And, I had to admit, without Carrera alive and on my side, there was no possibility in protecting Leighton on my own. I needed Manuel Muñoz dead, and for my sister, I’d die trying. I’d be damned if Leighton would pay the price for my choices.
Removing Mateo’s arm from my shoulder, I steadied him on his feet. “Worry about yourself, lieutenant. I’ve got this.” Plastering a noncommittal smile on my lips, I stalked past him, invisibility the least of my worries as we stood in the middle of a cross fire. I should’ve felt exposed and afraid for my life. Instead, I vibrated with a deep-seated need for a control I’d lacked for months.
I’d barely taken three steps when a crack broke through the air as loud as thunder and with the raw power of a storm. It reverberated in my ears, ringing out in an echo and shattering the window in front of me as if on auto delay. As a second shot ripped the wood paneling off the house two feet from where I stood, I gripped the gun in my damp palm, turning to either take a lucky shot or face my executioner when a blast exploded beside me.
Holy shit.
Reaching down, I ran my hand down my shirt, searching for a gaping wound, or at the very least, splotches of blood that signaled my impending demise. As my fingers scanned the rough fabric of my shirt, I swallowed as all they encountered was shaking panic and sweat. Before I could rationalize what had happened, or thank God for the fact I was still alive, a third shot rang out, pulling attention toward the man twenty-five feet in front of me whose chest had erupted in a cloud of red. As blood poured from both corners of his mouth, his knees buckled, and he dropped face first to the ground.
Mateo lowered his smoking gun and turned back to face me. “You okay?”
“What the hell just happened?”
“You were showing me how much you’ve got this,” he mocked, displaying a wide grin.
“You know what,” I argued, throwing my arms wide, “that’s unnecessary. You think you could show a little gratitude for dragging your ass—”
“My ass?” he interrupted. “I just saved your—”
A fourth gunshot cut him off mid-sentence, but this one came from inside the house. Neither of us spoke another word as silence surrounded the blast. Not a sound or a scream followed the fire, and I didn’t have to look at Mateo to know we had the same concern.
Someone was dead.
Everything inside screamed at me to call out Eden’s name, to have her answer me and know it hadn’t been her on the receiving end of the bullet. I needed to know she was all right. However, survivalist instinct kept my mouth shut and turned my chin back toward Mateo. The look on his face told me he’d fought the same urge to call out to the man he’d sworn his life to protect.
I was a lawyer. I’d trained my whole life to be pragmatic and weigh both sides of an argument, choosing the best form of attack before going in for the guaranteed kill. But in the silence, practicality gave way to urgency as we both broke into a reckless run toward the back door.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Eden
I screamed his name before Manuel ever pulled the trigger. I counted the rhythm of his words and I knew where the rhyme would end. In a split second, I calculated the amount of time it’d take Val to reach for his ankle holster versus the short distance it took for Manuel to straighten his arm and release a bullet.
He didn’t stand a chance.
In horror, I watched as Manuel shot Val in the stomach. Angry lines of red erupted below his ribcage and spread up his chest, soaking his shirt. He mumbled my name before he hit the floor, his hand instinctively covering his wound.
My body shivered, and almost as if I exited it, I looked down on the scene. While observing it from above, the dingy basement morphed into the chrome kitchen at Caliente. In one blink, Val’s thick dark hair suddenly lightened, and one unruly piece flopped into his eyes.
I’d come full circle. For the second time, I watched my life bleed out in front of me.
Unable to take the crushing weight of the scene anymore, everything converged, and the kitchen evaporated, leaving me alone in the basement with Manuel Muñoz and his guard. In a fit of desperation and rage, with nothing left to lose, I took advantage of his momentary slackened hold around my neck. Dipping my chin, I sank my teeth into his forearm and bit as hard as I could.
Letting out a primal howl, Manuel released his hold just enough for me to launch myself at him. With the surprise of my attack, and the sheer force of my will, I knocked him off balance and sent us both sprawling onto the floor. In the scuffle, he dropped the gun, the grip landing a few feet away. I scrambled off him and lunged for it.
“You fucking bitch!” Manuel clamped a tattooed hand around my ankle, and dragged me backward on my stomach toward his chest. “You’ll pay for that.”
Movement out of the corner of my eye commanded my attention, but I forced myself to focus on getting the gun. In seconds, blasts erupted, with shouting and erratic flashes of light. Kicking Manuel’s face, I howled through the pain and lunged again. Cursing, he jerked me backward, this time pulling me flush against him
“Time to be with your boyfriend.” Pulling a knife from his pocket with his free hand, he pressed a button, popping up a six-inch blade, the edge serrated for maximum damage.
I refused to go out like this. Not without a fight.
“You first.” Clenching my fist, I put everything I had behind it and landed the hardest punch I’d ever thrown against his nose. A cracking noise preceded a blood volcano spewing from both nostrils.
Before he could react, I threw myself off him and crawled to the gun, wrapping my fingers around it. Climbing to my knees, and shaking with adrenaline, I pointed it to his head. “It’s over, you bastard.”
Smiling through reddened teeth, he attempted to sit up. “You don’t have what it takes.”
“Wrong,” I answered, my voice cold and calm. “All it takes is a lack of humanity. You took that from me when you killed everyone that meant anything to me.” With an accuracy that would’ve made Val proud, I took my revenge on the man who broke my heart twice.
And then just to be sure, I shot him again.
“Eden…” Glancing up, I looked into Mateo’s eyes, his brows drawn in concern.
“You’ve been shot,” I blurted out, the reality of what I’d done starting to sink in. “Why are you standing if you’ve been shot?”
“Flesh wound,” he answered softly. “Give me the gun, Eden.”
Suddenly remembering where I was, I glanced around. “The other guard.”
“Dead.” Mateo assured me.
Val.
Dropping the gun, it clanged on the concrete as I crawled on my hands and knees across the room. Blood pooled all around him, and I slipped once, falling onto my side, the sticky warmth coating the length of my body. Pressing my palms into the puddles, I finally reached him, unsure of where to touch him first. He lay motionless, his eyes small slits that seemed transfixed across the room.
“Blood,” I whispered. “There’s so much blood.” I did the only thing I could think of. I ripped his shirt open to find the source. Reality sobered every moment of the last few days as I cried out, covering him with my hands. A gaping hole to the right of his belly button continually pumped out fresh blood as it seeped between my fingers. “Mateo!” Screaming in sheer panic, I kept one hand on his stomach, while checking his face for signs of breathing with the other. “Mateo, I need you! It won’t stop bleeding. God, I need you, please!”