Killing Me Softly: A Romantic Suspense Anthology, page 195
The picture of him leaning against that cabin with his blue shirt on, his hands in his pockets, a tentative expression on his handsome face as if I would have moved on already is still painted on my mind. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. So raw.
I hear more gunshots up the tunnel. He pulls away from me. “We need to go.”
I nod. He’s right. Our friends can walk out of here. I hope and pray they aren’t hurt.
35
Emilio
Present Day
* * *
Gunshots continue whipping past us, and two of my men get hit. Holes are in the paintings, smoke still lingers in the air, and stone and broken furniture surround us. Holding my side, I limp into the room, looking around, trying to find the door to the damn tunnel. I’m soaked to the bone and bleeding out much worse than I’d like to.
“Hurry,” I say to Domenico and Victor.
“Freeze!”
I stop, turning my head. I look to Domenico, nodding slightly. He fires his gun; Enrique’s man jumps behind what’s left of the hall wall. I look at my hand covered in blood from the glass cut and the hole in my arm.
“Surrender now, Emilio, and this will go down a lot smoother. You’ve already lost two men.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got two here ready to shoot if you come any closer.”
“There’s no way you’re leaving this estate,” he yells from behind the stone. “SWAT team has you surrounded.”
SWAT team?
I look over at Domenico and Victor who both have their brows narrowed.
“SWAT?” I say to them.
I’ve had this all wrong. It’s the police.
How? How did they find out about this place? It’s secret. Only the invited know about it, and the invited don’t run in the same circles as the cops. Someone snitched.
“We gotta get out of here.”
My men nod, and while the cop isn’t looking, I step forward and open the painting. My eye catches something silver and I bend down to pick it up before hobbling inside. I look back at my men and they hurry behind me as the painting closes.
I smirk as we hurry through. It’s dark here, but I know a little farther in there are lights hung up on the sides. Considering we’re not far from the city line, we’ll be out of here quickly. The cops may know about the party, but they won’t know about this tunnel.
I hope the car and plane are still waiting. It’s well past the time we were supposed to be there. I see a crack of light coming from a second secret door. I stop and push it open, looking in. Guns line the walls and the table’s filled with drugs. “Grab some of the drugs. Get some guns, too,” I tell them. I go to rub my chin, remembering the silver I picked up.
I open my palm, and my eyes widen. A dainty bracelet with a boat and some other charms.
I smile. There you are, my Gabriella.
36
Foster
Present Day
* * *
Before we take off into the tunnel, I snatch up a gun and check to see if it’s loaded. I grab Caramela’s hand, and we run behind whoever the hell the woman is we’re following.
We must get clear of this damn house and Emilio. I’m worried to say, but we may have to skip town. There’s no way the man is going to stop chasing her. And I’ll put a bullet in his skull before I let him take her from me again. I hold her hand tightly, my head throbbing from the blow it took, but I believe the bleeding has subsided, thanks to Caramela.
We catch up to the blonde, and I notice lights in front of her illuminating the tunnel ahead. She doesn’t look back, but keeps going straight, winding with the tunnel. I hold Caramela’s hand tight, and then I hear voices behind us after we turn a corner.
“It’s Emilio,” Caramela says.
“I know.”
“Iliana, we need to run,” she says. Iliana turns to look at us, noticing the gun in my hand. “You shoot that bastard if he gets too close.”
I nod.
37
Matías
Present Day
* * *
I jump over the broken stone, blinking away the water raining down from the ceiling. The fire alarm is still ringing throughout the house. SWAT comes through the front doors, pointing their guns and arresting those we know are higher-ups in the organized crime world. Christian Arnoult being one of them.
I shrug off the blazer and pull at the white button-up shirt before tossing them both over a side turned chair, revealing my bulletproof vest fitted over the green t-shirt I have on.
“Where’s my wife?” he says with his hands cuffed behind his back.
“Ah, Christian Arnoult.” I cross my arms over the chest of my bulletproof vest, lifting my chin.
He spits near my feet. “You’ll all go down for this,” he seethes. “You fools don’t think I have the cops in my pocket? You fools don’t think everyone here has you pigs on a leash?” He laughs, and I shake my head at him.
“You keep talking. It’ll only help us.”
Blood rivers down the side of his head. “I want my lawyer,” he says as the officer reads him his rights. I look around the room, trying to figure out where Emilio disappeared. I know there’s a tunnel in this home. We’ve been watching the area for weeks now.
Once Enrique informed us of the party that takes place here every year, we got to work on bugging the home. We used mail carriers and decorators and even some of the band members. They placed cameras throughout the estate and mics under tables and in flower vases. We’ve heard everything.
No longer will a lavish party occur for the devils of the crime world, for they will all be rotting in prison.
“Wait,” I say.
Officer Mike stops, holding onto Christian’s hands.
I scan around the room once more. “Where is it?”
“Where is what?” Christian says.
“The entrance to the tunnel.”
