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Page 31 of Hostile Cravings (Wicked Cravings #3)

Chapter Sixteen

ANGIE

T yson was there telling me he loved me, and my heart could barely contain the joy that burst through it, but then that joy turned to agony.

I laid on his chest, the blood soaking through my white dress.

It wouldn’t stop, just as my tears wouldn’t.

The church was a cacophony of gunshots and yelling and I covered my ears, Tyson’s blood coating my hair with the move.

He wasn’t responding, he wasn’t moving, and I felt like that bullet had torn through me.

It hurt too much to think he might not live.

So I laid there with him, my body over his as if I could protect him.

Silence filled the air then the sound of feet running toward me.

I braced myself for Joey’s hands to rip me from Tyson’s body, for the sight of my father and Tony dead.

Braced myself for a life of pain, knowing that I had caused this, that if I’d stayed with Tyson, that if I hadn’t been so quick to assume, I’d be safe in his arms on the island.

Hands grasped my arms, and I fought, screaming and clawing to stay with him because I couldn’t leave him.

“Angie, stop,” Tony’s voice cut through my desperation, and I stopped struggling and let him pull me to him. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking me over. He had blood dripping from his arm and his ear where a bullet had nicked it, but otherwise, he looked whole and intact.

I shook my head, unable to form the words.

“Fuck, Ty,” I heard Mason say. “Grab him. He’s hurt bad.” I turned my head to see him and his men picking Tyson up. I hadn’t realized he was there, that any of them were there.

“Get him in the car. I’ll handle this mess.” My father’s voice was firm and assured, not the weak man he’d been when he’d walked me into the church. I gripped Tony’s shirt, relief filling me that they were both alive.

Mason’s men had Tyson, and they were rushing him out. I tried moving to follow, but Tony kept me close.

“Let me go. I need to be with him. Please, Tony.”

“No, Angie. Let them take him. Mason’s got him, and he won’t let anything happen to him.”

I turned into his chest. The tears I’d been swallowing back since the moment I’d walked out on Tyson broke free. My body shook with the power of them as Tony held me close in his protective embrace.

“He’ll be okay, Anj. Dad’s calling the hospital now to make sure he gets the best care. We need to leave before the police get here.”

I nodded, but I still couldn’t move. Tony scooped me into his arms. He held me the entire trip home, just as he had when we were children, and I would crawl into his bed after our mother died. He would hold me, letting me shed the tears that I hid from others.

When the car pulled up to the house, he helped me out, wiping my tears away and kissing my head.

“I wasn’t about to let that slimebag touch you, Anj. Neither was Dad.”

I searched his eyes. “But that’s what you were doing,” I said, trying to understand .

“That’s what we wanted Joey to think, for Tirenti to think.”

My mouth fell as understanding came to me. “You tricked them? Wait, you used me to trick them?” I punched his arm.

“It was necessary. I didn’t know Tyson would come, but I knew Mason would.

He and Dad talked before you came home and then again last night.

They suspected this was a trap, that Tirenti would turn on us.

And he was right. There were Bad Omen outside and hidden inside the church, waiting for Tirenti’s signal. ”

My breath stuck in my throat. Bad Omen again. The last time they’d struck, I’d almost lost Tony. And now, I might lose Tyson.

“Take me to the hospital,” I said. “I don’t care about all this nonsense, just take me there. I want to see him.”

Tony’s expression softened. “Anj, he might not make it.”

My cry was a heartbroken one that scraped its way through my soul before escaping. I shook my head. “You said he’d make it.”

“That gunshot hit him right in the chest.”

“You survived.”

“I know, but none of the bullets hit anything critical.”

And this one had hit Tyson in the chest, close to his heart. I wobbled and Tony caught me.

“Take me to the hospital,” I said.

He searched my eyes, looking for some chance that I wasn’t serious, but I crossed my arms and stared him down.

“Okay, but wash the blood off you and change. That dress needs to be burned. I’m not taking you anywhere in that thing. Then I’ll take you.”

My normal smart assed retorts were out of reach so I pulled his head down and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

The trip to my room seemed endless, the pain in my ankle a minor irritation from what sat in my chest. So much had transpired over the past few days.

