“Oh please,Barbie. You really think you’ve got the guts to shoot me? I did my homework on you. You’re practically a nun, sweetheart. Save us both the time and put the damn gun down.”
“You think you know me?” I ask.
“Sweetheart, I’ve dealt with dozens of little whores like you. You’re just a pampered brat. All you’ve ever done is snap your fingers and get your way.”
“If you shoot him, you won’t leave here alive.”
“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do? Shoot me?”
Before I can answer, she pulls the trigger.
Everything happens in a flash.
Instinctively, I shoot back.
The bullet hits her in the arm.
Almost simultaneously, she doubles over, clutching her right thigh, but not before swinging the gun toward me.
I fire again. This time, the shot hits her abdomen—and I see the blood spreading across her shirt.
“You shot me!” she cries, stunned.
My heart races as I see Amos stumble near the door with a loud thud.
“Yes. And I’ll do it again if I have to. Maybe I am all those things you said, but you have no idea how far I’d go to protect him.”
“I’m gonna kill you,” she snarls, trying to steady her hand, but I can see her strength fading.
She looks down at her bleeding stomach, then back at me.
She seems to want to say something—then all the color drains from her face and I know the nightmare is over when her body finally collapses.
Amos is bleeding, but he’s on his feet, and with effort, he comes to me.
And I know, without a doubt, that he will always come for me, no matter what.
“Lilly, my love . . .”
“It’s over. She’ll never hurt you again,” I whisper, and finally, I allow myself to give in to sleep.
The monster is gone.
Amos is safe. And that’s all that matters.
Chapter 68
Three Months Later
“I won! I’m the champion!”
I shake my head, smiling as I watch his happiness.
You don’t need to be a child specialist to see how much these weekends with us are helping our boy.
I watch Lilly dancing around Bruno, teaching him how to clap his hands with hers in celebration. Then they do their little “victory dance,” as she calls it.
Seeing the joy my woman brings him only makes me love her more—if that’s even possible.
