Page 74 of Killing Emma

Again. Him. Why is it always him?

I don’t even have any words for her, but she seems to have more than enough to spew at me.

“You think you can order me around, and you get to control everyone in my life?” she yells at me, shoving my chest again. “You get to leave and blow off talking to me.” Shove. “You get to decide who lives or dies.” Shove. “You get to break all the fucking rules you want to, and you don’t care what I think or feel.” Shove.

I barely move with every hit, taking it with absolutely no emotion. This must be what Victor talked about when he mentioned love. When you fucking love someone, you become someone you don’t recognize. I’d go to battle for this woman, and I’ll take hits from her…

But she’s going to battle for him. I’m just the punching bag.

“Go to bed,” I tell Emma, my voice strained.

“More instructions,” she snaps. “Great.”

“Just go away!” I break into a roar on the last word, finally startling her. I instantly feel guilty, but the pain is so much more unbearable.

“You really just don’t get it,” she mumbles, shaking her head and then disappearing from the room.

I do get it. You love him.

I pick up the chair and hurl it across the room, the wooden frame splintering against the fridge. Fucking moisture rims my eyes, and I’ve never been so fucking pissed in my life. Her loser ex-husband is the only thing that ever leads to a fight between us, and it’s the most enraging thing I’ve ever felt.

The buzz of my phone grabs my attention, and I pull it out of my pocket, seeing a California number. It’s not Jude. But it’s not blocked.

I connect the call and lift the phone to my ear.

“Ah, so now you pick up,” Ivan’s voice laughs. My hands instantly begin to shake. “Fights are tough, aren’t they?” I nearly drop my phone.

“Where the fuck are you?” I choke out, glancing to the window.

“Well, I’d ask the same thing to you, but I finally found you, tucked away in your little oasis with your lover. Did you fuck in the pool of my son’s blood?”

I grit my teeth. “Where are you?”

“We could’ve just met for lunch, you know. We didn’t have to do it like this. Victor would’ve been so disappointed in you.”

My head swirls, sweat beads up across my forehead. I head for the pantry, slipping into the windowless room. “He’d be disappointed in a lot of things,” I say as I put the phone on speaker and send the trace information to Jude.

“He always said you’d never last. He said you were broken before he ever got you. I thought he was wrong, until you got him killed. And now you’ve taken one too many people from my life, Luca. One too many. Victor might not have loved you, but I loved Manny.”

My phone buzzes. Jude sends coordinates along with, He faked his location being right outside the house to fuck with you. Go get him. I’ll keep you updated.

I hang up on Ivan, no longer needing his call. “Shit.” My heart jumps, and I gaze toward the stairs. Emma. I rush to the kitchen and rip the drawer open, grabbing a notepad and pen.

Got a location. I have to go now.

I drop the pen and grab my silenced Glock from the top of the fridge. However, as I go for the garage, I stop, shaking my head. There’s no guarantee I’ll make it out of this—and she needs to know.

I jog back to the notepad, and I write what I really should’ve said in the middle of the argument.

I love you, Little Red.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Emma

I toss and turn, coming in and out of bad dreams of Luca taking me all the way into blackness.

“Please stop,” I beg as Luca pins me down on the floor. His eyes, a glowing shade of midnight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

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