by Sienna Blake
It wasn’t over until it was over. “I have an idea, but it might get bloody.”
Something passed between us. I saw the deep love he had for Roman mirrored on his face. And I knew that we were both prepared to die for him.
Mercutio nodded.
I grabbed my car keys. “Let’s go.”
9
____________
Espinoza
Something rang out in Espinoza’s car, a soft musical tone. He frowned as he accelerated through a green light. That was not his ringtone. It wasn’t his phone ringing.
It sounded like it was coming from his passenger seat. Espo wondered for the moment whether he should stop the car and find it.
He could do it when he got to Desiree’s apartment. He didn’t want to keep her waiting. She’d sent a rather racy detailed message of what she wanted to do to him. The ringing had stopped anyway, silence filling up the car.
Too silent.
For a second the dull hollowness in his chest had a chance to step out into the fore. Desiree was beautiful, but she wasn’t really someone he could talk to. Not like Lacey. Smart, funny Lacey, who was so easy to make blush. Smart, funny Lacey, who would run if she knew the past he kept buried.
The phone started ringing again, cutting through his thoughts. He frowned. Whoever dropped their phone in his car must be desperate to get it back. Espo sighed and pulled over to the side of the road. What was the bet this was some girl’s phone she’d deliberately “dropped” in his car to make sure he called her again? It wasn’t the first time one of them had done something like that.
You’re such a cynic, Espo.
He got out of his car and walked around to the passenger’s side. It had begun to ring again when he grasped the slim phone that had fallen down the side of the seat.
It was Julianna’s phone. There was the small chip along the back where she dropped it that time at a crime scene, almost hitting the corpse on the head. She must have dropped it again tonight when he was taking her home.
He turned the screen over and was surprised to see the caller was “Dad”.
The chief.
Espinoza hit answer.
“Don’t you dare go after them yourself,” the familiar voice roared from the speaker.
“Chief?” Espo asked.
There was a pause. “Espinoza?”
“Julianna dropped her phone in my car.”
The chief swore. “Espinoza, you’ve got to stop her. I called her back on her home phone, but she didn’t answer.” The desperation in his voice tugged at Espo. He’d never heard the chief sound like this.
Espinoza’s blood turned to ice as he listened to what Julianna was about to do. Throwing herself in between the Tyrells and the Veronesis! He knew something had been off with her for the last few months. He should have listened to his gut. He should have gone with her to her apartment for dinner from Ming’s. Now she was acting crazy. Practically suicidal.
He had promised to look out for Capi when they had first been partnered, but he didn’t count on how much he’d grow to like her. She’d practically become like a little sister to him. It wasn’t about his duty anymore. If anything happened to her…
“I’m on my way.” Espo sprinted to the driver’s seat and slammed his foot on the accelerator before his door was even closed. “I won’t let anything happen to her, I swear.”
10
____________
Roman
The present…
They say your life flashes before your eyes during those cold, stark moments just before death. Instead of my life, I saw the faces of those who had been cursed to love me. Proof that the money you wasted or hoarded, the women you fucked, the parties that had you drinking and dancing until dawn meant nothing, reduced to ghosts and ashes before life’s ultimate humbler. I had convinced myself I needed no one. How funny that at the end of it, the ones you have are all that matters.
Bullets chiseled the flimsy crates that I hid behind into splinters. The faces of those who had imprinted onto my soul haunted me like the ghost I would soon become. How clear things were now. I saw every lost chance for me to tell them what they meant to me, shining like fallen gems. I saw how I had pushed them away instead of pulling them closer. Stupid, Roman. If only you hadn’t wasted your time on Earth.
I shot out wildly over the side of the crates. A barrage of bullets was immediately returned. With my back against the crate, my hope running out, I sent out the last messages I wished I’d been able to deliver in person, hoping that somehow my silent thoughts reached them.
My mother. I’m sorry I wasn’t a braver son.
Nonna and Mercutio. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you these last eight years.
And…Julianna. My perfect Julianna, her honey-hair and angel’s soul shining brightly in my mind. My heart twisted with regret most for her.
I’m sorry I hurt you.
I’m sorry I lied.
I’m sorry I couldn’t deserve you.
I’d spent my entire lifetime running away from the people that mattered because I had been afraid to lose them. I would lose them anyway. I almost laughed out loud. Hindsight can be cruel in her clarity.
But no matter. I wouldn’t feel a thing soon. Even my regret would soon be dust and ash.
I fired another shot and crouched back behind the crates. Shit. I was running out of bullets. Only half a dozen left in my last clip. I wasn’t going to hold them off for much longer.
“Police,” a loud female voice commanded from behind me. “Nobody move.”
Bullets start shooting towards this newcomer. I heard a curse from behind me. Then a return fire. For a few terse seconds the lady cop and I fired together at the Veronesis. I almost felt like we were on the same side.
Now that I had backup, I could get off a few more accurate shots. I heard a cry and knew I had managed to hit one of them.
Someone must have called the cops. Or more likely, an unlucky beat cop was patrolling the area and heard the gunfire. You should have called for backup, sweetheart. We’re both dead now.
