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This. Is. Not. Happening.
“I-Is this you?” I drag my eyes back to the ultra-composed stranger sitting in front of me. His fist is still clenched, but even as I say the words, the rational part of me is trying to comprehend what I’m witnessing.“Are you doing this?”
“Now do you believe in true power?”
“Stop it! Just stop it!” I fling myself across the table to grab his fist and prize it open, but he just dances it out of reach, taunting me with his widening smirk.
Meanwhile, in the bar, it’s like a starting gun has been fired to see which customer can act like a stampeding animal the most. Customers are running in all directions, some to help my men, but most are heading for the door.
My overriding thought is to reach them and comfort them, but when I go to stand again, that ice-hand is back wrapping itself around my wrist and stealing my breath away.
“You’re sick, Ella,” he murmurs. “I can make it all disappear for a price.”
“Let go of me!”
“Wouldn’t you like to know what ‘normal’ feels like? To walk without wincing? To wake up in the morning without every bone in your body aching? To live a life without pills and routines, doctors’ appointments, needles, and dietary requirements?”
“I’ll never be sick enough to want that from you!”
This time I get a laugh, instead of a smirk, but it’s just as frigid and hostile.“Niña estupida. Stupid girl.Tell Edier Grayson he has something that belongs to me. If he doesn’t give it back soon, I’ll be taking something of his.” I manage to wrench my wrist away, and then I’m limping to reach Antonio before it’s too late, the stranger’s last words trailing after me like black smoke. “Tell him, it’s time to fulfill his promise.”
My steps falter. “What promise?” But when I snap back to him, he’s already melting into the crowds by the front doors.
“Give them some space and dignity, Miss.” An ashen-faced doorman starts to herd me toward the doors too. “Emergency Services are on their way. Nothing more we can do. You need to leave the premises and wait for the cops.”
“Are theydead?”
His grim expression is already telling me the worst news imaginable. The place looks like a slaughterhouse and none of the men on the floor are moving anymore.
“Miss, did you hear what I said?”
Shocked into submission, I allow him to push me away.
I find myself outside, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. Ivy’s nowhere to be seen. I’m spinning wildly on a packed sidewalk, shocked faces bordering me on all sides, my eyes blinded by neon and confusion, and then two strong arms are wrapping around my shoulders and trapping me against a familiar rock-hard chest.
“Don’t fight me,Mi Cielo,” he mutters into my ear as relief washes over me. “We need to get thefuckout of here, and we need to do it now.”
I stumble as he goes to lead me to a waiting SUV. Without missing a stride, he picks me up and places me on the backseat before climbing in too.
“Go!” he hisses, punching the seat in front as Gabrio accelerates away from the curb, scattering worried onlookers, and narrowly missing the high-pitched cavalcade of arriving emergency vehicles.
By the time we’re two blocks away, I can’t hold back my tears any longer. I’ve only cried a handful of times over the years, and most of them have been Edier-related, but fear and shock are creating an impossible tsunami to resist.
Edier says nothing. He doesn’t push me for information or explanations. He just holds me close, letting me stain the front of his black shirt with my tears. At the same time, the waves of nausea are like a squall battering against the walls of my stomach. They’re coming harder and faster until the outcome is all but inevitable.
“Pull over,” I gasp, sitting up with a jerk.
He frowns. “Not—”
“I’m going to be sick, Edier, so stop the damn car if you don’t want me to make a bigger mess of your suit!”
The car screeches to a stop and I reach an empty backstreet in time. He catches my hair the first time I go down, and he doesn’t let go until the last.
Chemo sickness doesn’t come with relief. Those same waves never cease or die. It’s just a question of riding out the worst of it until your body is so shattered that sleep is the only option. I can’t even count the number of times I wretch before I’m reeling with exhaustion and falling back into his arms again.
“I’ve got you,Mi Cielo.”
But who’s got you?
