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I nibble on the end of my paint brush in thought. I get a swooping feeling in my stomach like I’m going to be sick. There’s so much on the line and so many things that can go wrong. And last time things went wrong, I was nearly killed.
But falling for Finneas Fox? That was certainly never part of the plan and makes it even more crucial that things are executed sooner rather than later. The further things go with Finn, the greater the potential for hurt.
I peer out the window and my chest squeezes seeing Finn working on his truck. He’s messing with something on the engine, his forearm leaning against the propped open hood. Since we got back from the city, he’s been working on it nearly all day every day. It tugs on my heart strings to see him back at it after so many years.
He steps back, wiping his grease covered hands on a rag. I look down at my own hands, covered in paint, and in some way I can’t explain…it feels like healing.
When I look back up he’s waving at me and I go over the window, pulling it open. “I have to run to the auto shop for a part, shouldn’t be longer than twenty minutes. You good?”
“Yep, see you soon.”
“Okay,” he smiles softly and heads to his operable car. I go back to my stool and listen to the engine rev and drive off.
It feels like mere seconds have passed when I hear the sound of crunching gravel again. I pop my head out the window, “What did you forget—”
My heart slams into my sternum when I see my father’s car creeping down the drive.
Finn
I’m probably driving faster than I should on these winding country roads, but I’m chomping at the bit to flush out the last few corroded lines. Leaving a truck in a barn for a decade tends to leave things eroded and rusted. But if I’m right, this should be the last obstacle to getting her started up and running. I can’t wait to hear that rumbly groan of her engine again.
I zoom past a whir of yellow. Realizing, it’s the patch of sunflowers I passed last week, I pull a quick U-turn. I get out of the car and cut down three big flowers, being extra careful setting them in the passenger seat where they won’t get ruined like last time. But just in case, that’s why I got three.
I speed over the gravel drive and whip behind the big house, slamming on the brakes and skidding when another car is in my usual spot.
My pulse dive bombs, and my heart nearly stutters to a stop.Fear.That’s what floods my veins. A rare and disturbing emotion that propels me out of my seat and has me sprinting to the barn. I know whoever I find won’t be a friendly. No one would come without a heads up unless they wanted to get shot on arrival.
I draw my gun before throwing open the door. The scene before me is enough to make my stomach churn. Some burly fucker I recognize, whose name I can’t remember in my fear, has Effie’s hands held behind her back as her father plows a fist into her stomach. Her legs lift off the floor, and all the air is pushed out of her lungs in a pained groan. At the sound of my entrance, Luciano spins around, stepping aside and her head is hung limply, giving me a straight shot.
Blood sprays as the bullet enters and exits the burly fucker’s head. Effie collapses without his hold, and I fight the instinct to run to her, turning my gun on Luciano. His hand is reaching behind him, and I growl, “Drop it or I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes too.”
He plucks his piece from his waistband, dangling it with his hands raised as he sets it on the ground, kicking it over to me. I pick it up and stick it in my pants. My blood is pumping and my hand shakes trying to control my trigger finger because every ounce of me is screaming to kill the man who hurt my wife.
“Finn.” Her voice is the softest velvet as she places a hand on my arm and lowers my gun. Air struggles to leave my lungs as I can barely contain my rage—rage doesn’t feel like nearly a strong enough word.
“Get the duct tape out of the top drawer, Effie.” My eyes never leave him. A slick, disgusting smirk grinning back at me. I imagine my fist knocking his fucking teeth out before I cut out his tongue.
Effie hands me the roll of tape, and I gesture for him to sit in one of the dining chairs. He only chuckles mockingly as I quickly tape him to the chair. As soon as he’s immobilized, I am going to Effie and wrapping her in my arms so tightly it would take a fucking titan to pull us apart.
I loosen my hold just enough to look her in the eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” I scan her face for any other signs of injury and don’t find any. “Are you hurt anywhere?”1
She ignores my question. Her voice is soft and airy. “You killed for me.”
I cup her cheeks, brushing the sweaty strands of hair out her face. “Baby, I’ddiefor you.”
She closes her eyes with a heavy sigh, and it hurts that she ever doubted that. “Now to deal with this piece of shit.” I pull away and face Luciano. “What to do with you?”
“Well wasn’t that a sweet moment,” he sneers.
“I don’t care if you’re her father or God reincarnate, no one hurts my wife and walks away scot-free.”
“I don’t know if it’s honorable or embarrassing,” he muses.
“What is?” I’m already sick of these games.
“You playing white knight for a snitch.” He cocks his head to the side, his mouth curling into a smug taunt. My jaw shifts, my fingers tightening around my gun as I process his words. I clench my other hand into a fist.
“Do you want to tell him or should I?” He looks past me to Effie, and I get a sinking feeling like my entire world is about to implode. “Ach, I’ll just go for it: I know about the fallout shelter. It’s only a matter of time before we figure out how to get in.”
