“Daddy…” I whisper, reaching out to him.
I’m too far away to touch him. If he could move, he’d reach me. I know he would.
Marty strikes a match and tosses it to the floor, igniting the gas flung around the room. It spreads fast, covering the entire auditorium with the crackling, orange flame.
If I don’t move, I’ll die.
I push up onto my arms, struggling to carry my own weight. My knee seethes, refusing to move me across the hard, wooden floor. I fight through it, kicking my left knee behind me while the right one drags against the stage.
Marty and his men retreat from the auditorium, slamming the doors closed behind them. I can’t make it through the burning seats anyway and I’d be foolish to even try, especially with only one leg.
Smoke reaches my nose. I keep my head down, crawling backstage, whimpering as my knee scrapes across the floor. Flames race even closer, climbing toward me faster than I can move.
I grew up in this building. I should know a way out, some emergency exit that will save me, but my mind is a far too preoccupied with the pain owning my body. I slide past the boxes of props and the old set pieces and the dressing rooms.
This is the last time I’ll ever see them.
“Help!”
Maybe there’s someone left inside. Maybe someone hid when they heard gunfire.
“Help me!”
I make it to the hallway door and push up onto my working knee to try and shove it open. It refuses to budge, blocked off from the outside.
“Help me!”
I pound on it. I scream even louder. Each passing second, my fate becomes clearer.
I’m going to die here.
“Please…”
I collapse against the door. I cry. I weep. The air around me is thick and gray. The fire has reached the curtains, igniting the air above me, burning through the oxygen.
Hopefully, I’ll die before the flames reach me.
“Lucy!”
A single voice lost behind fire. I almost don’t even hear it. Honestly, I probably don’t and it’s just my mind losing oxygen.
“Lucy!”
That’s no hallucination.
That’s—
“Dante?”
Tears run over my eyelids. I see a shape across the stage, large and black. A devil amongst the flames. He comes closer, dodging the falling debris as it rains down from the ceiling.
“Lucy!”
He touches my face and his features sharpen in my vision. Startling, blue eyes stand out in the smoke against his sweat-covered skin.
“Lucy, look at me! You’re going to be okay…”
I push him away. “No…” I shake my head. “This is your fault—”
“We have to go—”
“Get away from me! This is all your fault!” He grabs me again. I ball my hands into fists to fight him off. I try to kick him but a blinding pain reminds me of why I can’t. “Don’t touch me!”
“Lucy—”
“No! He was looking for you! All of this happened because of you—”
Dante pulls me forward and shifts around my back faster than I can react. He wraps his arm around my throat, dodging every swipe I make at him. Within seconds, I can’t breathe and my head swims for air.
He’s choking me.
I bash his arms, each strike feeling weaker than the last.
He’s killing me.
My body gives up.
I relax into his cruel, heartless embrace as the pain fades away.
Chapter 17
Dante
Six. Seven. Eight…
I loosen my grip, knowing that she’ll get brain damage if I hold her much longer. She goes completely limp, drifting off into a sleep her body won’t let her wake from. She’s too weak right now, too shocked to come back to me, but it’s for her own good.
Lucy, I’m so sorry…
I didn’t make it in time.
I force open the door, breaking through the board Marty’s men slid between the handles, and rush down the hall toward the theater’s back exit with her in my arms. Her knee shines red in the fluorescent lights, swollen and completely jacked up.
The knee. Why did he have to go for the knee?
This wasn’t an interrogation. This was personal.
One inch. I missed the headshot by one inch. The bullet only grazed him. I didn’t bother sticking around to confirm the kill.
One bad day. That’s all it takes to create a killer and I pushed Marty right over the fucking edge.
She’s right.
This is my fault.
I kick open the back exit and she nearly slips from my grasp. I jerk her upright, resting her head against my shoulder while I adjust my hand beneath her knees, trying hard not to do even more damage as I walk across the parking lot.
She didn’t deserve this.
But I know someone who does.
I put Lucy into the passenger seat of my car and strap her in to keep her upright. Her eyelids flutter a bit, but she can’t bring herself out of it yet. Good. The last thing I want is her fighting me right now and she will as soon as she comes to. She made that perfectly clear when she told me to get away from her while her world burned down around her.
I lower the seat to make it more comfortable for her. She looks so helpless and weak, two words I never would have thought to describe her with until now. Beautiful and strong Lucy Vaughn.
I lay my jacket across her to keep her warm before closing her inside.
Now, where is that motherfucker?
I train my ears, listening for the sound of squealing tires or revving engines, anything that will indicate he’s on the move or where he’s going.
Sirens. A lot of them.
I can’t chase after Marty without drawing unwanted attention. I sure as hell can’t stick around here to get caught with an unconscious, beaten ballerina in my car.
Looks like we’re running.
