I recognized Antonio Rossi immediately from his mug shot and the brief glance I’d gotten of him as he got into his car that day we'd broken into his house. He wasn’t a very tall man, perhaps five foot ten, but looked imposing and important in his sharp suit.
"You've done well," Antonio said, an easy smile on his face, though the hard look in his eyes seemed to say, “for once”.
Another man appeared by his side. I didn't recognize him, but he had the same powerful air around him, the same calculating tilt to his face. He eyed me with almost puzzlement. "This is what all the trouble has been about? Surely not, Tony."
“It appears so, Frankie,” Antonio said. Now I knew who the other man was. He was a part of Cosa Nostra.
A woman came up behind them, touching Antonio gently on the arm. She was the only other female in the entire warehouse – at least as far as I could see – and I wondered what her part in all of this was. She looked much older than me. Early thirties, I was guessing, and had dark roots that had begun to grow out from the top of her platinum blonde hair.
All her focus was on Antonio, a doting look in her eyes. Standing on tiptoe, she whispered something in his ear. His smiled tightened.
"Fine,” he said, his eyes as cold as ice as they looked at me. “Our little chat will have to wait.” His stare shifted to someone behind me. "Put her in the back for now, Slade."
No. Please, no.
"Come on," Slade said, shoving me forward. He grinned sadistically at me, the anticipation in his eyes making me feel sick to my stomach. I backed away from him. Or at least I tried to. There was a solid wall of flesh behind me, and I cringed away from whoever I'd leaned into.
"She got you good, man," a guy chortled as he walked past. Slade's grip on my shoulder turned bruising. I wished my hands weren’t tied behind my back. I didn’t have a chance in hell in fighting my way out, but it would have made me feel less vulnerable.
“Wait,” the blonde woman said, hurrying after us. Leaning over to pull a knife out of her back pocket, she approached me. I stepped back, unsteady on my feet. Placing one hand on my arm, she used the knife to cut off the rope tying my wrists together.
“Thanks for that, Angel. Really. Thanks.” Slade sneered at the woman, looking pissed.
I brought my hands together in front of me, rubbing my arms and wrists to try and get some feeling back in them.
The woman didn't say anything to him. She didn’t even look at me, though she’d just helped me. Picking the rope off the floor, she stalked off.
Slade pushed me into a bare room that smelled distinctly of damp. A light bulb that looked like it was in the last stages of life dangled from the ceiling, barely illuminating the room. There was no window, and no furniture inside the room. I swallowed.
Rough hands pushed me to the ground. I landed hard on my hands and knees, but turned around quickly so I could see what was coming at me. Using my hands, I scrambled back from Slade, but he was on top of me before I could blink. Scared out of my mind, I screamed.
"Get off me." I struggled against him, clawing at his face. I screamed again, hoping that someone out there might take pity on me. Slade’s elbow ploughed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. A pained gasp made its way out of my mouth, and he took the opportunity to clasp his hand over it.
"April?" a voice yelled, sounding frantic. "April!"
My head jerked towards the door, my heart thudding in my chest at the sound of his voice. I’d recognize it anywhere in the world.
It was Dad. He was here.
I opened my mouth, ready to bite down hard. He seemed to read my mind, or he remembered that I'd done the exact same thing earlier, and quickly pulled back his hand. I took the opportunity to knee him hard between the legs, so glad that my hands were untied as I pushed him off of me.
I rolled away from him, jumping to my feet, but his hand shot out, clasping my ankle. I almost lost my footing, but a sudden commotion outside the warehouse distracted him.
"Drop your weapons. Drop your weapons!" Shouts and yells made their way towards us.
Oh, thank God. The FBI were here.
Slade’s eyes widened, taking on a crazed look. He jumped to his feet, and I backed away. He didn’t look back at me though, and instead bolted out of the room for the exit.
I didn't hesitate. I was off the floor and out the door right behind him.