Headlights suddenly flooded the alleyway from behind Dante. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the ghostly light. A police siren began to wail, the flicker of red and blue lights reflecting off the glass windows. Someone had called the cops. The police car accelerated straight through the alleyway with a squeal of tires.
Dante and his men scattered, running like rats from the sudden attack, just a blur of silhouettes to my eyes. They darted into dark hidden doorways in the abandoned buildings around us.
The car kept gunning forward towards me. Shit! I sprinted aside to the closest doorway in the wall of the alley. The damn thing was locked. Even as I kicked the metal enclosure, it would not yield. I was going to be hit. There wasn’t enough room.
An awful skidding noise tore through my ears as the car braked to a halt, meters from me. The mist swirled up around the headlights. The sirens cut off, the red and blue lights still flickering. The silence was deafening. The driver did not move to get out.
“Hands up where I can see them, Roman,” the lady cop yelled from behind me.
My heart gave out a kick. That voice. The way she spoke my name.
I turned slowly, my breath held in anticipation, my hands in the air. It couldn’t be Julianna. It was just my mind thinking she sounded like Jules, a byproduct of my desire to see her. You’ll see, idiot. You’ll have been busted by a beat cop who looks nothing like Jules.
I squinted through the dark at the lithe figure pointing a gun at me. Julianna Capulet. My stomach turned to lead.
She strode towards me. Despite the figures I knew must be hiding in the darkness, watching from their safe hiding places, I felt like she and I were alone.
“Jules?”
“Shut up,” she hissed. She grabbed my arm and spun me, digging her gun into my back. She pulled my gun from my hand and I let her. But she didn’t cuff me. “Move.”
She steered me towards the car. I squinted as we
got closer to the harsh glare of the headlights. That must be Espinoza in the driver’s seat. Why wasn’t he getting out to help her? Where were the other police?
Julianna nudged me with her gun. “Get in the back.”
I stared around us. No other cops. No other cars. “Where are the other police?”
She cursed under her breath.
“Jesus Christ, Roman,” I heard a male voice mutter from the darkness, “do you ever just do what you’re told?” That voice, I knew that voice.
The figure stepped out of the driver’s seat. That wasn’t Espinoza. I squinted harder.
I blinked hard at him. “Merc? What are you doing here?”
“Saving your ungrateful ass.” Merc glanced around us nervously. “Now hurry up and get in the damn car.”
When had he started working for the police? Was he…undercover? Had he been hiding this from me all this time? But where are the other cops?
“What are you—?” I broke off when the realization slammed into me. Merc wasn’t working for the cops. This hadn’t been a police raid. Mercutio must have gone to Julianna, told her about the duel I had stupidly instigated and somehow convinced her to help him. They had concocted a plan to save me. She had stood in the line of fire for me. He had driven a car straight through the middle of the Veronesis for me.
My head spun. What if she had been hurt? Shot? Or killed because of me? What if the Veronesis had shot at Mercutio driving the car instead of fleeing? I would have never forgiven myself. I’d rather I’d died at Dante’s hand than have them risk their lives in such a reckless way.
I spun around towards Julianna, causing her to let go of my arm behind my back. I was so angry I wanted to smash my fist into a wall. She had risked her life saving mine. Why? Why would she come here?
“I never asked for your help,” I growled.
Her face fell but any guilt I might have felt was crushed under the tempest of my rage. They shot at her. Dante and his men fucking shot. At. Her.
They weren’t here for me to vent my murderous rage.
Mercutio. Mercutio had forced her to come. How? He must have blackmailed her. The idiot would do anything for me. Even taint his precious morals to save my unworthy ass.
“You,” I spun towards Mercutio, fists curled tightly, ready to take out my anger on him. “You brought her here.”
“Get in the car,” Julianna grabbed my arm, forcing my attention back to her. Her touch burned me right to my blackened soul. She slid her gun into her holster. “We can argue about this later.”
Later. Later would be the smart thing to do. But my anger was raging now. It needed a target. Like fast-flowing lava will cut a path down the side of the mountain, my rage would not be denied its path to hell.
I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. She could have died. She could have been hurt, drummed through me like a war chant. “Why did you come?”
Her face cracked. She didn’t think I wanted her here. She didn’t think I was happy to see her. She didn’t know that it had been her face I wanted to see more than anything when I thought I was going to die.
She recklessly put herself into danger for me. She wasn’t supposed to risk her life for me. I was supposed to do that for her. What use was I otherwise?
She pushed at my arms, trying to unlock my grasp, but my hands just tightened on her. I was vaguely aware that I was holding on to her just a little too tightly. “Why the fuck did you come here?” I repeated.
“What the fuck do you think you were doing challenging Dante Veronesi to a duel?” Something between a sob and a cry tore out of her. “You could have been killed. What would that do to Nonna, to Mercutio, to me?”
“You?”
“Yes, asshole.” Her voice broke as she beat my chest with her fists. “To me.”
To her.
She cared. Despite the hell I had put her through.
