I’ve searched everywhere. Now I’m back at the side door in the stone wall that Gina had the key for so she could come and meet me the next time. My headlights illuminate the wall and side door, and I get out of my car and confirm what I suspected.
Gina wasn’t one of the bodies carried out; there are small bloody fingerprints on both the metal and the stone. She came out this way.
Coming to find me?
I spin around, trying to think of where she’d go and where I haven’t looked. She didn’t go to see Bernard and Bianca or…
“Fuck,” I curse, remembering where else I had taken her. But I hadn’t even considered it because it’s too far to travel on foot or by bus, and I don’t know if cabs go out there. “Fuck!” I shout, then jump back into my car and race to the ruins of the Sutro Baths.
I drive like a madman. Ever since I found out she was missing and there was blood in her bathroom, I’ve fluctuated between thinking she was hurt and needed medical attention, that she was hiding from her father, and that she was running from me, hating me because she saw the article and photo before Marco could have them pulled.
But is it possible she was runningtome?
She has no idea where I live or even where my office is, but if she’s hurt and disoriented, she may have tried to go where I had taken her. To where our souls had completely knitted together. I know she felt it happen that night, too.
Gravel spits and flies as I yank the wheel and turn into the parking lot. It’s empty; no sign of anyone. I jump out of my vehicle, not bothering to lock it, and race down the path to where the ruins are.
Sweat coats my skin and my breathing is erratic. I want roar in frustration when I arrive because she’s. Not. Here.
Gripping my hair, I spin in a circle, frantically searching for her one more time. Then I stop, staring with my heart in my throat.
In the dawn’s light, I see a figure up on the cliff. Way too close to the edge.
I sprint as fast as fucking possible, pumping my arms and legs to ascend the rocky incline to get up to her. I don’t know if I should shout at her. What if I startle her and she trips and tumbles? What if, for some reason I can’t fathom, shewantsto jump?
Terror freezes my throat and fuels my body. She hasn’t moved from the spot when I reach the top. Her profile is to me, and she doesn’t turn toward me. She just stares out at the ocean, swaying with a jacket with some blood lying at her feet.
“Gina,” I say softly, but she doesn’t respond. I take a step toward her, now within arm’s reach if she falls. “Gina.”
She blinks slowly, then even more slowly, she turns her head to look at me. Everything inside me turns to ice as I fully see her face. The left side is bruised and swollen.
“Tommaso,” she whispers and blinks again, turning her body toward me.
Now that I see her fully, I can see the blood all over her dress. Her shoes are gone, and her feet are dirty and bleeding. Her hands are covered in blood. But it’s not dried blood; it’s wet…fresh.
Terror settles deep within me, but I force myself to have calm and controlled movements. She’s still too close to the edge of the cliff. I take her hands, gently pulling her toward me and walking us away from the edge.
Her eyes are half-lidded, and she sways. “My head…hurts… Don’t feel…good.”
“I’m going to get you to the hospital.” I gently cup one hand behind her head and feel the gaping gash, and my hand comes away bloody. “I’ll take care of you,” I force out.
She jerks back like I’ve struck her, then cries out in pain. But when I try to scoop her into my arms, she slaps me. Shock fills me, but I stay calm, knowing this is likely her head wound.
But then she hisses, and her eyes are open and clear, fully lucid, where she had been almost unconscious moments before. “Don’t touch me.”
“Gina.”
“No!” she screams, then holds her head, looking like she’s in agony. “No.” She looks at me again. “I know what you’ve done.”
My heart cleaves in my chest. She’s seen the picture. “I’ll explain everything once I get you to the hospital.”
“Fuck you.” Her movements are jerky as she tries to walk away, to get away from me. “I’ll never be your whore, Tommaso.”
I catch her as she collapses. She was just lucid, but she’s now suddenly unconscious. I know that her head wound is serious, possibly fatal.
I scoop her into my arms, racing back to my car to save the woman I can’t live without, even if she hates me.
There’s a flurry of activity as I race into the UCSF Medical Center. It’s the top hospital in the city, plus it’s the one with the best neurosurgery team if that’s what Gina needs.
