Page 40 of Wicked Union

I'm trembling, still aiming my gun at him even as he reaches for his own, but he doesn't get it in time. I fire off a few more rounds, not even counting how many I have left. The blood splatters everywhere, so much of it. It stains my conscience and my clothing. I can't look away from him, can't peel my eyes off his dying form. I did that. I murdered him, and I'm going to throw up now.

"Hey, it's okay," I hear, and then I feel hands on me. Startled, I jerk and inadvertently fire off another round when Tito's hand slides down my arm to lower the weapon. "It's over, baby."

I turn and curl into him. He was right. I don't belong out here with guns and bloodshed. I'm strong, and I can do a lot of things, but killing apparently isn't one of them. Tito holds me tightly against his chest, and I sniffle a few more times, listening to the patter of feet on the steps and down the hall.

"We got it locked up, Boss. Should we head out?" An unfamiliar voice says the words, and I stay hidden in my husband's chest.

"Go on… Tony and I will clear everything and make sure the cleaners get here." Tito's warm baritone rumbles my chest, and I hear the door opening and shutting. "I need to do one more sweep, okay? You go wait in the car. I'll be right out."

For a second, I think of handing him the gun, but even in the car there is danger. If someone approaches the building or the car, I need to defend myself. I loathe the idea of killing another person, but I take it with me, nodding.

I slip back into the cover of night alone. The others have already dispersed, leaving the alley empty. I hear voices and move that direction, seeing the light on the street a hundred yards away, but one of those voices sounds familiar, too familiar. It's Carlos, and he wasn't part of our raid party coming in. What the hell is he doing here? It makes the hairs on my arm stand on end.

Ducking behind a dumpster, I crouch down in the darkness trying to make myself invisible. My mind has played a trick on me, making me think Carlos was coming from the direction I need to go, and in reality, he comes from the opposite way, which is why he never saw our men moving that way. He's with three other men. I can only see their silhouettes, but I hear their voices distinctly… Russians.

Anger is ignited in my chest as they move toward the door and open it. One of them comments about how it's unlocked, and all four of them pull their weapons. Tito is in there with Tony, outnumbered two-to-one, and the gun in my trembling hand could even the score. But I sit paralyzed, seeing the blood of the man I killed splattered all over the wall, the steps, his body.

I can't bring myself to move and go in there. I know if I do, I have to kill more, and I don't know if I can do that. So I stay planted where I am, even when guns start going off again. I hear muffledshouting, men's angry voices, more gunshots, and my fear rises. Finally, I am thawed, able to jog to the door where I can hear more closely what's being said. I stand to the side and press my body against the brick exterior.

"You know she's turning on you. She's the one who set you up, Tito. Look around you. Don't you get it? You think she hired a fixer to take the Russians down, and sure, you killed a few of them tonight, but look where you are." Carlos's voice sounds victorious, boastful, as if he's gloating over a dying man, not toe-to-toe with an enemy. Because he is definitely Tito's enemy.

"You… You're going to pay." Tito's voice is hoarse, gasping for air. It makes me sick in the stomach again, but thankfully, I'm used to that feeling. I can't stand here and listen to him gasping for breath not knowing what's going on. I don't care if there are more shots fired or if I die. My husband needs me.

I whip around and yank the door open, marching into the tight hallway with my gun raised. Tito lies on the floor with a knife in his belly, high near his liver, and Carlos stands over him with a boot on his neck. Tony is on the ground writhing in his own blood. One of the Russians is lying face down, lifeless, and two others stand near Carlos. I take it all in in a split second before pointing my gun at Carlos and shooting, one, two, three shots, and he falls.

The others open fire, but my gun is faster, meeting one in the shoulder and another in the gut. The two men drop their weapons and fall to the ground, and I stand over Carlos who is grasping his knee, rolling back and forth. His weapon is still on his hip, and I disarm him, throwing it to the corner near the dead man I killed earlier.

"You sick fuck!" I scream, kicking him hard in the wounded knee. I missed with all shots but one, and it hit his leg, but it's enough to injure him. He can't do much anymore except scream.

"Tell him, Aria… Tell him you're the one who made this all happen. Tell him you were supporting me," Carlos taunts while his men lie on the ground out cold.

"Shut up!" I shout, kicking his knee again to draw another scream. I run to Tito, whose body now is soaked in sweat. He's shaking from shock and bleeding so heavily he will die without help.

"Oh, God. No. Tito…" Laying my gun down, I wrap my arms around him and pull his head onto my lap. I need an ambulance or at least someone to come help me get him out of here before one of Carlos's men comes to or Carlos gets to his gun. "Fuck… I'm so sorry." I weep, curling over him.

Then the door opens, and Nigel struts in with two more of my father's men. We're saved, for now… But now, Tito knows I'm the one who made this happen, and I don’t know how he will react.

If he even lives to have a reaction…

30

TITO

Iblink my eyes into focus. The lights are bright overhead, and I hear sirens roaring. I'm moving, being jostled by a force greater than myself. Two people, a man and a woman in what appears to be scrubs, sit on either side of me. I'm in pain, excruciating pain. There's something strapped to my face, a breathing mask, possibly? Am I in an ambulance?

“Mr. Ramiro, you have been stabbed. We're taking you to Our Lady of Mercy Hospital.” One of the EMTs is speaking to me, but I'm barely able to understand what they're saying. I feel lightheaded and dizzy, probably an effect from losing blood.

“Two CC's of epi now," the other one says.

I try to look around, try to locate whether Aria is in the ambulance with us, but I don't see her. And that little bit of activity makes me feel so exhausted, I have to shut my eyes. It's hard to breathe. It's hard to move. I remember marching into that furniture store and warehouse to take back the dignity that was stolen from me when my enemies attacked Aria’s father's home. I don't, however, remember how I ended up in this ambulance on my way to the hospital.

"My wife,” I croak out, but before I'm able to hear a response, I lose consciousness again, sucked into the void of blackness where I stay for I don't even know how long.

The rhythmic whirring and beeping of machines lulls me to a state of consciousness. There's a pressure on my chest, as if someone or something is lying there. I'm groggy. I don't remember where I'm at or how I got here. I smell the faint hint of lavender shampoo, and I think of Aria, her smile warming my heart without even having seen her.

I try to open my eyes but I feel like I've been drugged. And that's not all I feel. I'm in pain, a pain unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It starts beneath my rib cage and spreads across my whole torso. I try to breathe in a deep breath, but the pain is so intense I wince. Like fire and ice being poured into my veins at the same time, a volcano meeting an avalanche and suffocating me in its world of heat and pressure.

I am not a weak man. I have stood upon the precipice of death many times, looked into the void of eternity and questioned my existence, what comes after this life. But this—this is excruciating. And then it all comes back to me—the look in my brother's eye as he pushed the knife into my gut is all I can think about. The anger in those eyes, the jealousy. And the words he said to me as he did it were even more painful.

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