AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her lips part and she inhales softly at my touch. We stand frozen for several heartbeats, the space between us suddenly charged with crackling electricity. My fingers still linger against the warm skin of her collarbone, and I want nothing more than to slide them up the curve of her neck to draw her mouth to mine. Clara seems to sway toward me unconsciously, her lashes fluttering...
But then she stiffens abruptly and takes a quick step back, severing the connection. Her focus darts around the gallery behind me and I turn, immediately scanning for potential threats. But nothing seems amiss - the other patrons continue to mill about quietly, absorbed in studying the displays around them.
I face Clara again with a questioning look. Her fingers worry at her pendant once more, eyes darting toward the entrance of the gallery. "I think we should head out now," she murmurs, a faint undercurrent of panic in her soft voice.
My senses heighten in response to her unease. I offer my arm, "Of course."
We move briskly back through the galleries the way we came, with me keeping Clara tucked close to my side. The other patrons are focused on the artworks and nothing seems clearly out of place, yet Clara's sudden distress has put me on alert. Some kind of instinct or sixth sense must be warning her of impending danger - she's proven quite perceptive in the short time I've known her.
We've just stepped out of the shadowed interior of the gallery into the sunlit steps outside the building when the first percussive crack of a gunshot rings out. Chaos instantly erupts as people begin screaming and frantically diving for cover wherever they can. I react on pure instinct, whirling around to shield Clara's body with mine as I swiftly draw my own concealed handgun from inside my suit jacket.
"Get down!" I yell urgently over the panicked cries. Clara immediately crouches low behind the meager cover of the pillar just outside the doorway.
At least half a dozen armed men have appeared as if from nowhere and now stalk purposefully through the street with guns aimed unwaveringly at the gallery's entrance where we're trapped. Museum security guards and a few of my own men who also accompanied us are returning fire as they dive for more strategic defensive positions. But whoever these hostile bastards are, they clearly came prepared and outnumber us.
I risk another glance down at Clara's terrified face, forcing myself to block out the screams and barrage of gunfire. Her normally fair complexion is ghostly pale now, eyes huge. "When I say run, head straight for the car," I tell her firmly. "Dante will be waiting."
Before she can reply, I pivot out from behind the partial safety of the pillar, steadying my arm to sight down the first assailant approaching our position. My finger squeezes the trigger in one smooth motion, and I watch dispassionately as the man drops heavily to the ground with a clean head shot. Return fire instantly peppers the ground at my feet in response and I duck down again just as bullets slam into the pillar inches from my head, sending stone fragments flying. Adrenaline floods my system, heightening my senses and refining my focus to razor sharpness.
Staying low in a crouch, I move swiftly along the entrance, pausing only long enough to squeeze off a few more tightly controlled shots. Two more black-clad attackers hit the ground, but there are still too damn many swarming, cutting down anyone in their way.
Just as I'm about to pick off another target, liquid fire suddenly tears through the flesh of my left bicep as a bullet grazes me. The searing force of the impact causes me to stagger back a step with a hiss, reflexively clamping my hand down over the wound. Dark red blood oozes hotly over my fingers.
Gritting my teeth against the throbbing pain, I call out, "Go Clara, run! Now!"
She bolts from her crouched position without hesitation, nearly stumbling on the hem of her sundress before regaining her footing. I lay down covering fire for her, dropping another of the attackers with a lethal head shot before scrambling down the steps myself right behind her.
My arm feels like it's on fire, but I push through the pain by sheer force of will alone. Through the chaos I spot Dante up ahead, gesturing urgently by the open rear door of the waiting town car, its sleek black form stark against the carnage. Clara dives into the backseat and I fire off two more quick rounds from my handgun before my leg nearly buckles under me.
Clenching my jaw so hard my teeth ache, I lunge the last few feet to the haven of the car, throwing myself across the leather seat. I slam the door shut just as Dante floors the gas pedal. The tires squeal loudly as he maneuvers the car into a sharp one-eighty, narrowly avoiding a big black SUV with dark tinted windows that came tearing up the street toward us.
I twist around in the seat, firing out the back window to take out the SUV's front tire before it can pursue us. The vehicle violently swerves, then slams into a light post with a resounding metallic crunch. Dante turns a corner sharply, putting more distance between us and the gallery. Only then do I allow myself to draw in a ragged breath, the pain and adrenaline still making my heart race wildly.
"Antonio!" Clara's panicked cry draws me back to the present. I glance down to see vivid red staining my once pristine white shirt, the fabric growing wet and heavy. Her frightened gaze lifts to meet mine, glassy with unshed tears. "You're bleeding!"
I peel my soaked jacket off and toss it aside before carefully probing the wound. The bullet seems to have only grazed my bicep rather than penetrating deeper. I offer Clara what I hope is a reassuring smile, despite the fire radiating from my arm. "Just a scratch, nothing serious. I'll be fine." But even as I say the words, my head is growing lighter, vision starting to blur at the edges. Blood loss. I blink rapidly, trying to regain control.
Gentle hands suddenly press down over the freely bleeding wound, staunching the flow. I hiss instinctively at the spike of pain the pressure causes. Clara's worried face hovers over me as she keeps applying direct pressure to the area. "This is all my fault," she chokes out, emotion cracking her voice. "You got shot because of me."
I weakly shake my head in denial, even that small motion igniting bright sparks of pain behind my eyes. "Wasn't your fault..." I rasp out.
Clara's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she maintains pressure on the injury, face etched with distress.
Before long, the car pulls up to the ornate front entrance of the mansion. The door opens and Clara's gentle grip anchors me.
"We're home now, Antonio," she soothes. "Let's get you inside where it's safe."
Dante appears and carefully helps me from the car. The change in position ignites fresh waves of pain and I can't hold back a low groan through gritted teeth. Black spots momentarily swarm my vision. Clara's grip on me only tightens, providing support.
Soon I'm laid out on top of my bed upstairs, my blood-soaked shirt cut away to expose the freely bleeding wound. Our family doctor, Aldo, bends over me, his wrinkled face lined with concentration as he prods the injury. I barely register the sting when they cleanse the area with antiseptic, body leaden with fiery pain that seems to have sunk into my very bones.
"The bullet passed clean through the flesh without hitting bone," Aldo announces in his gravelly voice. "No serious damage done, but you've lost a substantial amount of blood. I'll stitch you up now."
I give a faint nod of assent before turning my head to find Clara hovering anxiously in the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself for comfort. Our eyes meet across the room, and I try to summon a reassuring smile for her. "I'll be alright," I rasp out hoarsely.
She nods, green eyes overbright with emotion. "I'll let you rest then."
Exhaustion chooses that moment to overtake me once more. The edges of my vision rapidly closing in to blackness. The last thing I glimpse through the encroaching shadows is Clara's retreating form slipping through the bedroom door before darkness rushes up to claim me entirely.
