Before passing over the threshold, Matteo stopped her, turning to stare at me.
I nodded once at him. He did the same. Then they were gone.
“How long was I out?” I could feel blood running down my neck from whatever Nemours had hit me with. He had come close to splitting my skull in two.
He didn’t want to kill me, only wound me. Killing me would have been too easy, not as painful as the alternative.
Killing the other half to my whole—the good side of me.
“Fifteen minutes,” came the reply from the floor. Mitch had sat up, his back against the wall, eyes still hazy. “I wasn’t finished with our conversation at the garage. I saw you get in your car and speed off. I followed. A car flew out of the driveway right as I was pulling in. It was damn near a head-on collision. I called Everett.”
“I came with the kids once I knew the house was safe. Mitch told me. I couldn’t keep them calm.” Everett sighed, his hand dripping blood. “They had to see for themselves that you were still alive. Mia, she thought—” He lifted his hands, then let them fall.
“Someone needs to tell me what’s going on,” the sheriff said, glancing at my head before standing behind a chair. “This instant.”
Before I could tell him not to sit, Silvio stepped forward. “There is a dead man in the garage,” he said in Italian. He waved a hand outside. “The French killed him.”
“Damn.” Everett shook his head. “Ronaldo?”
“Sì.” Silvio crossed himself, then looked at me. “I gave Ronaldo orders while he was in the car with your wife to stay with her, as soon as the call came through. He is one of my most trusted men, but perhaps I did not communicate the threat well enough. He left your wife alone to retrieve the cleats.” He stood taller, looking me in the eye. “In the confusion, Nemours must have made it to your house, was hiding inside, and it seems he hit Ronaldo right before he stepped outside. That was where we found him. Outside on the ground.”
I went to stand, to put his head through the wall, but couldn’t. Where the fuck was he when my wife needed him?
“Dimitri called,” he said, and I realized he had planned to go on. “That is where most of the guards went. To his home. We were told the threat was there. We spread out. Again, Ronaldo was to stay with your wife but did not. He did not make it out. Neither did Dimitri. He was close to dead when we arrived. He said a few words before we lost him.”
“Would someone fill me in, inEnglish.” The sheriff gave Silvio an impatient look.
Everett filled him in, hurriedly giving him all the details. The fire department had been called, and so had an ambulance. Sirens wailed, closing in from all different directions.
“Don’t get comfortable, Sheriff. Either take me to find my wife, or I drive as is.”
He paused mid-sit. “I have men on it. Going by the information Mitch Lewis gave me. It’s best if we—”
“He’s flying out of here.” I stood, ignoring the violent spin of the room. “With my wife.” I inhaled, almost tasting the coppery tang of blood in the back of my throat. “She’ll fight him unless he’s rendered her unconscious. A car going that fast, possibly swerving, that should grab a cop’s attention and is probably already on the radar. Either take me. Or I drive. I won’t repeat myself again.”
Ignoring the calls from behind me, I stumbled to the door like a drunk. By the time I made it to the car, the sheriff called me over to his cruiser.
“Get in,” he said, opening the door to the passenger side.
I said nothing as he began to drive, my head swimming in and out of reality. My eyes couldn’t seem to focus. A second later? Ten minutes? A call came through the radio, alerting the sheriff of an unknown car that had crashed in a heavily wooded area. A passing car had called it in.
“Bingo,” he said, going heavier on the pedal. “We’re close. Closer than any of my men.”
“You’re leading me, baby,” I said in Italian. “Stay with me.”
The sheriff glanced over at me; I could feel the weight of his stare on my face. I didn’t spare him a return look.
All my weapons were gone, the gun, the knife, and that was fine. I’d kill Nemours with my bare hands if he still lived—in time. If life was just and fair, though, the impact would’ve killed him instantly, sparing my wife. But life could be cruel with no rhyme or reason for it.
We were closer, but still the drive felt like we’d taken a flight to Italy. Nowhere to go, stuck in a damn box over endless miles of ocean. The sun had inched closer to the horizon, that still time of the day between day and night.
A fragile time. A switching of power.
She’d shine for me, and I’d come for her—in the darkness, her light attracted me.
The brake lights of the car, shining like blood, made me sit up taller. He had hit a tree—going how fast? The car was almost cut in half.
“Jesus,” the sheriff said, putting the cruiser in park. “Stay here!”
