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Stars continue to spark behind my closed eyelids anytime I blink, tears ready to cascade down my cheeks. A second later, he’s got both hands wrapped around my throat and squeezing hard.
Stefan spits blood in my face. “You and my brother are going to die, here and now.”
I gasp, my lungs already burning, every part of me crying out for oxygen. I slap against him, but he’s immovable, his hold tightening like a vise.
“Merry Christmas to me.” His smile grows wider the harder I fight against him.
“Fuck you.”
The pressure releases on my neck at once, and I suck in a painful gasp, choking on the rush of air. Stefan sways on top of me as Marco strikes again, using one of the golden candlesticks from the table to bash in the side of his brother’s head a second time. More blood rains down on me, but Stefan finally topples and lands on his side, Marco looming over him—over us.
“You’re done,” Marco whispers.
I cough, every inhalation a struggle. The tightness in my chest is painful, but Marco…is alive. He’s okay.
Half a second later, the front door of the mansion explodes inward, with Angela Ramos leading the pack as the FBI storms the house.
CHAPTER12
Marco
Bashing my brother’s brains in took more out of me than I bargained for, and my legs, the traitors, give out on me once more. I join Stefan on the ground, my head spinning and the rest of me going light at the same time, but Lacey is there in an instant. Her entire focus remains on me, despite her work colleagues securing the premises.
“Marco. Listen to me. Hey, over here. Look at me.” Her hands are on my cheeks, forcing me to turn in her direction, even when the movement causes pain to flicker through my torso.
Blacking out had been a real option for a minute there, when not moving made sense to avoid the hailstorm of bullets tearing the dining room apart. Somehow, I’d managed to open my eyes long enough to see Stefan pull Lacey behind the buffet table.
Ermilo leaving had been a stroke of good luck, the noise loud and obnoxious. It pulled me back from the edge, even though it took every last bit of my resolve to make it to my feet, to take advantage of Stefan’s distraction while I grabbed one of the massive centerpiece candlesticks.
No hesitation, and he went down like a bitch.
“Marco?” Lacey is calling my name again, and the soft soprano of her voice is distinguishable even with the din of the agents in the room, calling for the scene to be secured.
They got here right on time but damn, a few minutes earlier wouldn’t have hurt.
We’re both breathing hard, staring at each other as though it’s a precious moment we’ve somehow been given, to simply be alive together. My head spins like a kid shaking a fish in a bag, and the blood loss makes it difficult for me to think straight, but I see Lacey kneeling in front of me, dragging her beautiful gown through the blood stains on the floor in an attempt to get to me. She trails her fingers along my face, down my front, over the top of the hand still clutching the candlestick until I drop it.
“Marco, are you okay?” she asks. “You’re still bleeding. Where did he get you?”
I groan when she pushes my shirt to the side, the change coming over her face in an instant. Worry is still there, but the cop has taken over control, her law enforcement mode engaged and all the logical, step-by-step crap at work again.
She pries my suit jacket down off my shoulders before she starts to unbutton my shirt. Once the fabric is pushed aside, she probes the area, noting the entrance wound in the lower part of my abdomen and the exit wound at my back.
It’s nothing terrible, I want to tell her. The shock is getting to me more than anything, since I hadn’t really expected to be shot tonight.
“Okay. We need to stem the bleeding before you lose any more blood. Right now, it seems to be a clean shot. Trust me on this.” She reaches down to rip off a piece of fabric from the bottom of her dress, uncaring about the stains on her as she winds the material around me. “I know what I’m talking about.”
Uncaring about the activity around us as the FBI secures the scene. A roar cuts through the confusion, and I turn my head in time to see a pair of officers hauling Stefan off the floor, maneuvering him around and yanking his arms behind his back to slap the cuffs over his wrists.
It’s a beautiful sight. A long overdue one, but beautiful nonetheless.
He had the same look on his face as he had earlier, smack dab in the middle of his tantrum, except he is covered in blood from my hits and Lacey breaking his nose. It’s almost poetic, in a way. Even if he tries to fight, there’s no getting away.
“I’m fine,” I try to assure her, but it does nothing to stop the small noise of concern and the clucking of her tongue as she studies me. “Don’t worry so much.”
The words come out, just barely, and definitely not with the insistence I’d intended.
“Of course I’m worried about you. Are you out of your mind?” She’s pale, her hair redder against the whiteness of her skin, her eyes such a deep blue, a man could drown in them. Such deep waters, such a strong and amazing woman. Powerful, beautiful, compassionate.
