Page 69 of Issued

The dozen gianthelium balloons enter the house before me, jockeying for position and filling my view with their reflective surfaces. My other hand holds a huge bouquet of colorful flowers, and I have a pink pastry box nestled to my chest. I push the balloons and take a few steps into the foyer, sniffing the air. “Hey, is that food I smell? Unburned food, even?”

The next step I take, something crunches under my shoe. I glance down, and that’s when every cell in my body turns to ice. Broken ceramic punctuated by bright red blood. Both droplets and a trail.

The balloons slip from one hand and float up to the ceiling. The pastry box and flowers crash to the floor. My body kicks into fight mode.

My heartbeat is anything but gentle, my pulse drumming away in my ears. “Taya!”

The tips of painted toes peek around the corner into the kitchen. Taya’s toes, but with the angle all off. Like she’s lying on the floor. Not moving.

A hard body slams into my legs the second I round the corner into the kitchen. I fall backward, twist and roll while kicking out with my foot, breaking my fall and connecting with something solid.

I scramble to my feet while my attacker does the same. We face off in the foyer, circling one another. I recognize the dark-haired man from the picture on the disc and too many thoughts pulse through my head, accompanied by the taste of fear. “Marco.”

“Sorry it had to be like this. It’s just business.” He smiles and then rushes me, something silver flashing in his hand. I whirl away just in time while bile fills my mouth. The end of the blade glistens red with blood.

Taya’s blood.

Fury on a scale I’ve never experienced before erupts beneath my skin, spewing like an active volcano. So intense, that I’m half waiting for lava to explode from my pores. I want to explode so badly, but I know I can’t. One wrong move and Taya is dead for sure.

So I dig somewhere deep down and tap into every bit of training I possess, until a cool detached calm clears my head.If you don’t see an opportunity at first, that’s okay. Bide your time until you can make one. Be brave, but smart. Brave men die all the time. Smart men live to be brave another day.

All I need is for him to make one mistake. Just one. Then I’ll have that knife out of his hand. I search the area for anything I can use, and my gaze lands on the disc in Marco’s other hand. “So you found it. Good for you. Too bad I made copies.”

The other man’s nostrils flare before his eyes narrow. “Liar.”

I shrug like I don’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, another piece of my heart dies, every second I can’t reach Taya. When Marco hesitates, I try a different tactic. “Why don’t I make you a deal? Let me go make sure Taya is okay, and then I’ll call my friends and have them all dump the discs at a location of your choosing, no questions asked. Either that, or you can take another run at me.”

When Marco’s hands dip the slightest bit, I stomp on the piece of shattered glass next to my right foot. The sharp crunch causes his gaze to drop down toward my feet, and that’s all the advantage I need. I feign to the right and lunge, grabbing the wrist of the arm holding the knife and ducking beneath him while using my other hand to brace his shoulder so that I can crank his wrist until he screams. A bone cracks and the knife clatters to the floor.

I kick the cutlery away and punch him in the kidney. Again. And again. And again.

Then I use my legs to tangle with his and flip us both to the ground.

Marco surprises me by twisting free. Panting, he crawls for the knife, his left wrist bent at an unnatural angle. My hand curls around a thick, jagged piece of the broken mug just as he grabs his own weapon and starts to roll over. I’m on top of him, pinning him across the throat with my forearm. He struggles, and the knife flies toward me. The blade grazes my skin and I hiss just as I jam the thick chunk of ceramic into the side of his throat, bisecting the carotid. Blood spurts everywhere. “Go straight to hell.”

His eyes bulge, and gradually he goes limp. When his chest stops moving, I’m on my feet and running the last few steps into the kitchen and round the corner of the island.

Taya is sprawled on her stomach on the floor. There’s so much blood, it brings me to my knees. Her clothes are soaked with it, and when I pull her into my lap, cradling her against my chest, I’m both relieved and heartbroken her body is still warm.

I break through the nightmare haze and pull my cell out of my pocket, and pick out the three numbers.

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

“My wife has been stabbed. She’s not moving. Please. Send an ambulance. Hurry.”

I barely remember giving my address. Or hanging up and calling Bear afterward. I barely remember anything at all but the contrast of the pale, cold flesh of Taya’s face against the red blood pooled on the floor.

I thought when I finally snapped, it would be in stages. Instead, I’m torn down all at once, decimated in a single breath. She doesn’t stir at first, but when I shift her in my arms, pain brings her eyes open with a suddenness that damn near stops my heart.

“Please don’t die.” Is that my voice? It doesn’t sound like me. I’ve never begged for anything. Not even my life. I’m begging now. “Hold on for me, baby. Please. I need you to hold on.”

Her eyes flutter, and it’s hard to tell if she can hear me. I keep talking anyway. It’s not like I can stop. Desperation won’t let me. “Taya, keep your eyes open,” I snap when her next blink lasts a second too long.

“I’m sorry.” I’m starting to hate those words, but I say them anyway. “I’m so, so sorry I left you. Fuck the balloons. I shouldn’t have left you all alone. I’ll never leave you again, just please keep your eyes open.”

Tears fall from me to strike her cheeks like raindrops. Her eyes gaze dreamily at something above my head. “You got me balloons.”

I glance up and sure enough, there are the balloons I brought home. Bobbing against the ceiling like a crowd of voyeurs. I’m going to pop every one of those bastards the second I know Taya is okay.

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