I climb into the driver’s seat and reach over to feel Lucy’s neck for her pulse. It’s there; slow, steady, but strong. She’ll survive, but I’m not sure how she’ll feel about that. That stage was a fucking bloodbath and she saw the whole damn thing. Witnessing something like that does something to you, but I won’t let her fade away. Not like I did.
Lucy stirs at my touch and her glossy eyes open. Her lashes stick together with dry tears and sticky make-up residue stains her cheeks. She winces at the slightest twitch of her body.
“Try not to move,” I tell her, laying my hand on her face. “I’m going to get you some help.”
“Don’t touch me.”
I grab the car keys from my pocket. The sirens sound louder, inching closer to us with each second but I can’t take my eyes off her. Her chest heaves up and down. Her jaw is tight and flexed. She’s in extreme pain. All because of me.
I turn the ignition. “Try to get some rest—”
“Fuck you.”
I stare straight ahead and drive out of the lot. We travel three blocks and ease into the late afternoon traffic as countless police cars whiz by us along with two fire engines lagging behind them.
Black clouds rise into the sky. I glance back at them in the rearview mirror. Lucy’s entire world has gone up in smoke.
I know how that feels.
“Take me home.”
I look over at her red, determined eyes. “No.”
“Take me home.”
“You don’t want to go home.”
“Why not?”
“Because he went there first looking for you,” I answer. “I saw it myself. The entire place was destroyed.”
“I don’t care—”
“Lucy, I can help you.”
“I don’t want your help, Mr. Hart.”
She’s never made my name sound quite as contemptuous before.
I look back to the road with my mouth shut, concentrating on the only thing I can control.
Get Lucy out of the city. Don’t look back. Hope Elijah and Lilah don’t ta
ke too long getting to the house.
Lucy sobs quietly to herself. Her memory must be clearing up. She’ll remember everything. Every sound, every smell, every drop of blood. Every single detail of today will stick with her for the rest of her life.
She shifts slightly, forcing all her weight into her left leg as she moves, and bites her lip to keep from screaming in pain.
“Don’t move—”
“Shut up.”
“I just want to help you, Lucy.”
She chuckles darkly. “You’ve done a real bang-up job, Mr. Hitman. Why did they even come after me?”
“Because they found out I was in Snake Eyes.”
Lucy turns her head. “Is that it? Because you were exposed?”
“Yes, and…” I pause. “And I kinda shot Marty in the face.”
“When?”
“This morning. Right after you left, he showed up.”
“You mean right after you kicked me out.”
“Lucy—”
“Why would they even care about Snake Eyes anyway? Aren’t you all senseless fucking killers?”
“I’ve been undercover in the Zappia family for six months,” I explain. “That’s when we discovered our data leak. Our master file was taken. It’s a list of every member in Snake Eyes and it could potentially bring down the entire organization if the wrong hands got hold of it. The next thing we knew, the Russian mob started picking us off. One agent here, a few more there. It was obvious where they got that information, so my boss sent agents to infiltrate notable mob families to make sure no one else caught wind of it — and if they did, our job was to take care of it.”
She swallows hard. “And Spencer?”
“What about him?”
“Was he an agent, too?”
I bite my tongue, refusing the instinct to lie to her. “Yes.”
“Is that why he tried to kill me?”
“It was protocol.”
“Protocol?”
“It’s called a Code Zero,” I explain. “If we were ever compromised, we were trained to take out anyone who knew anything, abandon our posts, and await further instruction.”
“But I didn’t know anything!”
“You saw my tattoo,” I say. “That was enough for him.”
A hard laugh shakes her face. “So, if you’d never fucked me, this wouldn’t have happened to me?”
“Logically speaking, yes.”
“This is all your fault, then.”
“Lucy, I take full responsibility for what’s happened to you. I won’t debate that.”
She leans forward with hatred in her eyes. The setting sun shines through her window, casting a deep, orange light on her wet cheeks. “Why would you even get involved with me, then? Or anybody for that matter? You knew this was possible from the start—”
“The odds of Snake Eyes being exposed… it was one in a million.”
“But not impossible.”
“Statistically improbable.”
“Then, how did it even happen?”
Anger spikes inside. “I have a pretty good idea and you can guarantee I’ll put a bullet in his head if I ever see him again.”
“None of that answers my question,” she says. “Why did you get involved with me when you knew this was a possibility?”
“Because I needed you.”
It comes out weaker than I intended it to but I’ve never said anything like it before.
“You needed me?!” she shouts, wincing in pain as her foot jerks slightly.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t—” I turn back to the road. “I don’t know why. I just did.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Lucy, I’m sorry—”
“Fuck your needs, you selfish prick!” She bares her teeth in fury. “What about my needs? Did it seem like I needed this?! Or you?”
I take a quick breath, holding back my own rage. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough either.”
I stare ahead, fighting the urge to knock her out again. “I’m not the type of guy you want to piss off, Lucy.”
She laughs. She fucking laughs at me.
