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I was lying in a puddle of her blood.

“Tell me the rest, and I’ll decide,” she whispered.

I made a sound in the back of my throat. One that sounded like a wounded bear that wasn’t doing too well.

Fuck.

I heard crying.

I wasn’t sure who.

I didn’t care.

Anyone could hear my life story and I’d be okay with it, as long as it kept those beautiful gray eyes looking in my direction.

Gray eyes that were filling with tears.

“What else do you want to know?” I asked. “Do you want to know that I promised myself I’d never love someone like that again? What about how I made it my life’s mission to rid this place of every single sick pedophilic fuck this world has to offer after my wife decided our children would be better off being dead than living in a world that allowed that to happen? Or, how about how I fell in love with a girl who ate my favorite macaroni, and let me know without saying a word that she was here to stay, whether I liked it or not?”

“Someone’s coming.”

That’s when I heard the blades of a helicopter slicing through the air.

It landed close, but I didn’t notice, or care, as I talked to the woman lying on the ground bleeding beside me.

“I want to get married,” I said quietly.

A tear spilled over.

“I want you to live with me. Go through all my things. Steal my clothes. Reorganize my bathroom…” I trailed off when someone said, “Get out of the way.”

I was forcibly moved, and then I watched in sick horror as the metal beam that’d stayed across her hips was lifted off by six men.

Six men that I couldn’t place.

Not with my vision getting blurry.

“We’re out of here,” someone said.

Then they were lifting her on a yellow backboard and practically running to the waiting helicopter that I could still hear running somewhere beyond where we were.

“Boss,” Jareth said quietly. “You need to be looked at, too.”

I knew I did.

I’d taken a gunshot wound to the shoulder, the right thigh, and the back of my left calf.

I forced myself to get up, shaking off Jareth’s attempt to help, and stared at the ground for long seconds.

There was so much blood.

Even for two people, it was too much.

Death was in the air, and I swallowed hard.

“Holy fuck,” I heard someone say.

I looked to the door to find Price Crow, the owner of my cleaning company, staring at the mess. “Everyone okay?”

What he meant was ‘everyone who needs to be okay.’

“No,” I rasped. “No.”

“Boss,” Jareth said again. “You need to go.”

I knew I needed to go.

I just couldn’t make myself move.

“What’s the ETA on the Life Flight?” I asked.

“Mackenzie really came through,” Jareth said. “He got the bird here in less than four minutes. The closest trauma center is a seven-mile flight away as the crow flies. The flight crew estimated that she’d be there in less than three minutes. In the trauma room in seven. Ambulance is here, though. Let’s get you to it.”

I nodded once.

Then I collapsed.

CHAPTER 20

On the inside, I’m hootin’. On the outside, I’m hollerin’.

-Text from Crimson to Winston

CRIMSON

“News of this is going to hit the media any second,” I heard someone snarl. “Keene, you and Hannibal need to go right now and find this Dario Espada. Contain him until we can ask questions, but make sure he doesn’t bolt. Which he is going to do.”

Dario Espada.

Who was that?

It was the last thought I had before I passed out.

• • •

“Sunny.”

Sunny. Stay with me, Sunny.

The second time he’d called me that, I was bleeding out on the ground and he was bent over holding my neck with his monstrously big hand.

My sisters had been screaming around me, shrieking that Jessup—sweet but quiet Jessup—had just shot their sister. The tent had fallen over after my body had been forcibly slammed into the main pillar in the middle holding it aloft, and the first thing I’d seen when that fabric was ripped off of me was Winston’s terrified face.

He looked horrified.

And I’d heard him say ‘Sunny’ over and over again.

In between the most horrible life recap I’d ever heard.

“Sunny.”

I blinked open one bleary eye and stared at the ceiling.

“Sunny.”

Then I saw Jareth there, staring at me, looking haggard.

“Hey,” I croaked.

Why was he here?

“I’m here because boss wanted me to check on you,” he explained. “Your family is out in the waiting area getting updated by the doc. But I came here because I wanted to see your eyes open. He needs to know that you’re alive before he decides to follow where he thinks you might be.”

I swallowed hard. “Is he okay?”

Why would he be following me anywhere?

“He was shot three times,” he said. “One was a flesh wound. That was the shot he took to the calf. The right thigh was a bit worse, but still something that should heal in about six weeks. It’s his shoulder that’s gonna take the most time to heal. At least three months is the suggestion the doc’s giving his parents. But the bullet nicked an artery, and they’re taking him in for surgery shortly to repair it.”

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