Page 97 of Married to the Devil

“Mother—“

I don’t even get to finish the curse. The bullet takes me right in the chest. It’s like an elephant charging. I grunt, falling to a knee.

Silas throws his to-go coffee cup at the masked shooter. It hits and the lid bursts off. The shooter screams, stumbling, and fires wildly. Nearby people are shouting now, freaking out, but I can barely keep it together.

My brother leaps on the attacker, a knife in his hand, a three-inch blade. Hardly more than a pocket protector. But he jabs it into him with precision. Neck, chest, groin, slicing arteries. Blood flows in thick rivers.

“Rafe!” He rushes to my side and grabs my arm. “Fuck, are you hit?”

“The bastard—got my—“ I take a deep breath and rip open my shirt to show my vest. “God, that fucking hurts.”

“Thank Christ you’re still a paranoid bastard.” Silas helps me to my feet. Getting shot in ceramic isn’t deadly, but it sure as fuck still hurts. “Come on, we have to go.”

“Who? I need to know who.”

“Hired hand. I don’t recognize him.” Silas kicks the body. The mask was shoved up. It’s a white guy, young, long nose. A face I’ve never seen before. “Come on, damn it. You get in the car. I’ll call Theodora.”

“It’s always the lawyers,” I say wearily, stumbling down the block. “I swear they’re worse than the murderers.”

June holds an icepack against my chest. “How many more times?” she asks quietly. “Seriously, Rafe, how many more times are you going to come home like this?”

“Three. Maybe four.”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

“I know, baby.” I twist to look at her. We’re in our room sitting on the edge of the bed. My clothes are on the floor. She’s in workout gear and Hattie is with Priya. “Will you believe me if I said it’ll be okay?”

“You almost died, so no.”

“Silas liked your idea. Which means this will all be over soon.”

“You’re not going to distract me.”

I tug her close and kiss her. “This is the deal we make. I put myself in danger so that others don’t have to.”

“They’re trying to kill you over this stupid merger. Can’t you let it go?”

“No, baby. If it’s worth shooting me for, it’s worth following through.” I gently disentangle myself from her and get clean clothes.

“You should be resting.”

“Come with me.”

“Rafe—“

“Humor me. When I’m done, we’ll sit out back and you can admonish me all you want.”

She tosses the icepack aside. “Fine. Let it swell. I don’t even care.”

“There you go, that’s my girl.” I take her arm and lean into her as we walk back through the house.

A clarity hits me. It’s strange, almost dying. So much of our time is spent worrying about possible futures, possible failures, but when the ultimate end is staring right at you, the important stuff shines through.

Like Hattie. And June.

They’re all I could think of when that bullet hit me.

I lead June out back and into the garden. She protests a few times but I keep going toward the trees where some more wild bushes are growing. I stop at one of them, reaching out to lightly touch a thorn.