Page 20 of Don't Break My Heart
“Just keep it steady,” Orlando instructs, and I do all I can to focus on the sound of his voice over the roar of the engine and the thumping of my frantic heart.
Even though I try my best to keep it together, the further we go, the more my hands shake terribly. This isn’t just my first time riding a bike, I’m also still slightly inebriated. Why did I have to drink the better part of a bottle of whiskey tonight? It seemed like a good idea at the time, when all I wanted was to have a little fun and block this situation out of my head. But now, riding through the unknown city streets of Rome, I might kill both of us and that thought is utterly terrifying.
“Where do I take you?” I yell through the helmet.
“Valentine’s place. It’s not far from here, I’ll direct you.” I feel the way he winces in pain as he says it, and I know we’re running out of time. “Right at the next street,” he tells me when I approach a corner.
Gripping the handles tighter, I try to keep the bike straight as I navigate the narrow turn. The balance is shaky and feels like we’re going to tip, but I hold on for dear fucking life, praying to anyone that will listen to keep us alive.
“Shit,” I hear him curse in my ear as he reaches for the handles to steady us.
I correct just in time, and we keep on down the road. I’m pretty sure if I don’t kill us by crashing this fucking thing, I’m going to have a heart attack and die anyway. Because right now, my heart is pounding louder than the engine.
“It’s up here on the left; you’ll see the iron gates like at our villa.”
“How do I fucking stop?” I shout behind me, terrified all over again. They didn’t think this through. I should have stayed and foughtwith them. A gun I can handle. Someone else should have gotten him to safety. I can’t be the reason he doesn’t make it.
“Let off the gas… now!” he rasps, his hold on me getting weaker by the second. “Right foot, that’s your rear brake. Slow. Go slow. Don’t touch the front brake too hard!”
Tentatively I ease off the throttle, my shaky foot pressing the pedal. The bike wobbles as the engine whines in protest.
I feel his good hand come to mine. “Clutch in with your left hand! Now both brakes… gently.”
My fingers, sweaty and tense, grip the levers with white-knuckle force. The bike lurches forward with a sudden jerk as it slows, then dips slightly to the left, the tires crunching on the gravel. I throw my feet down just in time, narrowly avoiding a collision with the stone wall holding up the Moretti front gate.
“I stopped,” I gasp, checking my body is still in one piece, hardly able to believe it. I pull the helmet off and move out of Orlando’s hold, keeping a hand on him at all times.
His tired eyes run over me like he can’t focus. He’s pale, and my heart lurches knowing how bad this is for him. His lips drop to my cheek clumsily. “I told you I’m a man of my word, treasure.” His words shake out in a way that makes me want to puke. He sounds drunk, out of it.
“What the fuck are you going on about?” I ask in panic, wondering if he’s losing his mind the pain is so bad.
“I promised you I would teach you how to ride. That was your first lesson. Next time we do it when I’m not in so much pain.” I feel him slip away from me and catch his arm as he starts to fall off the bike, using all my strength to bring him down to the soft grass gently. I pray we haven’t just done more damage. For a split second, I stare at hisbeautiful face, fear coursing through me. He smiles up at me, then his eyes slowly close. I grip his hand tighter. Fuck, no. I’m losing him.
I whip my head around, looking for something, anything that can help us. Then I see the intercom on the gate. I sprint toward the front gates of his brother’s place, banging on the intercom with all my force. I can’t lose Orlando, not now. “Valentine, help, please, Orlando has been shot,” I call through the speaker as soon as it clicks over, tears now wetting my face and blurring my eyes so bad I can’t see straight.
“Ava?” he asks, confused and sounding groggy and out of it.
“Yes. Please help me, he’s passed out at your gate,” I cry.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” He disconnects the call, his voice filled with panic.
I rush back over to Orlando, dropping down to my knees. Checking his pulse, it’s faint but it’s there. I pull up his shirt and my stomach drops when I see a smear of dark red blood covering his chest. Oh, dear God, he’s going to bleed to death right in front of me. I rip off his jacket and apply pressure to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Tears stream down my face.
“Don’t you fucking leave me here,” I cry, the pain lodged in my chest taking over the adrenaline rush. “I fucking love you, Orlando. Please don’t leave me.”
I have no idea how long I hold him like this, praying to whoever will listen that he will be okay. I feel another hand on my shoulder and realize his brother is right behind me. He drops to his knees beside me. “Doctor is on his way, I’m taking over.” He looks distraught as he takes the blood-soaked jacket from my hands and applies pressure to the wound. “What the fuck did you do?” His furious eyes come to me as if this is my fault.
“It was an ambush outside of your club.” I whimper, knowing this couldn’t have been my fault, but the hate in his eyes scares the shit outof me. I take a shaky step back, not sure if I’m going to vomit or pass out.
Orlando has to pull through, I can’t do this without him.
Chapter 10
ItfeelslikeIhave been pacing the same spot of carpet for hours. Wearing a hole in it, I’m sure. There’s a sickness sitting in the pit of my stomach I have never experienced before. Orlando has to be okay. I can’t think of a world without him in it, no matter how much he pisses me off with his possessive, domineering ways.
Reef’s hand comes to my back, gently rubbing circles as he paces with me. “Come sit down, wildcat, you must be exhausted.”
He, Romeo, and Onyx arrived at Valentine’s estate about an hour after we did. Beat-up and smeared with blood splatters, but alive. The car we all arrived in was smashed up all down one side but drivable. Romeo tells me they took care of the problem back at the club, but who knows what that means. Right now, all I can focus on is praying that Orlando will pull through. The four of us have hung out in the living room of Valentine’s house for hours waiting for any sign of how Orlando is doing from the doctor who arrived to operate on him.