My life had changed. I had changed. Tyson was the reason and now I stood to lose him.

I pushed the thought aside, knowing it would leave me frozen if I let it linger.

When I reached my bathroom, I washed the blood from my face and body, hating how much layered my skin and that I was washing what could be the last touch of Tyson from me.

I threw the dress in the trash, never wanting to see it again.

My hands were shaking as I dug through my closet for something to wear, thinking of Tyson’s comment to me before my life had fallen apart.

That I needed to change my revealing outfit.

I’d always worn revealing clothes, flaunting my body to gain the attention of men.

Leaving nothing to the imagination. But that didn’t seem right now.

Tyson loved me. The words had burned through me, carving their place in my heart and my soul.

I was his, and I didn’t need other men to look at me, to touch me. Because I had his touch.

My knees buckled, and I caught myself, reality hitting me that he was dying and might not make it to touch me again.

That the last touch of his hands on my arms as he told me he loved me might have been the last. I choked back the sob that was dragging its way through my body.

Digging in the back of my closet, an urgency pounding through me, I grabbed a T-shirt and shorts, something I never would have worn and wasn’t even sure how they were in my closet.

I slipped on a pair of sandals and, knowing the hospital would be cold, snagged a sweater I’d kept that had been my mother’s.

It was a soft pink cardigan that hung loose on me, just as it had on her.

I could almost smell her perfume on it and the thought comforted me.

With a deep breath, I tore through the house, finding Tony waiting for me in the foyer. He wore a fresh shirt, and had a bandage on his ear.

“Ready?” he asked, eyeing my outfit.

“No,” I answered honestly.

“He’s in surgery. I just got off the phone with Mason.”

That sob pushed to free itself again, but I shoved it away. I had to be strong because Tyson couldn’t be, and my strength couldn’t waiver or I might lose him. And that would leave me too broken to ever return.

Rain pounded on the window, the storm beyond raging like my emotions had raged for days.

Tyson had made it through surgery, but he’d been unconscious for days.

The bullet had just missed his heart and the thought that mere centimeters had meant the difference between life and death still caused tears to surface.

Casey and Mason kept watch with me, taking shifts, but I hadn’t left the room, afraid he’d wake or worse while I was away.

Tony sat with me sometimes, bringing me food and clean clothes.

Every day that passed was another where I replayed the events over and over in my mind, a constant punishment for having made the decisions that had led us to this point.

I looked out at the rain, pressing my face to the cool window and twisting the rings Tyson had given me around my finger.

Pulling the cardigan closer to me, the silk of the scarf I’d snuggled with the night I’d stayed in his bed caressed my cheek.

Casey had found it when she cleaned out the bag with his clothes.

He’d had it in his pocket along with the rings and I hadn’t been able to give either of them up, both reminding me of what we’d had, what I’d almost lost, what I still could lose.

“You know, little viper, when you said you wanted to kill me all those times, I didn’t think you really meant it.” My heart leaped, and I turned to find Tyson’s weary eyes watching me.

I couldn’t contain my smile, especially when he gave me that sexy smirk that made my insides weak.

“Well, if I’d known you’d be such an easy target, I would have attempted it years ago,” I replied, hesitant to go to him, afraid that what had happened between us would erase the words he’d confessed at the church.

The pain of him throwing me aside and taking the bullet for me was still present.

The guilt that it should have been me, that I’d caused all of this, that he wouldn’t have been hurt if I’d just stayed with him, if I wasn’t so stubborn.

I fidgeted with the rings. His eyes dropped to them, his expression falling. He looked so pale, the powerful man I loved weak because of me.

“You went through with it?” His voice held a sadness that seemed juxtaposed with the man I knew.

I glanced down at the rings, understanding dawning on me. Rising, I moved closer, still fearful of getting too close, of believing he still loved me, of believing he could forgive me for leaving him and getting him shot.

“No, Joey’s dead. Tony took him down when he shot you.”

“Is that what hurts so bad?”

I nodded, swallowing. “I’m sorry, Tyson.” My voice was so low it was barely a murmur. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I caused this, that you got hurt because of me.”

He reached out and grabbed my hand, his fingers sliding over the rings. “Are these mine?”

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