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Am I dead? Is this what it feels like to be dead?
Yes, he definitely needs a new cleaning crew.
The screams intensify; the gunshots are louder.
Chaos intruding on the calm.
I realize my mouth is open, and I’m contributing to the sound of the screams. But I can’t seem to shut off the panicked noise erupting up out of my throat.
I clutch at Rio’s shirt, feeling his heart pounding against my chest and hearing his growl of rage as he reaches for his gun.
No! I scrabble at his arm. No more guns.No more.
But he evades my grip and rolls off me, up onto his knees. He points his gun and shoots before I can stop him. The blast is so loud it deafens me. I want to yell at him to stay down. To stay safe. To let his men do what is needed and keep him from getting a bullet. He’s the target; he has to be.
Who else would they be gunning for? Whoevertheyare.
He’s going to be a father, and he may be dead in a few seconds.Imay be dead in a few seconds’ time.
And my baby…
I curl up my legs until I’m lying in a tight little ball, my arms around my knees. I think I may be rocking back and forth. I can’t tell. There is too much movement and noise and the screaming and gunfire… It’s everywhere around me.
I should close my eyes. I don’t want to see death coming for me and my baby.
But I can’t seem to stop looking. And death has taken up residence in every direction.
The businessman with the cold eyes is lying on the floor a few feet away from me. At least, hehadcold eyes. Now, he just looks vacant; empty.
Even as I gape at him, noting the blood-rimmed hole in his throat, I hear a voice calling my name.
“Bianca. Move. Now.” It’s Leon the goon, crawling toward me across the floor. He grips my arm and drags me to my feet. “Move, woman.”
I just keep staring at him. I can’t seem to make my brain work. Or my limbs. He shoves me forward, not in the direction of the elevator but the other way, down a hallway and toward a set of stairs I never even knew existed.
He shields me with his body as he drags me away from the fight.
“Wait!” Jesus Christ, am I still screaming? Finally, I manage to control the sound, swallowing down the terror until only the occasional moan escapes. “Rio. Where is he? Is he—”
“Danelli has him covered. I need to get you to saf—”
Pop pop pop. Leon’s eyes widen as he stares at me, then his mouth slackens, and the life simply disappears out of his features. He crumples to the floor at my feet.
I stare down at him. He’s dead, too? Just like that. I’ve been there when animals have had to be euthanized at the rescue center, but I’ve never seen a human being die. Right in front of my eyes. One moment alive and the next…nothing.
I look back and see men still firing guns, yelling, screaming, people running all over the place, around the dead bodies, slipping in all the blood…
Where is my husband?
I stumble back toward the bar. I don’t even know what I’m planning. Where I’m going. What I’m supposed to do in this mess of horror.
Then I realize I’m screeching his name. “Rio.Rio.” Over and over.There. I see him, gun raised and pointing at someone. Who? Is that… “Anders?”
Carlos Rossi’s man. Why is he here? Why is he pointing a gun at Rio? Why is…
Oh, okay, Anders is dead too. My husband just shot him. Right in the face. He has no face left. I gape down at the mess of blood and bone and brain matter all over the floor. HewasAnders. He’s not anymore.
Nothing is making sense to me. I want this to be over. I want to go home. I want my old life. I want…
