Page 63

UNDER THE GUN

SANTINO

H is nerves were jumping. Antoinette hadn’t been in the house all that long, but each second that ticked away was a small eternity.

It didn’t help that the heat seemed to be peaking as the sun’s rays were absorbed by the roof of the car and the road beneath it, even on this tree-lined street.

He turned the AC on, closing his eyes for a moment to indulge in the coolness, then resumed his watch.

Someone knocked on the roof and he could have jumped out of his fucking skin.

It was Bobby, his face marred with deep concern.

“What are you doing out here, man?” Bobby asked, bending down to look at him after he rolled down the window.

“Why are you sitting in this car like this? It’s not even yours.

” While Santino stared at him, unable to think of a good reason for this fast enough, Bobby looked up at the house. “Is Zoe in there with Vanessa?”

“What?” Shocked a second time, Santino asked, “Why would Zoe be in there?”

“I drove past her truck on the way here. It’s parked around that corner.

” Bobby indicated the street to the right.

Santino craned his neck but couldn’t see the truck from where he sat, that rock in his stomach only growing bigger.

“Mom said she’s been gone for hours. I swear, if she’s in there fucking with Vanessa again… ”

“What are you doing here?” Santino asked, hoping to turn the attention off himself.

“Vanessa’s upset. I told her I’d come by. I’d better —” He stood up and his eyes widened. “What the fuck is that? What is that?” Then he took off, sprinting at top speed like a seasoned athlete.

“What? What’s what?” Santino looked back at the house and what he saw made his blood freeze, then erupt in a boil.

Thin tendrils of smoke were rolling up from under the roof of the first story toward the sky. And that sky, which had been white before with the heat, was now turning yellow as the smoke obscured the ball of the sun, turning it a strange light ash color.

Blue sun, yellow sky.

He’d turned away from it for a second, a second .

What had happened? Despite the sheer, wild panic that tried to seize him, Santino’s years in the department kicked in.

He jumped out of the car, quickly scanning the house he knew intimately.

The roof didn’t look compromised, but this house had been built at least thirty years ago with primarily wood construction and who knew how long it would stay sound.

Fire danced in the front windows to the right and the left.

Bobby was banging on the front door, but he howled in pain when he tried touching the doorknob and snatched his hand away.

“Call 911,” Santino shouted at him.

While Bobby pulled out his phone and called, his voice shaking, Santino popped open the trunk.

His pulse hammered in his throat as he pulled out what he’d told Dom never to touch, even though it was his car.

It was a replica of what Santino carried in his own, just so he’d never be without it, no matter what car he was in.

It wasn’t department issued. This one was a personal possession. He pulled out the axe and headed for the front door.

“You just carry that around?” Bobby asked over the growing noise of the fire inside the house.

“Don’t ask. We need to determine where they are. We’re looking for three, potentially, Vanessa, Zoe and Antoinette,” Santino said rapidly.

“On it. Wait, Antoinette?”

“Long story.”

Bobby went to the window on the left while Santino went to peer in the right. And what he saw through the smoke and the flames was Antoinette on the floor, not moving. Zoe, he couldn’t see at all.

But what he could see of Vanessa stopped his heart. A big man was crawling on top of her, holding something long and black in his hand.

Malone. That fucking bastard. Santino should have broken his neck the second they’d spotted him in Montreal when he had the chance.

It was his nightmares coming to ugly life. The safety glass he’d so carefully constructed around Vanessa had shattered. But there was no time for regrets, action.

“I see them in there, but I think the door’s on fire,” Bobby said, his voice as frantic as he looked. He cocked his elbow like he was about to put his fist through the window.

“Don’t break the windows,” Santino exclaimed. “It’ll just add oxygen to the fire.”

Same as if he busted down that door. The fire would eat the air greedily and grow into an even bigger, faster monster. Instead, he raced down the right side of the house along the gate.

No fire or smoke was coming from the eaves on this side.

He thanked any Heavenly entity listening that the side gate was unlocked, and so was the sliding door.

Bobby was right on his heels and yelled, “Zoe!” when they’d reached the living room.

She was on the floor, crawling weakly with one side of her face swollen and her eye shut.