“A tunnel?” Christian says on a laugh. “What do you think this is, Officer? Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?” His bulky belly shakes with his chuckle, and I look to the photo on the floor of his family. His kids.
I narrow my eyes. “No sense in playing dumb. We know there’s a tunnel. We know you’re working with the cartel.” I turn to him. “We know everything. If you cooperate, maybe you’ll get to see your kids graduate high school.” I shrug.
He blanches, as the realization of his situation sinks in. He looks to the photo on the floor, half charred, smeared with ash and soaked with water.
His eyes go back to me. “How much time are we talking?”
I incline my head. “A few off the back end. We have video and voice footage of your dealings with the cartel along with other information. We could lose some of it.” I slide a hand into my pocket. “You just tell us where the entrance is. Tell us what you know about Emilio, and we’ll work something out.”
“Let’s work it out now. I don’t want it known about my dealings with the cartel.”
I look to Mike.
He lifts his brow. It’s my choice here. I’m the head of this operation. I couldn’t hear anything going on in the great hall because of the music, so I have no idea where Emilio plans to go, but maybe this dirty bastard does.
“Fine. No cartel.”
“I have your word?”
“You have my word. It’s not you we want here.”
He nods, pauses for a moment, and then says, “The tunnel is through the painting. Emilio said something about a car at the end of it. I heard him telling his men he’ll have a plane waiting for him as well.”
I nod. Mike moves Christian down the hall.
“Wait?” he says. “Where is my wife?”
“One of my men said they saw her heading downstairs.”
He frowns, his eyes scanning the floor. “That bitch.”
38
Emilio
Present Day
* * *
Loaded down with guns and enough drugs to sell off and make a good amount of money, we move through the tunnel quickly when I hear footsteps up ahead.
I look over at Domenico. “She’s in here. Go get here.”
He nods, jogging onward.
I wince, slowing my steps. “Take your shirt off and tie it around my arm,” I order Victor as I lean back against the wall. I drop my gun and remove my blazer, sucking in as I rip it from my arm. I assess the gunshot. A little hole the size of a nickel. Blood trickles out of it. I should have already stopped the bleeding, but I had to get away from the cops.
I still can’t believe it. I thought for sure it was Enrique’s men after–– Enrique.
Oh, what a shame. He’s begun working for the police. Who knew Enrique would become an informer?
Victor tears his shirt so it’ll go around my arm, and I clench my teeth when he pulls it tight. I wipe the sweat from my brow, feeling faint.
I must get out of this damn tunnel.
I need her.
Doesn’t she see?
We can have a good life together. If she would do what I say, we could be a power couple. The money and lifestyle we would have with her father’s empire. Having her earlier reminded me of how much I crave her softness, the way her body feels against mine. I’ve been a fool to stay away for so long. I should have taken her sooner, but I’ve been so wrapped up with gaining control.
Still, I know it will be she and I in the end.
I own her.
She’s mine.
She’ll always be mine.
Gunshots blast up ahead.
I push off the wall, grabbing my gun with a hard grunt as a pain so sharp spreads out from my side.
“Go,” I say to Victor.
He looks concerned.
“I’m fine, you fool. Go get my woman!”
He hesitates but does as I say. I hiss as I lift my shirt, the fabric sticking to my cut. I examine the deep slice in my side. It’s red and bloody.
I drop the shirt and free a long breath. “She and I. It’ll be she and I.” I hobble down the tunnel.
39
Gabriella
Present Day
* * *
A soft caramel light fills the tunnel, the air around us heavy and dank. Dirt falls from the sides as we try to hurry through, but the space is tight. Much too tight for full running. Foster must bend to keep from hitting his head. Sweat rivers down my back as I touch the side of the tunnel, trying not to trip.
Iliana rushes in front of us, clutching onto her bag of money. Her long dress is bunched in one hand, revealing her legs. Down them, I see the scars Christian put there.
I can’t imagine what she’s been through in her life. Probably some of the same as me, but more.
She’s been married to Christian for a long time; they have children together. Those poor kids.
We breathe heavy, and she starts to slow, her bag of money pressed to her chest, her blonde hair falling around her face.
“I think we lost them,” she says.
I nod as we stop, resting my hands on my thighs as I bend and try to catch my breath. My hair has fallen, too, and I can feel the burn around my eyes from smeared mascara. I turn my head, looking at Foster. His hair’s disheveled, his face splattered with mist of dirt and dried crimson.
“We need to keep going,” he says, looking behind him. “I think I hear…”
“I’ve got them,” Domenico yells out.
Foster raises his gun, pointing it at Domenico. My mouth dries completely. Terror shakes my bones.
“You’ll do well to stay back.”
A hateful smile. “No can do.” He points his own gun and fires. We three duck and I hear Iliana move ahead. Foster shoots his gun.
“Shit,” Domenico says from behind us, but we don’t wait to see where it hit him.
