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Finn’s eyes darted to his wife’s. “I love you, Charli-baby.” He gave her a slight nod, hoping to god she could do what she needed to.
“Finn—”
“Safety first,” he said, hoping she’d understand his message.
“You two are disgusting,” Stew said, pulling her hair down so she had to bow at her waist.
She gasped and groaned in pain as the top drawer behind her opened. Finn needed to distract Stew so she could reach in.
“Hey, motherfucker, are you deaf as well as a dumb shit? Take your fucking hands off her!”
Stewart cocked the gun, sneering with a twisted smile. “Maybe I’ll see just how good this pussy is that’s got you so wound up. Make you watch.”
Fury blanketed Finn like he’d never known. Pure, unadulterated rage boiled his veins as Stewart’s fist wound around his wife’s pillow-soft hair. His knees wanted to buckle under the hopelessness of the situation. Every cell screamed at him to attack. But the chance that Charli could get injured if he flew off the handle like he’d done in the past held him back. This was life or death. He wasn’t willing to risk her.
The flash of blue and red reflected in the window as if still in the distance.
A glint of metal drew his attention to the weapon easing up to Stewart’s crotch, bringing a smug flash of glee. Shoot his dick off, sweetheart.
“Do it!” Finn yelled.
The small click of the safety being turned off was the last sound Finn heard before pain like he’d never known crashed over him, knocking him down. Red blossomed over his vision before darkness swallowed him whole.
51
Charli
Bang!
A warm spray of blood shot over her face as she crumpled to the floor, ears ringing. Stewart writhed, his hand dropping the gun to cup his mutilated genitals. Charli grabbed his weapon and crawled through the pooling blood to her husband. Blindly, she reached out to his leg. “Finn!”
But his arms didn’t surround her. He didn’t move at all. Charli’s gaze darted up his legs, past his torso, and her heart stopped.
“No!” Dropping both weapons beside her, she reached out to his face and stopped. The side of his head oozed with blood. A piece of his skin hung there. Sirens blared, coming closer as Stewart screamed in pain. But nothing could compare to the deafening silence of her husband lying there in a pool of his own blood. Charli clamped her hand over the gaping wound. That’s what you’re supposed to do with injuries like this, right? A sob broke free. A violent sickness made her stomach lurch.
“No, baby. No. You can’t leave me. Not like this. Not after everything. You promised. You promised you’d never leave me. Finn!”
His closed eyes sliced through her like a knife.
“Charli?” Bently called from down the stairs.
“Help! Bently! Help! Finn—he’s—”
Bently rushed upstairs, gun drawn and aimed at Stewart as he entered the room, sweeping it like he was assessing the situation. He picked up his radio. “Vargas, I need a bus ASAP! Send Owens up here with the kit.”
Bently pressed his fingers to Finn’s neck. “He still has a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there.”
Charli sucked in a ragged breath. Hope flickered. Leaning down, she begged him one last time, ignoring the tears that streamed over her face. “Don’t leave me, Finn. We still need to have our second honeymoon. You have to meet your son. Come back to me. You promised you’d always come back.” She kissed his limp mouth, tasting the bitterness of copper, the wreckage of her grief, and emptiness of dreams lost.
The next moments were a blur, moving too slowly and at warp speed all at once.
The next thing Charli knew, she was standing in the cold, sterile hospital waiting room. Numb with shock, each inhale was a new torture as if she were inhaling shards of glass. The agony of not knowing if her husband was dead or alive on a table in a room down the hall was all-consuming. Voices spoke around her, sounding muddled as if she were underwater.
A warm palm covered her bloodstained hands. Charli’s focus sharpened, the dark melanin reminding her of Finn’s. Would she ever get to have his hands on her again?
“Charli?” Belle’s voice grew clearer.
Charli lifted her chin, staring into two dark pools of sympathy. Belle knew how this felt. But it didn’t make it any easier. Is she going to tell me he’s gone?