Bobby picked Zoe up, coughing as the smoke enveloped him. It was difficult to see what else was happening as the flames swept through the room like a laughing beast, heading up the stairs and toward the back of the house to see what else it could consume.

Leaving the sliding door open had given it more of the oxygen it craved, and it grew hotter, screaming with delight at the chance to eat and eat.

But then there was Vanessa, raising her head at the sound of his voice. “Santino!” she called in a sob.

That man, animal, whatever he was, had his muscled arm around her neck in a choke hold, but his own hair was matted with what looked like blood. Dark hair, not red. Not Malone.

It didn’t matter who the fuck he was. Santino dragged him off Vanessa, pulling him up and over by the arm.

The stranger lay face up, coughing and heaving with smoke.

That’s when his eyes lowered to the axe Santino was carrying.

Suddenly, he kicked the back of Santino’s lower leg and swept him off his feet. The axe clattered to the floor.

The man threw himself on top of Santino this time, landing a punch with a heavy fist. Black stars shook and shimmered in front of his eyes. Another punch, another burst of pain and shooting stars. Santino punched back, knocking the other man off.

He tried clearing the blackness out of his head. Saw the guy was crawling away, back in Vanessa’s direction. But then he came back for Santino, holding a long black metal bar up over his head even though he was visibly trembling with exhaustion.

Before he could strike, Santino kicked. His heavily booted feet connected squarely with the man’s gut. The force of the kick sent him flying backward, and he slammed into the fiery door.

His shirt and hair caught fire. He screamed and danced a grotesque, whirling jig as he batted at the flames. Apparently, this asshole hadn’t been paying attention to the basic “stop, drop and roll” mantra Santino taught to kids.

Santino looked around, coughing in the smoke until he spotted his axe. The guy finally remembered the lesson, dropped to the floor, rolling and putting out the flames on the area rug. He was trying to crawl away.

Santino caught him as he tried to pass Antoinette, who was still out cold. Pulled the man’s arm and turned him over once again. He was coughing, moaning, reaching up with a blistering hand. Begging. For what, mercy?

Santino didn’t have any left. He’d used it all up. So he swung. And swung. And swung again until the man stopped moving.

All the fear, all the rage, everything tore loose from inside him. He gave it all to this person, this thing that dared to think it could come in here and hurt the only person who’d ever carried his heart. Who still carried it, whether she wanted it or not.

“Santi…”

The sound of Vanessa’s weakened voice brought back a reminder of the smoke that could still kill her from the inside out. It snapped him out of the red haze clouding his head. He threw the axe down next to the body as the flames fully engulfed the ceiling.

There wasn’t much time left. His lungs screamed at him. Every muscle and joint of his body aching from the battle. Still, he swung Vanessa up into his arms.

Antoinette? He hesitated for a moment, but he squeezed his eyes shut.

Made his split-second decision. Vanessa had to live.

If there was time… but there wasn’t. He looked at the girl who’d been his friend for so many years of his life.

He’d tried to save her once already. He’d paid the price for that, couldn’t pay it again.

He took his wife to safety. But before he hit the kitchen, a man appeared.

Tall, sharp-featured, dressed in an expensive suit.

Occhi azzurri e capelli biondi .

Santino didn’t need to ask. He knew who he was.

The golden-haired man’s blue eyes snapped to the dead man, the bloody axe. Finally, he raced to Antoinette’s side and scooped her up. He held her close and ran out, right before the living room ceiling collapsed and rained fire down on everything it touched.

The four of them got out of the kitchen into the fresh open air. The man and his prize disappeared into the ether.

Santino was on his way down the side path in time to meet the crew from the local company coming in. These were men he knew, despite working for a different crew in the city. He’d been to some of their houses for barbecues, had had a beer with them at their favorite local bar.

“There’s one more in the living room. He attacked my wife. He’s dead,” Santino said to their Captain Tanner when he rushed up.

“Died in the fire?” Captain Tanner asked. He was eyeing Santino’s clothes, taking in the blood spray on the bottom of his jeans and smeared on his dirtied shirt.

“He’s dead.” Santino chest heaved with Vanessa cradled against it. He knew it wasn’t an answer to the question, and he knew Tanner was smart enough to realize it.