Page 137
And then, she stopped fighting.
She jerked down, twisted so that her back was to his front, and Bonetti pulled the trigger.
The gunshot cracked through the room. Isabella’s body jerked as the bullet tore through her flesh. But didn’t stop. It punched through her shoulder and buried itself in Bonetti’s chest. He released a guttural howl that shook the walls, his eyes wide with shock and pain.
My paralysis shattered. Two rapid squeezes of the trigger sent my bullets drilling into his skull with surgical precision. The back of his head exploded in a crimson mist against the white marble. His body crumpled, sliding away from Isabella like discarded trash.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, holstering my weapon and dropping to my knees beside her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her eyes glassy but still focused. Blood pumped steadily from the wound, soaking her black tee.
“You came,” she whispered.
My voice cracked. “You called.”
“How did you find me?” Each word was a struggle, her voice winded.
“Your shoulder,” I reminded her gently.
Her smile wobbled. “Good thing we never took that out.”
A very good thing. That was my future, one I would fight to my last breath to protect and cherish.
I tore off my shirt, then ripped it in two. My heartbeat died a little more with each passing second. God Almighty, if I lost her….
“Let me see it,” I commanded, gently moving her blood-soaked clothes aside to examine the wound. Thank heavens. The bullet had gone straight through the fleshy part of her shoulder, missing bone and major arteries. A clean shot through and through.
“Am I dying, doc?” she quipped.
“Looks worse than it is,” I said, my voice steadier now as I pressed the makeshift bandage against her shoulder. “You’re not getting rid of me this quickly.”
She winced but didn’t cry out. My Isabella was made of steel beneath that delicate exterior.
“I am never getting rid of you,” she said fiercely, despite the pale quality to her otherwise rich olive complexion.
I worked quickly, wrapping the fabric tightly around her shoulder, applying just enough pressure to stem the bleeding without restricting movement. Her blood warmed my fingers as I tied off the bandage, but the flow was already slowing. My chest loosened with each passing second.
“Donna Isabella!” a voice shouted as footsteps approached the door.
I rounded, pistol raised.
“Vincenzo! What the hell? I told you to stay in the car,” Isabella snapped.
“They ambushed me. I only just fought them off.” The lad, one of her soldiers, stared at me.
I met the daggers in his eyes and sent him an accusatory glare of my own. He sat there and let her walk into this mess?
Isabella moved to say something, but my finger curling on the trigger silenced her.
Until she screamed.
Vincenzo jerked violently. He fell into the doorway. But his own gun was out and pointed right back at me.
Good man.
“Jaxon!” Isabella screamed. “He’s one of mine! Don’t you dare kill him.”
“It was just a graze,” I growled. “To teach him a lesson about what happens when he fails to protect his boss.”
Vincenzo breathed heavily. “I did fail, donna.”