I paused for a split second as I stepped out of the room. There were people everywhere; LSG members and the SWAT team. Some were going quietly, others clearly putting up a fight.
"April. April!" Dad was still yelling, and it brought me back to my senses.
"Dad!” I screamed. “I'm here. I'm okay. Dad.”
I pushed a door open at random, and saw that Dad was inside.
God. It felt like it had been years since I’d last seen him. I wanted to weep at the sight of him.
He was pulling and straining against a pair of rusty silver handcuffs. He looked pale and gaunt, and painfully thin. My heart ached at the sight of him.
"April," he whispered, stilling when he saw me. His warm green eyes, identical to mine, filled with emotion.
"Dad," I cried, running to him. He enveloped me in one arm, the other still handcuffed to a pipe on the wall. Feeling how incredibly thin he was through the baggy clothes he wore, I felt fury at those who had done this to him.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, closing his eyes. Had he always looked so old? His face looked tired, a dark beard, peppered with grey, covering half his face. I'd never seen him so disheveled.
"That doesn’t matter now," I told him, tears welling in my eyes. "We just need to get out of here."
"It might be better if we waited for things to calm down outside," he said, looking towards the door. As if to accentuate his words, a loud gunshot went off. It reverberated across the warehouse, leaving behind a chilly silence.
I took an involuntary step towards the door, panic and dread encompassing me. “Oh god. What if that was Kellan?"
"Kellan's here?" Dad asked sharply, before shaking his head. "Can you get the key for me, April?
It’s on that hook by the door.”
I looked to where he'd indicated and saw that he was right. There was a key right there.
"Why would they keep it so close to you?" I asked, fumbling with the keys.
"Just within arm’s reach?" Dad said grimly. "It's amusing to them."
I tried the smallest key first, releasing a relieved sigh when it worked. He shook off the handcuff, and enveloped me into a strong – yet brief – hug.
"April! April?" I heard Kellan yelling through the chaos. I froze. He was here. And somehow he knew that I was here, too.
I stepped forward without thought, only realizing I'd moved when Dad pulled me behind him.
"Stay here," he murmured, moving towards the door himself. He peered out just as another gunshot went off. It was so loud, I swear my bones rattled at the sound of it. There was a thumping noise that sounded like someone hitting the floor.
Dad was suddenly wrenching the door open and disappearing into the fray.
I stared after him for only a moment. There was only one thing, only one person, aside from me, that could have made him move so fast.
Kellan.
I caught the door before it swung shut. There were arrests still being made. An FBI agent tackled a man to the floor just a few feet from me. Placing a knee on his back, the agent handcuffed the man and roughly pulled him up to his feet. My eyes searched the room before finally settling on Dad, crouched beside a body on the floor.
The ground moved beneath my feet.
"Kellan," I whispered, swaying. Oh, God, no.
Running to them, I dropped to my knees beside Kellan. He was pale, so pale. A deep red stain coated his side, growing larger by the second as a pool of dark red blood spread across the floor. I stroked his hair, my hand lingering on his face.
"Don't worry, ball
erina. I'll live," Kellan croaked as Dad placed his hand on the wound, trying to still the blood flow. "Takes more than a small scratch to do me in."
My smile was tremulous. "It looks like more than just a small scratch," I said softly, fear cloaking my heart.
“Get paramedics in here. Now,” I heard Nathan bark to someone.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Dad on the other side of Kellan, looking between the two of us.
Kellan's eyes shifted to Dad, and they seemed to have a whole silent conversation.
There was a sudden burst of movement several feet away from us. Antonio, eyes wide and crazed, pulled a knife out from under a box. Max, who'd been in the process of handcuffing him, jumped back, narrowly avoiding it.
Antonio shot to his feet, swinging the knife about widely. He darted forward, grabbing the person closest to him.
Me.
I felt the coolness of the sharp metal against my throat and fought the urge to swallow.
"Stand up," he said hoarsely. "Now. Put your hands up."
