Page 83 of Vicious Hearts

I scream and fire. The bullet passes through the upper right of Oliver's chest and hits Ben's shoulder as he rises.

Oliver slumps to the ground with a groan.

I drop the gun and run to Ben, falling to my knees beside him. He's flat on his back, clutching his injury.

"I'm sorry!" I cry, my tears falling onto his chest. "Let me see, is it bad?"

He lets go of his shoulder and puts his bloody palm on my cheek. “It’s a graze,charodeyka. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." I cover his hand with mine. "How did you know where I was?"

"I didn't." He smiles. "But when the cops couldn't find Oliver, I figured it out. I was trying to convince myself I was wrong when I heard you scream."

I can't believe he's here. I was so sure I'd die without seeing him again.

"Roxy, listen," he says, kissing my palm. "I didn't mean all the bad shit I said. It was wrong. I knew it even then, but I was too much of a fucking coward to admit how I felt. Obsessionisn'tlove, but I went from one to the other without noticing it, and it scared the shit out of me." He looks into my eyes. "Will you forgive me for being a moron?"

I tilt my head at him. "Which time? Because you were a dick to me in Hawaii, rude as fuck when I came to your apartment, and just generally hard work. Youcausedproblems with GrahamandHillard—"

"Okay, I'm asking too much." Ben sits up, wincing.

"You gonna give me shit for shooting you?" I ask.

"Nah. We'll call it even."

Oliver is lying in a pool of blood, muttering between groans of pain.

"Hey," he says. "Hey, Roxanne. Come here."

Ben gets to his feet and takes the gun from my hand.

All he wants to do is kill the man who hurt me. That's been his goal from the start. But that was the possessive, wrathful part of him. The part that tried so hard to push me away.

I hope he still has some of that left forme. I fell in love withallof him—the bad as much as the good.

Oliver manages to raise his voice as Ben approaches him.

"You fucking stupid Russian prick. My father always said the Bratva was full of cretins."

Ben kneels and places the barrel of the gun against Oliver's eye.

"The Bratvakilledyour father," he says. "My best friend shot him. Your father was wrong, but I wonder—how smart do you think I need to be to end your pointless life right here?"

"Do it." Oliver's words trail off into a hacking cough, but he recovers enough to spit feebly at Ben. "Kill me. You don't know anything else. Criminals like you are the missing link. Civilization is just something that happened to other people, isn't it?"

"People like you?" Ben's hand shakes as he grips the gun. "You're fucking pathetic."

"So make me pay," Oliver snarls. He's laughing again. "Go on, do it."

"I won't kill you," he says, "because as much as Iwantto do it, that's whatyouwant, too. I promised Roxy you'd be athermercy, not mine. You want to die? Beg her."

Ben stands, keeping the gun trained on Oliver's face. He places his feet on Oliver's wrists, pinning him down.

"Come stand by me,charodeyka," he says. I stand at his side, congealing blood sticking to my shoes.

“I was a kid when I took two lives. One was blameless, one not so much.” He sighs. “There’s no taking that back. But this fucker isnotinnocent, and my conscience won’t give me a moment’s trouble.” He stares at Oliver, but he’s still speaking to me. "You’re a better person than me, Roxy. I won't ask you to do it yourself, but if you want this thing dead, say the word."

The man who hurt me is bleeding rivers under my feet. Just as Ben promised.

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