Page 79 of The Burnt Heart

35

Jesse

Ididn’t pay attention to Harold, too focused on trying to help Adelaide’s father. The press of my hands against his chest was ineffectual, especially as it rose less and less.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered over him, the graying of his skin set fire to any hope I had. Antoni sucked in a wet breath, his fingers twitching. Then his eyes fluttered open momentarily, filled with pain and anguish.

“I-I’m sorry,” his voice stuttered out, stealing the last of his energy. Wetness coated my cheeks, my throat thick with emotion. For the stark horror of this moment, and the devastation I knew would tear Adelaide apart.

“Don’t speak,” Logan whispered. “Everything will be alright.”

Lies. All lies, but we couldn’t help ourselves. Alessandro had hit Antoni in his chest and there would be no recovering. Still,we tried, grunting as we pressed on his wound. My hands and sleeves were soaked red. Logan’s face twisted as he pressed against Antoni’s chest. The touch disturbing him, even in the face of death. He pushed through the agony of it, knowing as I did, it would be fleeting.

There was no saving him.

“I should have—” He gurgled, searching over our faces. “Given my blessing. Take care of her. She nee—” His mouth went slack around the plea, but I knew what he was going to say.

She needs you.

Logan’s low curse echoed in the room as his chin drifted down to press against his chest. A roar filled my ears, blocking out the words spoken next. The husk of his body was disturbing in a way I had never experienced before.

“Now that’s a real shame.” Harold lifted a wine glass in a mocking salute. “A true adversary, although he got soft in his old age. That’s what happens when you let a woman run things. But don’t you look good with some blood on you?” His eyes twinkled with the twisted compliment.

“Fuck you,” I snarled.

“That’s more my heirs’ style.” He shrugged, chuckling low at a joke I didn’t quite grasp. If my hands hadn’t still been hot with my father-in-law’s blood, it might have given me pause. “Now let’s get out of here. You can be leverage until I find out if there is a pregnancy to celebrate.”

Harold held a gun with practiced ease at our backs. The stare of the barrel on the pistol was heavy, now that I knew firsthand what damage it could do. Every time I’d shot at a target before, it had been like a video game, detached from reality. But the tang of blood thickened the air in the room, leaving no escape for the truth. I wiped the sticky blood on my pants, needing it off.

“I could have turned you both into something brutal,” Harold continued as he urged us down the hallway. One artwork wasaskew on the wall, a black mark down the white paint. The Donatos had left their mark on this house in more ways than one. Briar’s reaction to Alessandro unsettled me. They knew each other from somewhere and his face was vaguely familiar. The shape of it niggled in the back of my mind.

“Adelaide is going to slaughter you,” Logan said. His lack of inflection made Harold spin around with a curl to his upper lip. There was desperation to his flaring nostrils, the slight shake of his arm as he lifted it.

“Why couldn’t you have done what I wanted? This could have been so easy.” I contemplated the older man, but we were no match for a bullet.

“Sorry, we didn’t make it easier to kill our girl.” I couldn’t help but snap. We spilled out into the lounge room. Their gas fireplace flickered with contented flames, inviting relaxation. Except for the slumped body that was pressed too close to the heat. Singed cotton smell invaded the room, noxious enough to tickle my nose. Harold toed the body with a grumble, uncaring that one of his men had been killed.

“She’ll be dead any way once I get a baby out of her.”

The knowledge that there wouldn’t be a baby was like thorns digging into my skin. I winced at the harsh pull, the sting. My stomach cramped at the thought of what Alessandro was doing to Adelaide right now.

“All this stress won’t be good for the baby.” Logan tried a different tactic. But there was no reasoning with a maniac. His wrinkled face creased with mirth. The false flames in the heater flickered, unperturbed by the monster in their midst.

“You’d be surprised by what a pregnant woman can endure. Besides, you’ll play along, or she’ll get hurt. And she’ll behave or you’ll both get hurt. See how that works?” He drawled, slow and bitter as caramelized molasses. Ray’s cousin, Peter, skidded into the room, the lines on his face deeper without thesmug expression he wore earlier. His hair flopped to the side, revealing a thinned spot.

“Well?” Harold barked, waving his hand impatiently. Peter flicked us a suspicious look.

“Ray—uh—slipped out before we could apprehend him. We’ve suffered losses, but I haven’t seen any of their men yet.” He cleared his throat, wincing as Harold growled.

“My son is useless. Why is it so hard to find him? And she wouldn’t have bought more than the one guard. It can’t be hard to find the big bastard.”

The fabric of air in the room shuddered before I heard the slight pop. Peter’s mouth dropped open as he fell, slack jawed, onto the ground. A shiver electrocuted my spine as the light drained from his eyes. Surprise, pain and... nothing. Bile bubbled at the base of my throat.

“Looking for me?” Jonah swiped his arm over his jaw, smearing the darkened blood that coated the left side of his face. One side of his head had a clotted wound. But it didn’t hinder him. Jonah’s teeth flashed like a wolf. He was normally stoic, but there was blood lust painted on him now, hungry.

“What is it with you and not staying dead?” Harold moved behind Logan and me, and my skull prickled. A quick look confirmed the gun he had pointed at us. He didn’t even seem shaken by the loss of Peter. Logan choked softly. Harold lifted his shoulder, smirking. “You’re going to throw your gun toward me and move out of the way.”

Jonah pinned me with a murky look, molten with intent. He held the gun up, nestled in his hand as he surrendered. He flicked the safety on and tossed it so close to me it almost grazed my feet. For a moment, my heart stopped. My existence narrowed to the roar of my pulse, a hurricane in my ears. My knees buckled and fingers scrambled around the gun until I had it pointed at Harold. Just as Logan slammed into the sideof Harold, gagging at the sensation of his touch. Harold’s smug grip on his weapon loosened, and Logan kicked the gun away. Death was hard, hot metal. It thrummed up the veins in my arms, baying for release.

---