Hewas dead. This couldn’t behim.
I was still shaking, the taste of blood,hisor Leo’s I didn’t know, sickening in my mouth. More blood trickled downhisface and stainedhisbeard.Helooked so…dead. This couldn’t behim.
“Don’t shoot. It’s Leo,” I sobbed.
“Hey, Dad,” Leo mumbled in pain.
Tino put his gun down and squatted next to Leo, applying pressure on his wound. “You motherfucker.” He glanced up at me, getting his phone out. “Are you hurt?”
I didn’t know. I wasn’t feeling anything, so I just shook my head.
Tino’s men streamed in and took Leo. Strong hands carried me up, cradled me gently. I stared into the dark blue eyes and held on to Tino like my life depended on it. “Heis dead.”
“Yes,” he said as he walked us out of the theatre.
That couldn’t behim. “Helooked nothing like I imagined.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s gone.”
“What if it’s nothim?”
He gave me one of his intense, piercing looks. “It ishim. You’re just in shock. Your mind is playing you like it always has when it comes tohim. You don’t want to believehewas finally gone. Butheis. Long gone.”
He was probably right, but my mind wouldn’t stop saying it. That couldn’t behim.
Chapter36
Tino
As we arrived at the mansion, Angel asked to see Leo. He was already with the doctors, trying hard to stabilize him.
“Why don’t you go take a bath and rest? I’ll let you know what the doctors say as soon as they finish,” I said.
Angel wouldn’t move, but Nicole held her arm gently and convinced her staying outside Leo’s door wouldn’t help. As Angel dragged her feet away, Nicole glanced at me, mouthing her thanks.
I nodded, and as soon as they disappeared upstairs, I sank in the chair outside the room Leo was in, my face in my hands, going through what happened, trying to figure out when and why it’d gone wrong.
Why was that fucker Andretti taking her outside instead of backstage as we agreed?
How did Leo find out the right place and time of the trap? I didn’t tell him anything.
Why did Andretti shoot Leo? To be exact, why would Leo let Andretti shoot him? I taught my son how to shoot, how to easily incapacitate a captor. They were face to face, their heights the same, and Angel was short in comparison. Leo had a clear shot of Andretti.
“Brutto. Stronzo.”
If he hadn’t been shot already, I’d have done it myself. In the dick. I’d fuck my only chance to have grandchildren without an ounce of care. I didn’t want them if he thought he was gonna make them with my Angel. I’d have more children with her, and they’d have my grandchildren, not that punk.
Could I really blame him, though? For loving her? For doing what he’d done?
I growled at the ceiling. “Like father like son.”
Michele came to tell me about Andretti. He’d taken care of the body and the police, and the fucker’s apartment—it wasn’t really his, but I’d chosen one close to hers and made it look like it was Marciano’s—was all set with the evidence Angel needed to believe.
The doubt in her eyes would be long gone when she saw for herself the details of the monster tale she’d been living in her whole life etched over every corner of that place.
The only one standing between me and her now was Leo. After the little game he played, it’d be a lot harder to get him out of the way than I thought.
Hours later, the doctors assured me they got out the bullet and stopped the hemorrhage. No vital organs were affected—of course.
