Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I lift my foot and slam my heel into the back of his knee. His kneecap crunches on the gravel. A howl tears from his chest as I put my full weight behind the effort.
“Anya!”
I hear my name from somewhere far off. It’s like a distant echo in the back of my mind, the voice a familiar and soothing memory.
I get off Raphael and kick him in the ribs until I manage to roll him over so I can take away his gun, but he lost it in the explosion. The mocking smile he aims for is more of a grimace. The laugh he throws at me is hollow. His shirt is torn in the front, revealing shredded skin and the open wound in his chest. Blood runs from his nose and mouth. One ear is missing.
“Anya!”
I step over him and push the gun against his forehead. His face pulls into a mask of contempt even as panic flickers in his eyes. He tries to hide his fear, but Raphael Morelli is afraid to die. He knows he lost. He lost his wife, his baby, his empire, and now he’s about to lose his life.
“How does it feel?” I snarl, tightening my finger on the trigger.
“Anya!”
My name comes from that distant place yet closer now, but I’m trapped with Raphael in that defining moment between life and death where nothing else exists.
“Go ahead,” Raphael taunts. Splutters. “Shoot me.”
“How does it feel to know you’ll never see your son, that another man will raise him, and that he’ll call someone else his father?”
The pretense drops. The real man shows himself when he utters a raw cry of fury and tries to reach for me like a feral animal with bared teeth. He claws the air and grabs the barrel of the rifle. I easily pull it from his palms, which are slippery with blood, and push it between his eyes again. It feels right to do it now—when he’s stripped from all pretenses down to his true, naked, despicable self.
“No one lays a finger on my daughter, Morelli.”
Knowledge courses between us. This is the moment. The end. Despite this certain fact, surprise widens his eyes when I caress the trigger. The spring tightens behind my index finger.
Pop.
Surprise is frozen on his face. Denial is the sentiment he takes to his grave.
“Fuck, Anya!”
It’s only then that I allow myself to feel the pain. To experience everything.
Warm hands grab my shoulders and pull me against a hard chest.
“Give me the gun, treasure.”
Saverio’s spicy scent wraps around me. I tilt my head up, staring at his scarred features. He takes the rifle from me and hands it to someone.
His mouth is set in a hard line, the blue of his eyes like ice as he examines my bicep. “Get the car. She’s bleeding. Gunshot.”
I’m both numb and cold, grateful for the coat he hangs over my shoulders. The ground disappears from under my feet. He’s lifted me into his arms, holding me against his chest.
His leg.
He can’t carry me.
I want to tell him that, but he’s already walking with long, uneven strides toward twin lights burning in the dark.
Headlights.
Vehicles.
“You came,” I say, thinking out loud.
He jostles my body, adjusting my weight in his arms. “Always, tesoro.”
Dante stands next to an SUV. He opens the back door for Saverio.
When Saverio lowers me onto the seat, I grip Dante’s forearm. “You have to make sure they’re all dead.”
Saverio’s tone is clipped. “No one could’ve survived that blast.”
“Double check,” I say, tightening my fingers on Dante’s arm.
Dante’s lips lift in one corner. “Yes, boss, Lady Luck.”
While Saverio deposits me with the utmost gentleness on the seat, Dante calls a guard over and instructs him to do a body count. Saverio comes around the car and shifts in next to me. Dante takes the wheel.
“We can’t go to the hospital,” I say. “You know the drill.”
Saverio clenches his jaw. “Let me see your arm.”
“The cops will be here soon,” Dante says, starting the engine. “I’ll take a backroad.”
I wince as Saverio pushes the coat over my shoulder to expose my upper arm. “Claire.”
“Livy and Claire are home safely.” Saverio’s voice is terse. “Nicole just sent me a text message.”
I sink back against the seat with a sigh.
“Here.” Dante grabs a jacket from the passenger seat that he throws over his shoulder. “To stop the bleeding. I’ll let Nicole know we’re on our way.”
Saverio neatly tears off the sleeve and ties it like a bandage around my arm. “Hold on, treasure. I’ve got you.”
I utter a painful chuckle. “Now I really wish you robbed an ambulance. I won’t say no to a little anesthetic before Nicole takes this bullet out of my arm.”
Saverio’s features set into hard lines. “When this is over, we’re going to have a serious talk about the risks you took tonight.”