Page 55 of Harbor

It took Renzo a second to think.

Another to breathe again.

A third to realize what happened.

There, at the end of the hallway when he tipped his head back to see who had just saved his life, stood Lucia with his gun in her hands. He thought she kind of looked like an angel—hell, she always looked saintly to him, anyway—standing there in her black jeans and his leather jacket. She was still holding that gun out straight like she might have to shoot again—hazel eyes wide, and frozen. Her breaths came out stuttered and short, but her hands didn’t shake.

Why, he wanted to ask.

She never should have killed for him.

Was he even worth that?

“Lucia,” he mumbled.

Croaked, was more like it.

Damn, his throat hurt.

Her gaze darted from the body on the floor, to him. “I told you—you go, I go.”

Yeah, fuck, she had told him that.

“But I told you to go,” he said, aching throat and all.

Lucia shook her head. “Not without you, Ren.”

Had she followed him? He watched her drive away at the hotel, but he looked in the other direction before she had turned the corner at the stoplight. Had she turned back around, and came after him?

She must have.

His heart was going to explode, but that was better than it being dead. His mind was racing, but that was better than being blank. Every breath he took hurt, but that was better than not being able to breathe at all.

All because of her.

Because she came back.

Because she didn’t listen.

Lucia choked out a sound.

Renzo was still trying to process.

“You crazy fucking woman,” he breathed. “You were supposed to go.”

“You stubborn fucking man. I’m not going without you.”

Fine.

Fine.

He got it.

He understood.

How much time did they have?

A few minutes, maybe. Not even. Someone would have heard that gunshot. It was way too fucking loud. But if they had a second, he was going to use it.