Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3 by Tamra Baumann (best historical fiction books of all time txt) 📗

Incensed that Emily may have hurt him, I crawl as fast as I can toward the gun. I’m not sure what I’ll do with it when I get it, but it’ll be whatever it takes to stop Emily from hurting anyone ever again. Even if that means pulling the trigger.

I’m almost to the gun when Dylan raises his head. Blood gushing from his face makes me dizzy but even more determined to get the gun.

Emily’s hand almost reaches it, so I muster all that’s inside me and lunge on top of her arm. We both claw our way to the weapon. Her hand tangles with mine in a race back and forth when suddenly, she’s yanked aside, and the coast is clear for me to grab the cool steel in my hand.

Got it.

I pick up the gun, grab the nearest desk for balance, and stand. Dylan has Emily facedown, with one of her hands behind her back, and is reaching for the other to slap on the cuffs. With things seemingly under control, I want to set the gun down and help Dylan, whose blood is still flowing freely from the side of his face. But I’ve seen enough movies to know better, so I stand guard until Emily is secured and Dylan rolls off her onto his back.

He grabs his walkie, and with his eyes closed, says, “Madge, I need an officer at the high school to escort Emily Kingsley to a hospital and then lockup. And two ambulances.”

“Copy,” Madge’s voice says, “But two? Who else is hurt?”

“Me. I’ve been shot.”

“Shot?!” Madge’s voice rings out.

Dylan clenches his jaw. “Hurry, Madge.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Don’t die on us!”

“10-4.” The hand holding his radio hits the floor.

After setting the gun on a desk, I scoot to his side. The blood seems to be coming from his forehead. “Dylan? Dylan?” He must’ve passed out from the blood loss.

Emily, whose closed eyes are streaming tears, whispers, “Clean towels are under the sink.”

I run to find the towels, grabbing the whole stack. After sliding on my knees beside Dylan again, I wipe away the blood as fast as I can. “Help’s almost here, Dylan. Hang on.” I furiously sop up blood until I finally see the large wound that I have no idea how to treat. Is it better to put pressure on it, or could that drive a bullet in further?

My sister will know what to do, so I grab the phone from my back pocket and take a picture of the injury before the blood fills in again. Then I text the photo along with a brief explanation and hit Send.

With a clean towel over the wound, I gently hold it there to absorb the blood, wishing desperately for the wail of an ambulance or the ding of a return text. I’d take either.

My phone rings, and I answer without looking at the screen. “Meg?”

“Yes. Put pressure on and hold. On my way.” She disconnects the call.

Thank goodness.

I press harder on Dylan’s wound and whisper, “Hey. We just made a deal, remember? About having those kids one day. That means you have to get better.” Still no response. Why didn’t I tell him how much I love him when we were in the car earlier? Because I do. With all my heart.

After a few moments in silence, Emily says, “How did you figure it out?”

I’m so mad at her for what she’s done, I don’t want to look at her. On the other hand, I want her to know she’s not as smart as she thinks. “Cooper knocked the science book off Brittany’s bed. She had a piece of paper tucked inside on the cave drawing page. When I was looking at the animals in their cages, it all came back to me. Should’ve updated your lessons over the years.”

Emily grunts. “So, a goldendoodle brought me down.”

“Yep.” I replace the towel on Dylan’s head with a clean one. He’s losing way too much blood. “But Dylan was close to figuring it all out anyway.”

The wail of sirens screeching toward us sends hope coursing through me. “Help’s almost here, Dylan.”

The classroom door bangs open. In a heartbeat, Meg is beside me, gloved up and pushing me out of the way with her elbow. “I’ve got this, Sawyer.”

I slide back a few feet out of the way, but not far enough that I can’t see Dylan. I don’t want to let him out of my sight, so I pull my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around them. Prepared to wait as long as it takes. I refuse to believe Beth’s dire prediction about Dylan all those years ago is coming true. Please don’t let him die.

Meg pulls the towel aside and pokes around a bit before she leans back on her heels. “The bullet just grazed him. These kinds of head wounds bleed like the dickens, though.” She turns and looks at me. “Good thing both our guys are so hardheaded. That bullet probably bounced right off.” When I don’t smile at her attempt at humor, she says, “Dylan will be fine, Sawyer.”

Hot tears stream down my face, and I’m so choked up at the good news that I can only nod as the police and paramedics arrive. I quietly slide into one of the student desks in all the confusion, hoping Dylan will wake up. I need to tell him I love him.

While my sister bosses the paramedics who help Dylan, the second set of paramedics arrives to help Emily. After a brief exam, they sit Emily up and tell her and Deputy Ben that she has some bruises but nothing serious. After Emily refuses medical treatment, Ben stands her up and marches her out the classroom door.

Good riddance.

I’m desperate to talk to Dylan, but the doctor won’t let anyone see him yet. Lucky for me,