men get here.Shit.

She had to get Rogue away before that happened. Rogue, who wasn’t paying any attention to the shooters. He was staring straight at her. Warmth filled her at the thought that his concern was for her. She wanted to tell him it was okay. She didn’t want to die, but she didn’t mind dying if the alternative was standing by and watchinghimdie instead.Of course, it’s preferable if neither of us has to die.

She had to get him down. Except his wrists were tied up high above her own head. She studied the contraption briefly. It was a square, solid-looking wooden frame, staked deep into the ground.

Rogue seemed to have realized by now that she wasn’t going to get down or go away. At least, he’d stopped shouting at her. The next words out of his mouth were softer—and more helpful.

“The rope. Find out where the rope ends up, on the outside of the frame.”

Bea followed it with her eyes until she came across a metal hook around which the rope was looped and knotted. Could it really be as easy as that?

She didn’t have a knife, so she used her hands to pull at the stiff, stubborn knots, not stopping even as the rope burned the pads of her fingers. She swallowed a cry of frustration when they refused to come undone.

“It’s okay, Bea. It’s okay,” Rogue said, his voice soft. “Stand behind me.”

Bea ignored him and kept working the knots until, finally, she got her nail underneath the rope.

Yes.

With that additional leverage, she was able to start pulling at the loosened loops. Suddenly, the rope slid through her fingers, gaining more and more momentum as it unraveled. Bea turned to warn Rogue, but it was too late. Free from the bindings, his body hit the dirt—hard.

Shit.

“Rogue! Rogue!”

He was face-down on the ground. He looked unconscious, but when she went to turn his body around, worried he would suffocate, his hand wrapped around her wrist, tight as a vise, and he pulled her down with him.

She landed with an ungainly oomph. Moments later, he’d rolled himself over her, flattening her to the ground. A surge of warmth hit her at the protective gesture.

“Stay down,” he growled. His hot breath on her head made her shiver. “Stay down until it’s over.”

It was a strange turn of phrase, and it took her a long instant to understand.The blue-eyed priest. Rogue knows him.

Bullets pinged on the dirt next to them, but Rogue didn’t move a muscle. If anything, his arms tightened even further around her. Bea settled in against him, cocooned in the safety of his arms, breathing in his scent, for once not thinking of anything else.

Because if this was the end?—

She never got to finish the thought.

“Rogue!”

The priest’s knees landed next to her body, hard enough to make the ground shake. Moments later, Rogue’s weight lifted from her. More bullets pinged around them.

“Fuck. What did they do to you?”

Rogue’s eyes fluttered open. “Get her … get her out of here.”

“I’ve got her, Rogue. I swear to you, I’ve got both of you.” The priest’s bright blue eyes met hers. “Can you run?”

Bea looked down at her dress. Anger slammed into her at the sight of the scuffed white leather ballet slippers peeking from under the dress. She had them in every color imaginable. Shoes designed to keep her indoors. To keep her safe … and hidden.No longer.

“I can run,” she said, in what she hoped was a firm voice. She was going to have to do something about the dress, though. She’d barely been able to walk in it without tripping.

The priest—Slate, she reminded herself—was way ahead of her.

“Allow me.” He bunched up the bottom of the dress in his huge hands, then pulled hard, tearing it right below her knees.

“Your uncle will be back with reinforcements soon. When that happens, Dark and Thorne won’t be able to hold them back. We need to run fast.”

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