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I don’t want to leave him.

It feels like I’m ripping my own heart out to run behind the safety of his truck and cower as he faces down against Luca but I do it, gasping for air and battling back tears as more shots pierce the air, turning a quiet, perfect night into a battlefield. Tires screech and red and blue lights bounce off of everything around me but my panic doesn’t ease. A thud reaches my ears, louder than anything else and I can’t stop myself from peeking around the edge of the truck as my body threatens to empty the contents of my stomach.

Diego is lying on the concrete next to his truck, his eyes closed, and I scream as I rush out from my hiding spot and kneel next to him.

Oh, God.

Is he shot?

Please tell me it hit the vest.

Frantically, I drag my hands over his body, searching for a wound and when I don’t find one or any blood, I lift his shirt. There, in the center of the vest are two bullets and I can’t stop the sob that tears itself from my throat.

“Diego?” I rasp, running my fingers over the stubble on his cheek as my other hand presses against his chest, reassured by the steady thumping of his heart. With a grunt of pain, he lays his hand on mine and opens his eyes, meeting mine as my heart cracks wide open.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Mama,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and weak, but relief rushes through me as I laugh.

“Thank God.”

Right now, I don’t even care if my walls are down or I’m in danger of letting Diego in even more than I already have because he’s okay and nothing else seems to matter in light of that.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Diego

I am a goddamn mess.

Between what happened at the radio station last night and the disaster of a date the night before that, I feel like I’ve been dragged through the wringer and thoroughly beaten with a broom handle. You know, one of those old wooden ones they used to smack rugs to get the dust out? That’s what I feel like. But glancing down, I can’t help but smile. Izzy is sleeping in my arms, curled tightly against my body like she has been for the last three hours so it doesn’t matter that I haven’t been able to sleep, tortured by thoughts of what could have happened if Luca had gotten to her. Turning my head, I press my lips to her forehead and close my eyes, breathing her in, before turning away and scrubbing a hand down my face.

Fuck.

I’m exhausted.

Just before the cops came rushing on the scene, Luca managed to fire off two more shots before he fled the scene with three cruisers right on his tail. Those were the two bullets that lodged themselves into my vest and I would be impressed by his aim in the chaos if I wasn’t so goddamn pissed about it. It’s also infuriating that despite the fact that he’s a fucking idiot, he still seems to evade us and any law enforcement that gives a shit about going after him every single time. I’m starting to wonder if the piece of trash has a rabbit’s foot shoved up his ass. His time has to run out sometime though, and I swear if I ever get my hands on him, he will suffer ten times anything he’s put Izzy through.

Looking down at my girl, I pull her closer, needing her attached to me to chase the demons of the past twenty-four hours away. She hooks her leg over mine, sighing as she settles against me. The fear on her face throughout the whole ordeal is going to haunt me for the rest of my life but the relief I saw shining in her eyes when I opened my eyes after taking two in the vest is a balm, soothing the anger inside me. And I can’t help but think that she feels more for me than she’s letting on. It’s not exactly progress, I guess, but it’s something and I’m clinging to that little piece of hope like it’s a fucking life raft. She shifts and nudges one of the bruises left behind from the bullets and I wince, hissing through my teeth.

Jesus.

That shit hurts like a bitch.

When she settles again, I press one last kiss to her head before carefully extracting myself from the bed. She reaches for me but doesn’t wake up and I pull the covers over her body before pulling on a pair of sweatpants and slipping out of the room. The vest I was wearing at the radio station is sitting on the back of the couch catches my attention and I clench my fists at the sight of the bullets embedded in the Kevlar. I don’t care about me – I’ve been shot at before and this probably won’t be the last time but thinking about those bullets or any of the others he fired at us last night finding their way to Izzy makes me want to rip this place apart. If I get my hands on that little son of a bitch…

Sucking in a breath, I drag a shaking hand through my hair before turning toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee as I struggle to rein in my anger. As it brews, I turn toward the front windows and watch the first light streak across the sky. Glancing over at the oven clock, I shake my head. It’s four in the morning but after lying in bed for three hours, unable to sleep and thinking about all the ways I want to make Luca pay for the shit he’s done, it feels like it should be so much later already. Not that I’m well rested enough to start my damn day but it seems I don’t have much of a choice.

Once the coffee is ready, I fill up a mug and set it back on the coffee maker to keep it warm before I step out onto the deck. As I settle into one of the chairs, I pull my phone out of the pocket of my sweats. After Luca sped off, the cops that remained on the scene turned to us and all of the sudden, we were the criminals. It took hours for them to take each one of our statements since they would come back to someone they’d already interviewed and ask them more questions, trying to trip them up. Finally, four hours later, they let us go and said they’d be in touch. Whatever though. I know how to handle them and right now, I’m much more concerned about the license plate we were able to get over to Streak and finding out just who the hell Luca is. For the first time, it feels like we have a real lead and I can’t wait to get answers.

Glancing at the time again, I wince. Streak is a fucking asshole when you wake him up but there is a good chance he’s been burning the midnight oil, working on this since we sent it over to him and I decide to take the risk as I video call him. He accepts the call almost immediately and his face appears on the screen.

“Yo,” he answers. His hair looks like it’s been yanked in every direction and he has dark circles under his eyes. It’s not that I want to see my brother looking like hell but there is a comfort in knowing that he takes this as seriously as I do, that he’s spent all night finding me whatever information he could.

“Hey,” I answer, taking a sip of my coffee. “How’s the search going?”

He scoffs, gesturing to his face. “Very well, obviously. You look like hell though.”

“Fucking smartass. I couldn’t sleep.” That’s the simplest answer I can give him without going into gory details about the torture fantasies I’ve fostered in the last few hours. He nods as he leans back in his chair.

“I hear ya. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to crash after y’all sent me that plate number.”