I uncurl my fingers from around the grip of my Beretta, letting the weapon drop to the nasty floor. The thud seems to echo in the stifling space.
Bartholomew sucks in a breath. “My oh my. I had hoped, but I never believed you’d actually do it.”
I tune out his voice, focusing solely on my wife. Rage and regret battle within me as I take in my Little Iris, her frantic eyes, her tear-streaked face. She’s thrashing, still tied to her chair. Her head is whipping from side to side, and she’s trying to scream. What is she saying? I could have sworn I heard my name.
This girl… Her anguish is tearing at my heart. The heart that was a block of ice before I found her. But now, it’s the place where she will always remain. My sweet, sweet Iris. Always beautiful, even as she cries.
I’ve never been moved by anyone’s tears before. Never had anyone shed even a single one for me. No one had any cause to weep for me, and I have never given anyone a reason to do it. Men like me are not mourned. We don’t elicit tears, unless they spill because of fear. Yet, Iris is crying for me. And her tears cut me deeper than any blade ever could. I can’t take it.
In my peripheral vision, I see Barty raise his gun, aiming it at my chest. But I can’t look away from my wife. I want her to be my last sight on this earth. So I can keep it with me wherever I’m headed.
Time. I wish we had more time.
If I could go back a decade, I’d let the crazy bastard blow his brains out. Then, none of this would be happening. I wouldn’t be facing death knowing that old adage is true.No good deed goes unpunished.But then again, seeing my Little Iris cry, shedding her beautiful tears for me…maybe it was all worth it.
Or maybe I’m just as nuts as Barty.
Jesus fuck! I should have told her the truth. I should’ve admitted that I fell in love the instant she gave me that cookie. I should have—
BANG!
The gunshot explodes in the small room. Piercing pain rips through my right shoulder. I stumble. Go down on my knee. Lean forward.
My lungs are trying to expand to take a breath in, while my hand is busy staunching the surge of blood from a searing hole.
Muffled screams echo around me. And there are thumps, like the pounding of wood, making the floor shake beneath me.
Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Approaching me head-on.
The asshole is coming to gloat, not realizing his aim was shitty.
I keep myself bent, waiting for him to get closer.
Three steps away.
Two.
I grit my teeth, blocking out the pain as I apply more pressure to the wound.
“My dear, dear Adriano. You really should’ve—”
I launch forward. Grabbing his wrist, I wrap my uninjured arm around his throat and tackle him to the floor. Bartythrashes, gasping for breath as he tries to get free. But I keep him pinned to the ground.
My shoulder and arm are on fire, but it’s nothing compared to the rage burning in me. The crack of a bone breaking as I shatter his wrist while I wrestle the gun out of his hand is music to my ears.
“You should have aimed better, Bartholomew!” I bark into his face just as another gunshot slices between us.
Barty twitches under me. He takes a labored breath and meets my eyes. Then, the psycho grins.
“I did… And…I hit my mark. Just as I…planned,” he wheezes, lying in a rapidly spreading pool of blood beneath him.
I let go of his neck. “What?”
That absurd grin on his face pulls wider. “Low enough to avoid subclavian and axillary arteries. As well as the brachial plexus, to spare you the nerve damage. Still, it must hurt like a bitch. My apologies for that.”
“The fuck?” I grab his chin, twisting his face toward me. “You missed on purpose, you dumb shit?”
“Killing a man…I’ve been trying to save…would make my mission pointless, wouldn’t it?” He tries to chuckle, but it comes out hollow. “I hope you and…your Iris…have…a great life…together. But…try…not to be…such an ass…from now on.”