“What are you going to do? Whack me? Go right ahead, there’s literally no one stopping you — myself included.”
She collapses against her seat. Her lip quivers as another crying fit takes hold of her.
I fall silent and stare into the growing darkness ahead.
Chapter 18
Dante
“Where are we?”
Lucy looks out the window with wide eyes, scanning the dense tree line hugging the car on both sides.
“Geneva Lake,” I answer.
“Wisconsin?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell are we doing in Wisconsin?”
I note her upturned nose. A city girl through and through. “We’ll be safe here. I have a medic coming to check out your knee.”
She shifts in her seat again, something she’s done every few minutes since we left Chicago two hours ago. I only wish I had something to give her for the pain lingering in her eyes. She hasn’t complained about it at all, though. Still tough as nails.
We pass civilization and travel several miles more through nothing but nature. Finally, the house comes into view. It’s almost exactly as I remember it. The white paint has faded and chipped somewhat. My grandfather’s Chevy is long gone but, otherwise, it’s ripped right out of my childhood.
“What is this place?” Lucy asks.
I park in the driveway and step outside without answering her. Visions of the past dance in my mind, memories I have long forgotten about. Climbing trees in the backyard with Elijah. Running down the dock to cannonball into the lake. Fighting with Lilah over who gets the largest marshmallow for our s’mores.
Lucy throws the car door open and swings her legs out. She hisses as her right toes touch the graveled ground.
“Stop—” I tell her, quickly rounding the car.
“I got it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”
I sigh and stand back as she puts all her weight on her left leg and pushes herself up. Her leg flexes hard but she easily rights herself with little trouble.
“You still have your balance,” I say. “That’s good.”
She says nothing and throws my jacket at me. Her bare foot bounces on the rocks and I notice her face contorting with each jerk of her knee.
“Lucy, come on—” I reach out and she slaps my hand away. “You’re only making it worse.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry…” she says with sarcasm dripping from her teeth. “That’s usually your job.”
I lunge forward and grab her waist, easily throwing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Ouch!” she shrieks. “Fucking hell—!”
“Calm down.”
I kick the car door closed and carry her with me toward the house. Her little fists slam against my back but it’s clearly just for show. Finally, I reach the door and she relaxes, blowing out a loud exhale to make her annoyance loud and clear. I twist the knob but it’s locked.
“Damn…”
“Why don’t you just knock?” she quips.
“Because no one lives here anymore.” I turn around, my eyes scanning the wraparound porch.
“Watch the leg!”
I shift to the left to avoid slamming her into the banister. “Sorry…” I take us around the corner until I see the hanging flowerpot at the far end of the porch.
“What are you doing?”
I spin around, easing her closer to it. “Reach into that pot. You’ll feel a small, wooden box.”
She sighs and raises her arm up to feel inside. “Okay…”
“It slides open. Should be a spare key in it.”
I walk back to the door while she does it.
“Got it.”
I open my palm to her. She drops it in my hand. “Than
k you.”
“How did you know that was there?”
“Because, Lucy…” I slide the key in but the lock refuses to turn. A hard twist breaks the rust inside. “I used to live here.”
She snorts. “Really?”
I ignore her amused tone and step forward. Not exactly how I envisioned carrying a woman across the threshold, but I guess I’ll take it.
Another wave of memories strikes me down as I glance around the open foyer. A staircase leads up to three bedrooms and a bathroom with a toilet that probably still doesn’t work right. The living room is still just as cramped. It was never meant for entertaining three growing children, but my grandparents made it work. There’s a dining room to the left with an attached kitchen near the back. So many hours spent doing homework at that table, listening to Elijah and Lilah argue about who the hell knows what. Beneath the thick, musty air, it still smells like it always did, like my grandmother’s lilac perfume and sandalwood. The furniture remains in place, covered with thick sheets to keep the dust off.
“Can you put me down now, please?”
“Hang on…” I carry her into the living room and pull a sheet off the couch. It flicks a cloud of dust into the air around us and Lucy lets out a small sneeze. “Sorry…”
“Dick.”
I lower her off my shoulder slowly, being careful not to bend her legs too much. She settles into the cushions, leaning as far away from me as she can. “Keep it elevated—”
“I know how to treat an injury,” she snaps, grabbing the throw pillow behind her head and sliding it under her knee.
I back up and walk to the wall to try the light switch. “No power…”
There’s a generator in the shed by the lake behind the house that should still be useful. I pause, reeling from the sudden rush of memory. It’s strange how much comes back after you’ve been away for so long.
I should take care of Lucy first.
I step down the hall toward the bathroom and pull open the cabinet above the sink. It’s mostly been picked clean. Nothing but a bag of cotton balls and an old bottle of aspirin remain inside. It’ll do, I suppose.
As I make my way back to her, I stop by my grandfather’s liquor cabinet and pull the sheet off. My lips curl. His whiskey bottles are still here.
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