Page 135 of He Should Be Mine
“He. Is. Mine.”
They are more growls than words. Feral and vicious. But Riccardo understands me. His eyes look away from the gun to meet my gaze. I let him see everything. He goes deathly white. Sweat beads his brow. Terror swirls in his eyes.
Then I pull the trigger.
Riccardo’s brains and blood go everywhere. A bloom of red.
I have never seen a more satisfying sight.
Chapter thirty-seven
Molly
“Just breathe, Molly.”
Dario’s deep voice is rumbling through me, but he isn’t making any sense. Iambreathing. Fast and hard. My lungs are heaving and aching from the effort. My throat is burning from all the air dragging over it.
“Slow breaths, Molly. Copy me.”
But I can’t really see him. Darkness is creeping in from the corners of my vision. I can’t focus.
My ears are ringing from the loudest bang I have ever heard. I swear it was loud enough to change the air pressure.
“Molly, look at me.”
My body decides to obey him. Dario’s whiskey-colored eyes swim into focus.
Kind eyes. Concerned eyes. Eyes of a man who just murdered Rick right in front of me.
An awful whimpering noise bubbles out of me.
Dario thrusts Pooh Bear towards me. I blink at the sight of my stuffed toy. When did he go and get Pooh Bear?
I blink again. Did Dario run to my room while I’ve been standing here having a breakdown? Did this big stronggangster lie on the floor in his Armani suit, and rummage under my bed for my teddy bear?
Was that the first thing he did after committing murder?
I snatch Pooh Bear from Dario’s hands and hold him close to my chest. His warm squishy presence eases the tightness of my lungs. I can breathe a little easier now.
My gaze drifts over Dario’s shoulder, drawn helplessly like a magnet. Dario steps to the side, blocking the view.
“Don’t look.”
His crisp white shirt is undone all the way to his waist. It is falling open in a V. Revealing his lovely chest. It’s a wonderful view, but I’m not distracted or fooled.
I can see the blood splattered all over his shirt. Blood and other… lumpier things.
My lungs stutter. A horrible wheezing noise rattles out of me.
“Breathe, Molly. Breathe.”
Warm hands rest on my shoulders. Familiar hands. Hands that have held me. Caressed me. Made love to me.
Dario’s hands.
This is Dario in front of me, not some unknownmurderer.
I take a long, deep, shuddering breath.
