Page 58 of Thorns of Blood

GIOVANNI

It’d been over a week since our wedding, and we’d fallen into a routine. I’d made an appointment for Lia to see Dr. Freud as soon as we arrive in Boston.

But until then, we had some sort of routine going.

We’d eat breakfast together, then spend half the day in the office where she’d handle her business with José via phone, while I handled mine. Her associate had been scouring the earth ever since I brought her on my boat, and when on the phone with Lia, he’d try tracking it. Luckily my privately invented software did an excellent job of making it impossible to pin her location.

We usually spent afternoons practicing her swimming. However, today it rained so I surprised her with an origami instruction book. There wasn’t anything Lia couldn’t do. Just as she excelled at swimming, she quickly picked up the paper-folding techniques. I, on the other hand, struggled, my hands too big and clumsy. I didn’t mind it though, because my wife would lean over and take my hand, demonstrating how to do it correctly.

I repeat: My wife touched me of her own free will.

It was fucking amazing, but judging by my brother’s frequent eyerolls, he wasn’t as impressed as I was.

It didn’t matter, because from now on, we’d practice origami every day. Rain or shine.

The trip back to Boston took even longer because there were several stops in regards to Tijuana Cartel business we had to make. In fact, we had yet to even hit the Florida coastline. There were certain shipments—namely weapons—in the Caribbean that I preferred to handle personally. And then there was the fact that I wanted to keep her on this yacht and away from everyone else for as long as I could.

I was on my way back to my office when I heard a sound come from Liana’s room. I paused, glancing at my watch. It was one in the morning, and Liana was asleep. Or she was when I last checked on her.

Assuming I’d imagined the sound, I resumed walking, the warm breeze sweeping through, but then a strangled cry came through, loud and clear, and I froze.

I stopped in front of the door and listened, reluctant to disturb her sleep. Just as I was about to move away from the door, convinced it was the wind howling, another cry sounded.

Another nightmare, I realized.

I’d seen Lia thrash occasionally, plagued by whatever haunted her dreams. The first time it happened, I’d stroked her blonde strands and it soothed her.

I wrapped a hand around the doorknob and softly pushed it open. I kept my footsteps light in the dark of the room, the moon basking the room in its glow.

As it creaked open, she let out another strangled cry, and I rushed to the bed. She lay tangled in the middle of the bed, thrashing, drenched in sweat. The blankets had been tossed aside, leaving her in nothing but the shorts and tank top she usually wore for comfort. Her face was twisted in agony, herbody rigid and curled in on itself, muscles taut and coiled as though bracing for a blow.

As quietly and gently as possible, I pressed my knee into the corner of the mattress and reached for her blonde strands.

“Shhh,” I cooed. “You’re safe.”

Her breaths were labored and her whimpers grew louder.

Carefully, I reached out and stroked my hand down her silky strands.

“Lia,” I whispered, trying to get her to wake her up without startling her. She thrashed against the mattress as she repeatedly mutteredno, her hair damp.

My hand traveled down her neck until I reached her shoulder and cupped her neck.

“Lia,” I repeated, this time a little louder. I hated the way her body trembled, the sheer terror etched on her face. “Wake up.”

She startled abruptly, letting out a loud gasp. Her eyes were unfocused, darting left and right. It was as if she didn’t even see me.

She froze for a heartbeat, and then came at me. Everything happened so fast. I was suddenly on my back and she was straddling me with a knife pressed against my neck. Where in the fuck did she get a Swiss knife?

“Lia,” I called out, keeping my voice soft. She dug it into my neck, and I could feel warm liquid trickle down my throat. “Lia,” I repeated. “Wake up, wildflower. It’s me.”

She went still, blinking furiously, and I watched the haze slowly lift until she recognized me.

Then a heart-wrenching sob tore from her throat.

LIANA

Panic choked me and I began to shake, seeing blood trickle down Giovanni’s throat.