I stood slowly, seeing Kellan jerk as I moved back from him. Dad was still, his eyes assessing the situation.
Antonio pressed down harder on the knife, and I felt a dribble of warm blood trickle down my throat.
He began moving back towards the exit, clumsy in his hurry.
I saw Nathan lift his gun and then hesitate. I was standing right in front of Antonio. If he pulled the trigger, it was likely that he’d also hit me.
I didn’t know what Antonio was planning. There would be at least a dozen officers waiting outside. This could not end well.
I saw the second Nathan made up his mind to shoot. He cocked the gun, and I reacted without thinking, jerking my head back with all the strength I had left in me. Antonio grunted in pain, his grip slackening.
I wrenched myself free of his hold, just as Nathan pulled the trigger. The shot rang out. A body hit the floor.
I collapsed into Dad’s arms. Free. We were free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
* * *
- THEN -
Four years ago
MOM LAY QUIET and still on the hospital bed. Her eyes were closed, but I knew she was still awake. The pained lines on her forehead, and around her mouth, were still there, only really disappearing when she was asleep.
"You need... to have... lunch," Mom whispered so quietly I had to lean in close to hear her.
"I'll go in a bit. I'm not hungry," I told her, sending her a quick smile. She was always thinking of others – even now – as she lay weak and exhausted on the hospital bed. I did my best to smile when I was around her – though often I'd have liked nothing better than to break down and cry. "Don't worry about me, Mom. Just go to sleep, I know you're tired."
I stroked her hair, knowing it helped lull her to sleep. There had only been a few sessions of chemotherapy this time before the doctors had announced that the cancer had spread too far to continue.
Mom turned her head towards me. Her eyes, a lovely translucent blue, looked big against her delicate face. She’d lost so much weight.
"Sing to me?" she said, her lips barely moving. Her eyes still shone with love and affection as they looked at me. It was her body that was giving up on her, not her inner light.
"Any requests?" I asked, moving my hand to hold hers. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly. Her energy was fading fast.
I began to sing my favorite lullaby – one she’d sang to me when I was younger. She'd fallen asleep quickly when I'd sang it to her yesterday. Though she was often tired, she hardly slept. But she needed her rest. She needed her strength.
She was in so much pain, it hurt to see it. She'd get through this, though. She had to. Anything else was unthinkable.
We'd all had the scare of our lives last week when the doctors had given her just half an hour to live. I'd never felt so helpless in my entire life. Just thinking about how I'd felt that day, standing beside Dad, and waiting for the worst, made my heart ache.
She'd pulled through, though. She would pull through again.
There was a small smile on her face as I sang, and it warmed me inside and out. I wished that I'd remembered to bring my guitar, but I'd been in a hurry to get here this morning, wanting to spend as much time with Mom as I could.
Her eyes slipped shut as I carried on singing. There was a slight scraping noise as a chair moved beside me. I glanced over to see Kellan settling into another chair. There was an apologetic grimace on his face as he sat down and gestured for me to carry on singing.
Dad was right behind him. He walked towards the opposite side of the bed, on the other side of Mom, and clasped her other hand in his. He hadn’t worked at all since last week and had only gone home last night after Mom had insisted that he needed a shower and a shave. Kellan and I had laughed as Dad tried fruitlessly to argue with her. Even exhausted, she was a force to be reckoned with.
Mom was asleep by the time I finished singing the lullaby for the second time. I placed my hand on her chest gently, feeling it rise slowly as she breathed in and out.
I leaned my chin against her pillow, reassured by the beat of her heart.
It was a mere hour later that I felt her heartbeat stutter against my hand. I sat up straight, and Dad shot up too.
Her chest rose one final time, and then it didn't move again. She slipped away in her sleep. There was no goodbye. No last chance to tell her how much I loved her. Nothing. And I didn't think that I could ever hurt that much again in my entire life.
- NOW -
I crossed my arms on the side of the bed, leaning my chin on top of them as I stared at him.
