Page 98 of Meet Me in Montreal

“You just carry that around?” Bobby asked over the growing noise of the fire inside the house.

“Don’t ask. We need to determine where they are. We’re looking for three, potentially, Vanessa, Zoe and Antoinette,” Santino said rapidly.

“On it. Wait, Antoinette?”

“Long story.”

Bobby went to the window on the left while Santino went to peer in the right. And what he saw through the smoke and the flames was Antoinette on the floor, not moving. Zoe, he couldn’t see at all.

But what he could see of Vanessa stopped his heart. A big man was crawling on top of her, holding something long and black in his hand.

Malone.That fucking bastard. Santino should have broken his neck the second they’d spotted him in Montreal when he had the chance.

It was his nightmares coming to ugly life. The safety glass he’d so carefully constructed around Vanessa had shattered. But there was no time for regrets, action.

“I see them in there, but I think the door’s on fire,” Bobby said, his voice as frantic as he looked. He cocked his elbow like he was about to put his fist through the window.

“Don’t break the windows,” Santino exclaimed. “It’ll just add oxygen to the fire.”

Same as if he busted down that door. The fire would eat the air greedily and grow into an even bigger, faster monster. Instead, he raced down the right side of the house along the gate.

No fire or smoke was coming from the eaves on this side. He thanked any Heavenly entity listening that the side gate was unlocked, and so was the sliding door. Bobby was right on his heels and yelled, “Zoe!” when they’d reached the living room. She was on the floor, crawling weakly with one side of her face swollen and her eye shut.

Bobby picked Zoe up, coughing as the smoke enveloped him. It was difficult to see what else was happening as the flames swept through the room like a laughing beast, heading up the stairs and toward the back of the house to see what else it could consume.

Leaving the sliding door open had given it more of the oxygen it craved, and it grew hotter, screaming with delight at the chance to eat and eat.

But then there was Vanessa, raising her head at the sound of his voice. “Santino!” she called in a sob.

That man, animal, whatever he was, had his muscled arm around her neck in a choke hold, but his own hair was matted with what looked like blood. Dark hair, not red. Not Malone.

It didn’t matter who the fuck he was. Santino dragged him off Vanessa, pulling him up and over by the arm. The stranger lay face up, coughing and heaving with smoke. That’s when his eyes lowered to the axe Santino was carrying. Suddenly, he kicked the back of Santino’s lower leg and swept him off his feet. The axe clattered to the floor.

The man threw himself on top of Santino this time, landing a punch with a heavy fist. Black stars shook and shimmered in front of his eyes. Another punch, another burst of pain and shooting stars. Santino punched back, knocking the other man off.

He tried clearing the blackness out of his head. Saw the guy was crawling away, back in Vanessa’s direction. But then hecame back for Santino, holding a long black metal bar up over his head even though he was visibly trembling with exhaustion.

Before he could strike, Santino kicked. His heavily booted feet connected squarely with the man’s gut. The force of the kick sent him flying backward, and he slammed into the fiery door.

His shirt and hair caught fire. He screamed and danced a grotesque, whirling jig as he batted at the flames. Apparently, this asshole hadn’t been paying attention to the basic “stop, drop and roll” mantra Santino taught to kids.

Santino looked around, coughing in the smoke until he spotted his axe. The guy finally remembered the lesson, dropped to the floor, rolling and putting out the flames on the area rug. He was trying to crawl away.

Santino caught him as he tried to pass Antoinette, who was still out cold. Pulled the man’s arm and turned him over once again. He was coughing, moaning, reaching up with a blistering hand. Begging. For what, mercy?

Santino didn’t have any left. He’d used it all up. So he swung. And swung. And swung again until the man stopped moving.

All the fear, all the rage, everything tore loose from inside him. He gave it all to this person, thisthingthat dared to think it could come in here and hurt the only person who’d ever carried his heart. Who still carried it, whether she wanted it or not.

“Santi…”

The sound of Vanessa’s weakened voice brought back a reminder of the smoke that could still kill her from the inside out. It snapped him out of the red haze clouding his head. He threw the axe down next to the body as the flames fully engulfed the ceiling.

There wasn’t much time left. His lungs screamed at him. Every muscle and joint of his body aching from the battle. Still, he swung Vanessa up into his arms.

Antoinette? He hesitated for a moment, but he squeezed his eyes shut. Made his split-second decision. Vanessa had to live. If there was time… but there wasn’t. He looked at the girl who’d been his friend for so many years of his life. He’d tried to save her once already. He’d paid the price for that, couldn’t pay it again. He took his wife to safety. But before he hit the kitchen, a man appeared. Tall, sharp-featured, dressed in an expensive suit.

Occhi azzurri e capelli biondi.

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