Page 28

Twenty-Eight

Roman

“W hat the hell happened ?” I asked again, tossing the bags to the counter before rushing over to Quinn and Rosie.

Rosie was sobbing uncontrollably as Quinn held her. I looked down at the blood smeared on the floor and then up at Quinn, needing answers from her.

“Someone got in,” she said quietly.

I raised my brows, asking the question I didn’t want Rosie to hear.

She shook her head.

“Three shots to the chest and shoulder.”

My head was spinning while I put everything together. Had I been here, none of this would have happened. First of all—no one would have gotten through the door. Second—they wouldn’t have left with a gunshot wound.

Quinn held and rocked Rosie, slowly calming her down. I went to the kitchen and put the groceries away, knowing that we wouldn’t need them here after all. There was no way that I could keep them safe with splintered wood for a door.

I pulled out my phone and called Mike, waiting for him to pick up and answer. By the third time, I was starting to get annoyed when he answered and huffed out, “now isn’t a good time, man.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“What do you mean? What happened? Is Rosie okay?” His tone immediately changed, and whatever had him stressed out a few seconds ago was now replaced with another source of worry.

“Someone just broke into my apartment.”

“Fuck. Are they okay?”

“Yeah, Quinn handled it.”

I didn’t want to get into the details about it now, and honestly, I didn’t trust Mike’s phone not to be bugged, given everything else that was happening. “What’s going on with you?”

“Saul Gomez was just rushed to the hospital. He was shot.”

“Where?” My throat was tight, and my jaw clenched. This had to be it—we had our guy. I knew that bastard was after Rosie from the moment I laid eyes on him holding her shoulder at Sandra’s house when he was supposedly helping her find the bathroom.

“Leg and abdomen. He was grabbing lunch; it was a drive-by shooting.”

“Was anyone else with him?”

“Not that I know of. We’re still waiting for more information. He’s in surgery now.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, frustrated that it was starting to sound more like a coincidence than anything.

“Any chance he was also shot in the shoulder or chest?” I asked.

“Not that I heard, why?”

“Because someone left my apartment with three bullets that your sister put into them.”