“Go,” Foster says. I hold the walls as I will my legs to move quickly. Dust and dirt rain down around us as we run for our lives. My nails dig into the sides, gripping and clawing.
It’s impossible to run at full speed, but we damn near do it. My thighs burn, my calves scream, and sweat pours out of me, and then something amazing appears. Light.
As beautiful as the sunrise on a winter morning. Eddies of dust float in its silver rays. Iliana takes hold of the ladder, hitting her arm against the door once she reaches the top. Yelling sounds down the passageway.
“Hurry,” I say to her as she grunts.
“Let me do it,” Foster says, his voice rushed and panic-stricken. Sweat mingles with old blood trickling down the side of his head.
Iliana hits once more and the door pops open. Fragments of old filth fly down on us. She clears the top and I follow, looking down at my love just as Domenico punches him in the face.
“No,” I gasp.
Foster stumbles back into the ladder, but as Domenico goes for him again, he blocks it, punches Domenico in the gut, and with his full body, hits him in the head with his gun before shoving him back and shooting him in the knee once and then twice. Domenico screams, falling backward.
My eyes widen in shock.
Foster looks up at me with a lopsided grin.
“Where did that come from?”
“I learned a few things.” He winks, climbing up.
I reach for him, and then to my horror a gunshot sounds through the channel. Foster’s face contorts in pain, and he falls to the floor, landing on his back with a hard whoosh. Panic seeps into my core.
“I see you lived, Doc.” An evil laugh filled with malice and crazy. Emilio appears, looking up the ladder. His shoulder falls against it. He waves his hand up at me. Blood covered. New blood, fresh beautiful ruby red in the burn of the moonlight.
“You forgot something.”
I look at the bracelet in his hand and then my wrist. I narrow my eyes at him, hearing something behind me, but not looking away from the scene below me. My knees protest as I bear my weight on them. Foster lies in the dirt, his pants soaked with crimson. Emilio grips onto the ladder as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
“Here,” Iliana whispers from behind me. I feel the coldness of the gun against my skin, and I wrap my hand around it.
Careful.
“I can’t believe we’re here again. I thought for certain the doc wouldn’t be an issue any longer, but here he is,” he kicks Foster, “making trouble for us all.” He laughs, sweat soaking his hair, blood staining the white shirt he wears.
He’s hurt in more than one place.
Good.
He coughs, and I look to Victor who has his gun pointed at Foster.
Foster gazes up at me, holding onto his leg. My hands tremble, but I know what I must do. While Emilio looks down, I show Foster my gun. His eyes dart to Victor, who looks more concerned for Emilio’s state than shooting Foster.
Having heard Iliana cock the gun, I know it’s ready. I pull the gun up and situate myself so I can shoot him.
Emilio coughs again, and I notice the blood coming from his mouth. Foster nods, and I shoot. The power of the gun vibrates my hand, and I hit Victor in the chest. He falls immediately. Foster grabs Emilio’s legs and yanks him down before climbing on top of him and punching him in the face.
Emilio covers his head, but Foster keeps going, over and over. I can feel the rage, hot and heavy, seeping off him. I can feel it because I know it, too. Deep in my marrow, swirling with a darkness I obtained from living a life I didn’t choose.
Forced to be brave, to take what I was given and shut up about it. I grew armor both on the inside and out to keep myself from breaking. I did well, but no longer must I wear that heavy defense. I’m free of it now.
Foster hits Emilio’s side, and he cries out. I snap out of my own rage.
“Foster. Leave him,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“I should kill you right now,” Foster grits. “I should wrap my hands around your throat and watch as you stop breathing.”
Emilio coughs out a laugh, blood splattering onto his lips. “But you’re supposed to heal people, Doc.”
Crazy. He’s out of his mind with crazy.
Foster stares at him for longer than we have time.
“If you two are coming, you better get with it,” Iliana says from behind me.
“Foster.”
“He will never stop coming after you,” he says, pain and anger apparent in his voice. His black blazer is filthy, and his head is still wrapped with the fabric of my dress.
I know he’s right. Deep down inside of me, I know he won’t stop looking. But we can get away. We can go to the other side of the world if we must.
“You’re a doctor, Foster. You don’t kill people. No matter how much they deserve it.” And I say this because I know… I know this beautiful man would feel the guilt of that.
This man, who helped save animals as a boy, who reads medical books for fun so he can be a better doctor, who once enjoyed his work before all of this.
No matter how evil Emilio is, no matter what he’s done. Foster is a good man, and he shouldn’t have to bear the weight of Emilio’s death.
Domenico lies in agony, holding onto his knees, whimpering. He’ll never walk right again if he ever walks at all.
Foster’s shoulders slump, and he shoves off the now unconscious Emilio, his eyes going to Victor who lies motionless.
I killed him.
I killed a man.
Without a single second thought, I shot him.
And that is something I must live with. But it helps to know it was either end him or he would have ended my love. I had no choice.
