Page 65 of All Mine (The All Mine #1)
Isabella
The noise of the gun reverberated in Isabella’s head and echoed around the decimated room. The smell of gunfire mingled with petrol and rum where the bottle lay spilled and dripping amongst the debris.
Isabella wasn’t hurt, but someone was moaning. She ran to Nonna, who was crouching on the floor, hands over her head. Gabi was standing over her like a lioness. They were both unscathed.
God, no, not Etienne. Her heart thumped. Was it Etienne? He lay flat out on top of Toothpick, and one them was bleeding. Blood bloomed across the floorboards from beneath them.
‘Etienne,’ she gasped and threw herself onto the floor beside him.
Etienne lifted his head, bleeding from something he’d hit on the floor.
He crawled backwards off the man’s body and pushed himself to his feet.
Isabella ran her hands over his chest, looking for blood but there was nothing.
He wasn’t shot. He dragged her to him, away from the man writhing in agony on the floor, and she felt his arm around her like a life raft.
Toothpick moaned again, clutching his leg where blood was pumping through his jeans. He spotted the gun, forgotten on the floor, and made a last-ditch grab at it, but Isabella beat him to it by kicking it towards the corner. It skimmed away across the floor.
‘Do it now,’ hissed Toothpick at Barrel, ‘and then get me out of here.’ Barrel struck a match, and it hissed into life. He held it momentarily in the air to let it take hold. The flame spluttered into life.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The horror of it playing out around her like a film.
Isabella heard her own shout and saw Etienne already diving for the fire extinguisher.
The flame flickered taller, and Barrel tossed the match casually towards the petrol.
It arced through the air, and Isabella’s shout rose to a scream of pure anger.
This couldn’t be the way her dream ended.
Gabi took her moment. Crouching low before leaping upwards to grasp hold of one of the exposed timber beams across the restaurant ceiling, she used all her acrobatic training and strength to swing her legs backwards before flinging herself forwards, kicking the match perfectly with her pointed toe before it hit the ground.
The impact of her foot kicked the flame clean out.
Nonna flew in behind her and tipped the coffee pot on the dead match, just to be sure.
Etienne put the icing on the cake by letting the fire extinguisher rip at the same spot.
Barrel had heaved Toothpick to his feet and they were lurching together to leave, leaving a trail of blood as they went.
Sirens wailed as the emergency services closed in on the restaurant and by the time the two men had opened the door, the entire square was lit by the swirl of blue lights.
Isabella saw the police outside rushing in to apprehend them.
Walker was there too with his crew, parked in the middle of the square and aiming the fire hose at the restaurant frontage.
How they all knew to be there, she couldn’t even guess.
Etienne went out to talk to them, leaving her standing alone for a second before Nonna and Gabi rushed to envelop her in family arms.
They watched, still holding each other as Walker stood his team down. It took two policemen to handcuff Barrel and fit him into a police car, and Toothpick was handcuffed too before being loaded onto a stretcher and wheeled into a waiting ambulance.
They saw Etienne pause in the centre of the square, alone.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it to his ear, looking upwards, jaw taut.
Then, whatever he heard on the other end made him squeeze his eyes tight shut, his head sagging backwards on his shoulders in relief.
Blood ran through his hairline and dripped down his forehead, but he seemed not to notice it as he pocketed his phone again, then walked decisively towards Tutto Mio.
A single firework shot into the sky behind him, exploding into a million white stars.
The other women drifted away from her as Etienne stepped in the doorway. But she didn’t notice. She only registered the noise of his feet as he crunched through glass towards her.
He stopped before her, within touching distance.
His eyes were searching her face and they looked hopeful, apologetic, fierce, terrified.
She could feel the tears trembling on her own lashes.
Neither of them spoke, but when he put his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, she weaved her arms about his neck, holding on.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, pulling her tightly so that she fit against every part of him. ‘I’m so sorry, Bella.’