Page 58 of What's Left of Us

At the top of the stairs the door to the office itself is cracked. I pause when I realize there’s someone sitting in Vinny’s bulky office chair. He’s slouched down, so I can only make out the man’s legs and boots and not the top of his head.

I groan, stepping into the office and throwing my purse on the table near the door. “Emeric, I swear to God. We do not need a babysitter-”

The chair spins as Vinny comes up behind me, and I freeze just a couple steps into the room. He looks like every dream and nightmare I’ve had combined together, and my breath catches as our eyes meet.

His hair is shorter, but those dual colored eyes are unmistakable. I almost can’t hear my voice when I speak. “Alastair?”

He smirks, and that’s the kind of familiarity I’ve longed for. “Hello, lovebirds.”

Chapter 18

“H-how?”

Alastair doesn’t stand, or even straighten in the chair as we stare at him. His coy smile remains in place as he studies us, and I feel Vinny move to stand beside me but I can’t tear my eyes away from the man sitting in our office.

“Oh, a little mafia protegé decided I’m more useful alive than dead.”

I’m not really sure what that means, and I don’t care. I sprint over to him, throwing myself into his body, and he grunts as I wrap as much of myself as I can around him. His grip is strong when he envelopes me, his breath dancing across my bare shoulders. It’s like the last month of hell melts away as I hold onto him, the ache in my chest easing.

Hands reach around my back, gripping his shoulders, and I feel Alastair tip his head and then another head touching the back of mine. Vinny holds us both as Alastair hugs me, and I can’t understand how this is real.

I saw him die. I saw the bullets disappear into his jumpsuit and the patches of red that bloomed after the wounds.The light in his eyes died, and he stopped seeing me. He saw something else in that hospital, something I don’t understand. I thought we buried him.

Then Alastair leans back from our hug, forcing Vinny to lean away too, and his lips claim mine. Vinny steps in closer, practically crushing me between the two of them, and I tighten my arms around Alastair’s neck, desperate for more.

His kisses are feverish, needy, and I match the intensity. They are strong kisses, just like the way his tongue slides over mine before seeking entrance and diving into my mouth. I moan against him, and he inhales sharply beneath me.

Leaning away, he nips my lips and makes me rock against him. I need more, but my head is dizzy between lust and confusion. I echo the question from before, because his answer was more confusing than helpful. “How?”

Alastair’s eyes meet mine, raising his brows as he stares up at me. “Do you really want to get into it all right now?”

I shake my head, mentally cursing my curiosity, and drag my hands from his neck down his chest. My fingertips dance down his chest as I try to take all of him in while he’s sitting here in our club.

He hisses in pain, and I rip my hands away.Fuck.

Vinny reaches over me at the same time I go for the buttons on Alastair’s shirt, my mind going into overdrive as I remember exactly what happened to make me think he was dead. Tearing the shirt open, I gasp. “Oh.Oh.”

My voice is pitiful compared to the marks on his chest. I knew he got shot,twice,but seeing the damage for myself is another matter.

I glance up, meeting his gaze before reaching out towards the wounds. He grabs my hand, settling it over one, and I can’t make myself look away from his eyes as I trace the mark with my thumb.

It’s circular, the skin around it rough and patchy. Swallowing, I glance away from him to study it. As I look Vinny’s hand snakes beneath mine, touching the wound closer to his sternum. Mine is closer to his right shoulder, and I carefully trace the uneven circle.

Two bullets. Two wounds. Two more things that nearly took him away from me again.

My eyes dance lower on his torso, and I have the time to notice things I couldn’t focus on last time we were together. The cabin is burned in my mind as a pivotal moment in my life, but everything happened so fast I didn’t get to ask him questions or study him the way that I wanted to. Now I notice there’s small black tattoos in different spots on his torso; nothing huge but enough to draw the eye but interesting enough that I want to know their origin. To me they are designs with no meaning, but every decision Alastair’s ever made he made with purpose. Nothing is more prominent however than the two bullet wounds.

Alastair reaches up, brushing my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“Don’t cry for my scars, Jo,” he tells me, gripping my chin, “when I gave you yours.”

I whimper, unsure what to say. Do I slap him for the reminder or kiss him because I’m so very damn glad he’s alive? I just shake my head, unable to tear my eyes from his despite how watery my vision is. “I don’t blame you anymore.”

Alastair grimaces, and I don’t know what that means until he releases my chin and rubs subtly at the marks on his chest. My eyes widen and I scramble back off of him before he can say anything, bumping into my husband.

It’s the first time I look away from Alastair, and when my eyes catch Vinny’s, I can see the same amount of surprise mirrored there. He had no idea about this either, and that makesme feel slightly better. At least he wasn’t hiding something this big from me.

Vinny turns back to Alastair first, his voice more level-headed than mine was. “You’re still hurting. Why did you come here?”

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