Not when Finch was still in danger.
I wrenched my body up, got back onto my feet, and stumbled back toward the townhouse, back toward the inferno. I caught sight of two more paramilitary assholes running out the front door, covering their mouths with their arms, too busy choking to worry about checking the street. I pulled all my focus together, held my breath, and shot them dead with my last two bullets.
And then my heart lifted as I heard familiar voices behind me—Carlucci, Vitali, their arms holding me up.
“Boss, you alright?”
“Leave me,” I croaked out. “Finch. GetFinch.” I shoved them away, pointing to the townhouse, and thanked all the saints that they jumped right away to follow orders; they’d always been good men, reliable…
The world was wheeling around me as I kept stumbling back toward the townhouse, watching Vitali and Carlucci fight their way into the flames. I fell forward to my knees, tilted to the side, and rolled onto my back, staring up not at the night sky, but into a red and orange glow.
Finch.
Someone leaned over me, shaking me, and I grabbed their wrist, held up my gun to their head automatically, though I was out of bullets. I struggled to open my eyes but I was glad when I did.
“Nick.”
“Help’s coming,” he said grimly.
But I didn’t care what happened to me. There was only one person I cared about right then. “Finch,” I said, trying to sit up. “Finch.”
“I’ll get him,” Nick promised. “You just make sure you stay alive for him.”
I wanted to. Oh, God, did I want to. Ihadto, I reminded myself. I had to stay alive for Finch.
He’d be so mad if I…
Chapter Ten
FINCH
“…so it was Nick Fontana who pulled me out of the house before it burned up completely,” I wind up to Frank.
“First useful thing that fuck’s done,” Frank grunts. “Georgie shoulda killed him months ago for going behind his back with that rat-faced lawyer.”
I ignore that, although I wonder how he knows about it. I can’t imagine Luca would have said anything, wanting to keep Frank well out of Morelli business. We’re in the hospital café and Frank is eating a salad and cheese sandwich because it was the only thing left available in self-serve. He said it still tasted better than plane food. It’s the middle of the night and the café is quiet, only a few other miserable people sitting around staring into their coffees and not drinking them.
I know how they feel.
Aidan is staying with Luca while I fill Frank in on all the details that were making him shouty in the ward, and poor old Carlucci is sitting a few tables away from Frank and me, pretending not to listen in.
“I got in the ambulance with Luca,” I continue, “and that’s when he told me—” I break off to clear my throat and give the sudden urge to cry enough time to die down.
I could hardly hear Luca even before we were bundled into the ambulance, and then they put an oxygen mask over his face. He’d pushed it off weakly, and as one paramedic checked the IV, the other kept trying to put the mask back on, until I begged, “Please, he’s trying to say something.” I had to lean in so close my ear was against his lips, and his voice was harsh but faint.
Love you, baby bird.
I had to hold back my sob, because he was still trying to speak, and still so faint. He only had strength for one more word.
Nick.
I sat up a little, looked him in the face, and he blinked at me, tried to take my hand—no, not take my hand, but to show me something on his. I saw his meaning, and when I drew the heavy Morelli ring off his finger, those clouded blue eyes closed in relief.
“You want me to give this to Nick,” I said, to show him I understood.
He gave one shallow nod and allowed the paramedic to jam the oxygen mask back on his face. His hand went limp in mine and the medics pushed me away. I watched them battle to keep my husband alive as I sat there, and I felt another presence leaning in. Someone—something—interested in the fight. Trying to get a better view.
Clutching the Morelli ring in my hand, Luca’s blood making the metal slippery, I began to bargain with Death.
