Page 129 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
When we hit the street, I start to look for Liam and the car, dreading what I’ll find, but I see him in a small crowd, an ice pack pressed to his head. I then spy Mikey. And beyond him, outside one of our SUVs, Callahan paces, smoking hard. He stops and looks up.
There’s relief and thunder, mixed into one expression.
I shove Harry into the back seat of the SUV, but Cal grabs me. “Took you long enough to clear the shot for Dec.”
I frown. I was distracted, but that distracted? I would have… seen… wouldn’t I? Shit. I try and play it back, but all I can see is Siobhan, a monster, and my girl, in danger of being eaten.
All I can see when I try to remember again is Harry pulling the trigger and having to walk with the weight of Shiv’s soul on her if I’d let her see the aftermath. But…
Christ. Harry is adistraction.
I shake my head. “He didn’t?—”
“He did. Seamus told him to make sure it was utterly clear or you’d jump in, and he should let you take the shot if you could. But Harry pulled her trigger at the same time he did. She missed, but he got her. She’s clean. Harry’s clean.” Then Cal takes my face and pulls me in close. “You’re fucking trembling.”
My breaths come in labored pants, the waves of sick relief, the tsunami of horrible what-if scenarios thunder down and threaten to destroy me.
Never in my fucking life have I felt like this.
I look at Cal. “She could have died, Cal. Harry. My girl. She could have… Because of me. You need to save her.”
He isn’t listening. His face is grim and deadly. “If she’d killed that mad, selfish bitch I never fucking liked in the first place, I’d let Harry wear that honor with pride, Tor. But I’m glad it wasn’t her because you’d end up wearing it. And I’m glad it wasn’t you because… same reasons. Plus, now Dec’s feeling he’s made up for buying those weapons like a fucking moron.”
“From Shiv.” I can’t stop shaking. I can’t get in enough air. “We’re gonna need to clean up the Irish here,” I say. “She’ll have people on us.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “How…?”
I know what he’s asking—how did Shiv survive the shit show in Dublin? “Long story.”
A mad one, but long.
But he says, “Not that. How do you feel?”
“Relieved Harry’s okay. Beyond that, not a damned thing. That bitch hurt Dec. Wanted to kill Harry. So, yeah. Not a fucking damned thing.”
I get in the SUV, and I reach for Harry, but she shrinks back and stares out the window, silent. All the way home.
At home, Harry stalks off. I go after her. My heart’s hurting, and it’s not for Shiv.
I get it. I should feel something… sadness, regret for the past, of choices made, what the fuck ever.
But I don’t.
I meant what I said and didn’t say to Cal.
“Harry?” I ask, handing her the bag with her computer in it.
She takes it and then collapses on the bed, a sob shuddering her shoulders. “I thought… I thought she’d killed you. Worse, I started to get… jealous, and she was crazy. Because she was, thinking you loved me.”
“She thought you loved me right back when we know you hate me.” Suddenly, I’m sick of this bullshit game we keep playing. I stalk over to the bed, pull the gun from the bag, and shove it into her hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Harry tries to let go, but I don’t let her.
“Giving you the gun.”
She points it at the ground. But her eyes blaze as she looks at me. “You bastard, you fucking… asshole. I thought you were dead.”
“You took off.” And she did. I cling to it, glad for the clean anger.