This was my second chance at life. My second chance to grab on to the things that mattered. I had run away from her just like I’d run from everyone else I’d ever loved. I would not make that same mistake again.
“Damn you.” I yanked her towards me, a little too hard. She stumbled and fell against my chest. Everywhere she touched me felt like it was on fire. “You were supposed to stay away from me.”
“I couldn’t just let you die.” Her fists still beat against me, although this time there was no real intent behind her attack except the hunger flaring in her eyes. She still wanted me, even after all I had done…
I dropped my face towards her mouth.
“Stop,” a voice boomed out, cutting through us. “Or I’ll shoot.”
11
____________
Julianna
Stop. Or I’ll shoot.
I would recognize that voice in my sleep. It washed over me like boiling water on icy glass, sending cracks right through me.
Espinoza.
He was standing at the far end of the alleyway where I had come from, legs in a wide stance, gun pointed.
I knew how we looked; Roman gripping me too tightly, leaning in too closely, me beating at his chest. It looked like Roman was hurting me. It looked like I was trying to make him let go of me. Espo didn’t know the truth that lay beneath us. He only saw what was on the surface. He only saw what his prejudice would allow him to see.
Everything slowed down to a sticky crawl, like the world was suddenly drowning underwater. My heartbeat thudded, low and muffled in my ears.
Several things happened at once. Espinoza cocked his gun, the black evil eye of it focused on Roman.
“No, wait!” I screamed as Roman shoved me behind him, trying to shield me with his body. His movements were too fast. You don’t make fast movements in front of a cop with a gun.
Don’t shoot! But before I could get these words out, the boom of Espo’s gun was reverberating through the air in sticky waves, drowning out my scream.
Something collided with Roman’s body from the side. Mercutio. Mercutio had thrown himself at Roman. They were both going down. Down towards the dirty black earth.
12
____________
Roman
Espinoza pointed his gun at me. I could see hate contorting his face, his prejudice twisting my actions into something nefarious. He would never believe that I wasn’t standing here assaulting Julianna. I imagined him pulling the trigger only a split second before he did.
Bang!
I braced myself for pain. I was hit from the side as Mercutio slammed into me. I had almost forgotten he was there. We hit the ground like a fallen tree. For a split second I remained still, my body frozen with shock, waiting for a starburst of pain and the inevitable burning ache.
When I was sixteen, my father had bought me a Glock 19. He made me practice loading a full magazine over and over again until I could do it in under ten seconds without a speed loader. When I succeeded, my father took the Glock from me, a slight smile of pride on his face, and turned it over in his hands. Then he pointed it at me and shot me. The bullet had lodged in my shoulder.
It had been one of his lessons. He had wanted me to feel what it was like to be shot. He wanted me to learn to handle the burning pain, like someone had shoved a red-hot poker through my arm. He made me tie off a tourniquet myself, torn from my own bloody shirt. He glared at me every time water dared to leak from my eye. I’d passed out well before his off-the-books doctor approached me with a scalpel and a pair of tweezers.
In Dead Man’s Alley, I lay on the gritty ground, Mercutio’s weight on me. I felt none of this pain. My relief was shattered by a wet, sticky sensation on my chest and the tang of metal in the air. Blood. Not my blood.
No no no, my mind begged uselessly. I rolled my best friend off me and onto his back, everything else forgotten.
“Merc.” I hovered over him, ignoring the grit cutting into my knees. A sticky mess spread from his chest. This could not be happening. Mercutio refused to even hold a gun. What kind of God would let this happen?
�
�I think I got shot.” Merc coughed and redness spluttered from his lips. Shit. His lung had been punctured.
“No shit, Sherlock.” I pressed my hands over his chest. If I pressed hard enough, if I spread both my hands, if I fucking willed it hard enough, he would stop bleeding. He had to stop bleeding.
He looked down at his chest, at his lifeblood pouring out of him. “Man, it looks bad.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Don’t lie to me, it’s bad.” He coughed again, more blood bubbling up, and winced.
“Why did you come here, you son of a bitch?”
“Someone had to save…” he coughed again. More blood. He ignored my attempts to keep him quiet, to conserve his strength. “…save your ungrateful…” His eyes matted over as swift as a plague. There was no warning. One second he was here and the next…
“Merc?”
Another set of eyes flashed in my head, the rich, earthy irises now dead and black as burned grass. Mama? A strange cold numbness fell over me as I slapped Mercutio’s cheek, trying to wake him, my bloody hand leaving a smudged print just like a young boy’s finger painting. Wake up. Call me an ass. Yell at me. Tell me off, for fuck’s sake!
“Espo, stop!” Julianna screamed. She had launched herself between me and her partner, standing by me like a guard.
It hit me that the polished steel of Julianna’s gun was the same color as the matching sweaters that Nonna had once knitted for Mercutio and me. It had been the first Christmas I’d spent with them since my mother had died. He always got a new sweater. This was my first. Merc had scowled when Nonna had pushed it down over his head. I had pretended to make a fuss too, but I had worn that sweater every day until it smelled. Mercutio would never know that I still kept that stupid sweater, packed in a box in my mother’s apartment, now too small for me.