Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
It was almost as if the same reaction moved through my mom right then too.
Because I watched and realized that her shoulders weren’t arched back like that because of the binds.
Oh, no.
It was because she’d been trying to get out of them.
And succeeding.
I watched almost in slow motion as she suddenly stood and twisted, the movement lightening quick and graceful, all those years of yoga and pilates clearly paying off.
She swung out an arm, grabbing something off the old metal desk attached to the wall of the garage.
I didn’t know what it was until I saw her turn again, swinging out, and plunging the screwdriver into the man’s neck.
Everything went from slow motion to almost fast-forward then.
The man reached out, panicked, yanking the screwdriver out, a movement that had blood spurting everywhere, splattering all over my mother’s pretty nightgown, on her arms, her hair, her face.
His hands rose, grabbing at his neck, trying to stop the bleeding.
But it was too late.
He was already collapsing.
Down to his knees, then his face.
“The fuck!” the man behind me screamed, momentarily too stunned to remember to hold onto me, so his hand left my hair.
I had enough presence to roll away, to put some distance between us.
But for a moment, I was frozen, forgetting all about the gun.
Across from me, my mom’s mouth was open, screaming something. I had to shake my head to think straight, to hear right.
“Run!”
Even as she said it, the man’s attention turned to her.
His hand was reaching into his jacket.
Which reminded me of the special pocket in the one I was wearing.
“No!” I shrieked as I saw the flash of metal, as my hand closed around my borrowed gun, as I slid my finger to the trigger, aimed, and shot.
Again.
And again.
And again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Savannah
I watched as the man’s body jolted, teetered, then fell to his knees, then onto his face. The same way his friend had fallen.
It wasn’t until I felt a hand slamming down on top of mine that I realized we suddenly weren’t alone anymore.
The hand pushed until the gun was aimed at the floor, then pulled it from my hand as my gaze finally lifted.
And there he was.
My knight-in-shining-armor.
Nino.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, voice calm. Overly so. Like someone used when talking to a scared or injured animal. “Let me have the gun,” he said.
As if snapping back to myself, my fingers loosened, and the gun dropped into his hand.
“Oh, God. Oh, my God,” I said, rocking. “I killed him,” I gasped.
“No,” Nino said.
“What do you mean no? I saw him fall. He’s dead.”
“Yes, he’s dead. But I killed him.”
“What? No. I shot him.”
“You shot… at him,” another voice said, making me look past Nino to see Dante smirking at me. “I think you might have put a dent in his fingering game, but Nino was the one to take him out.”
“But… oh,” I said, mind slowly catching up.
The gunshots.
Yes.
Too many.
I’d shot three.
There had been several more than that.
I’d just assumed it was me because I thought we were all alone.
We.
“Mom,” I gulped, scrambling up, and Nino reached down to help me to my feet. “Mom!” I yelped, running toward her.
It was her who reached out, though, grabbing my arms, refusing to let me wrap her in the hug I so badly needed right then.
“I’m afraid I’m covered in quite a bit of forensic evidence, my darling girl,” she said, and my gaze moved over the blood covering her once again.
“Here,” another voice said, making us both turn to find a handsome older man standing there, holding out a handkerchief toward her.
“Thank you,” my mom said, taking it, and wiping her face, neck, and arms, as my gaze moved toward the man.
At my questioning glance, he extended a hand. “Antony Grassi,” he said, taking my hand in both of his. “I guess it’s my place to officially welcome you into the family,” he said, eyes warm, and I could see a lot of his son in him.
“Thank you,” I said, feeling the relief rush through me.
“Whatever for?” he asked.
“For sending Nino to save us.”
“All part of being in the family,” he assured me, giving my hands a squeeze, then moving away.
His presence was replaced by Nino’s, whose arm went out, resting on my hip. Steady. Reassuring.
“Are you okay?”
“I… I’m sorry,” I said, eyes getting a little watery at the idea of him being angry with me for doing everything he would have told me not to do. “I had to save her. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer. And I couldn’t just let them hurt her.”
“I know,” he said, giving my hip a little squeeze. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
“I stole a car.”
“Yes, you did,” he agreed, giving me a little smirk.
“And a gun.”
“Yep.”
“And someone’s jacket.”
“That too,” he agreed.
“And I shot someone.”
“You… grazed someone,” Nino corrected.