Wake up, wake up, I mentally willed him. A machine beeped steadily beside me, but Axel didn't stir. It had been two agonizing days since that day in the warehouse, and Axel had yet to wake up.
The very thought of our last conversation hurt. We had to fix things. He had to wake up sooner or later. He had to.
The door opened, and a nurse stepped into the room. Her eyes slid to the bruises lining my hairline and the cut on my neck before she met my eyes.
"We need to change his bandages now, honey," she said, a sympathetic look on her face.
"Oh, okay," I murmured, kissing him on the forehead before I stood up. The image of his beautiful, swollen, and bruised face would stay with me all day.
I kept replaying things over and over again in my mind, the guilt heavy in my gut. This never would have happened if it weren’t for me. He should never have been there at Phoenix’s place that day.
With a final look back at him, pale and unmoving, I left. I didn't go far, though, and walked two doors down to where Dad was.
There was a cop stationed outside his door. He was sitting on a chair, doing nothing. I ignored him as I stepped into Dad's room. It was completely stupid. A waste of time. And a waste of police resources. Dad wasn’t going anywhere.
He was sitting up as I walked in. A number of pillows were propped up behind him as he read a book. It was refreshing to see. I hadn’t seen him read for fun since he became a bounty hunter.
"Hey, you," I said, approaching his bed.
He looked up, his face breaking into a smile. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his smile fading the longer he looked at me. He used a leaflet to mark his place in the book, and I saw that he was wearing his wedding band. There had been tears in his eyes when I'd given it to him. I'd understood, without him having to say it, that he’d thought he’d never see it again. "Have you just been to see Axel?"
I nodded, taking a seat by the head of his bed. He didn't ask if Axel was awake – there was no need to. It was a waiting game now. All we could do was wait and hope.
"It's all my fault,” I whispered, it taking one look at Dad's understanding face to voice what had been bothering me for the past few days.
"No, it isn't," Dad said immediately.
"He shouldn't have been there. None of them should have been there," I whispere
d, feeling tortured. "I got them involved–"
"April, no." Dad leaned forward, his hand grasping mine. The other one stayed under the covers where I knew it was handcuffed to the bedpost. Although he’d worked with Nathan and the FBI, he’d still likely be facing a penalty for his initial involvement with the LSG. It was another thing that worried me. He was being released from the hospital tomorrow, and he'd be going straight to a courthouse. "If anything, I was the one–“
"Oh, Dad." I sighed, tears clogging my throat. "You're not the one that hurt them. You didn't beat Axel into a coma. You're not the one who hit Poppy so hard over the head that she... that she–“
There was a knock on the door, and I hastily wiped my face. Kellan stepped inside the room, his entrance a far cry from how he usually walked into a room. The bullet had pierced his hip, and he’d be needing crutches for the next several weeks. Judging from the less than pleased expression on his face, he still wasn't happy about it. I'd left him arguing with his doctor about it earlier.
"Thanks," he muttered to the cop who'd opened the door for him. “How you doing, Mario?”
“I’ve been better,” Dad said, and Kellan nodded in understanding.
"You ready to go?" I asked him, clearing my throat. He'd been released less than an hour ago.
"I could get a cab. You don't have to cut your visit short for me," Kellan said, his mouth pressing into a firm line as he walked – mostly hobbled – over.
"Don't be stupid," I said with a stern look. If he argued about one more thing, I'd end up whacking him over the head. He’d done nothing but complain over the past few days. Kellan did not take orders well. I got up, placing a kiss on Dad's cheek. "I'll be back in a few hours.”
"I don't want to see you until tomorrow," Dad said, shaking his head. He’d shaved earlier, and he was looking much more like himself. "Go home and get some sleep. You need to rest."
I said goodbye, not arguing with him, though I had every intention of returning once I’d gotten Kellan settled in at home. I tried to make the most of my time with Dad. After all, none of us knew how the court hearing would go tomorrow.
Above all Else Page 28