There are immediately two very large guns pointed at me by two very angry men. “I’m sorry,” I say, crying. “Please don’t hurt me.”
One of them leers at me. “You’ll be wishing you hadn’t done this in about an hour.”
I back up, almost tripping on Juliette’s body. “Giovanni Costas kidnapped me. I just want to go home.”
One of the men follows me into the truck, reaching for me.
That’s when Maria strikes, hitting him on the side of his knee in a way that sends him sprawling to the floor. I follow up with the pepper spray, making him howl and flail. I jump onto the bench to avoid being snatched by him and hop out of the van.
The last man has his gun trained on Maria. I aim for him, but we’re at a stalemate.
“Drop it,” he warns. “We don’t need this bitch. Just you.”
Shit. I know I don’t have a choice. I’ve seen those eyes before. He won’t hesitate to shoot her. I couldn’t have stood by and let her get hurt even before she was going to help me escape.
Reaching down, I slowly lower the gun to the floor.
“No,” Maria says, snapping out of her trance. “It’s not worth it. Shoot him.”
I set the gun on the ground and nudge it away with my foot. “And let you get hurt? I don’t think so.”
The man gives a cruel smile. “Javier only needs you, sweetheart. I was going to have some fun with this one. But now I think the two of you are too much trouble.”
My mind barely interprets his meaning before I see his finger twitch. Then I’m throwing myself onto Maria. A loud bang blasts through the air; pain blooms like crimson flowers as I land on the hard-packed dirt.
Tires squeal, and I wonder if the van is leaving. From the corner of my eye I see the black limo speed away, filling the air with dust. It floats across my vision like glitter.
More shots ring out.
I stare at the blue, blue sky above us and wonder if it’s always been that wide. Where is the sun? It seems bright out, but it feels incredibly cold. I’m shivering.
“Clara. Clara!” Giovanni’s face appears above mine.
His hands are all over me. Doesn’t he know I’m not in the mood? Men. Then something sharp pierces the cloud I’m floating on. Ouch. Don’t like that.
“Stay with me.” He sounds frantic. Panicked, really. It’s strange coming from him. He’s always so confident and composed. “Can you hear me?”
“Nice and easy.” It seems like the thing to say.
“Christ. She’s losing too much blood. Stay with me!”
Is he still talking to me? It’s not clear. Everything is pretty fuzzy, like I’m looking through a stained glass window. I hope my sister doesn’t take me seriously about naming her baby boy Clara. “I love you, by the way.”
Then I close my eyes and rest.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Kip likes the name Alfred. It was his grandfather’s name. I think it kind of sounds like a grandfather’s name, don’t you? I can’t imagine a baby face named Alfred. Like he’d need a tiny butler suit.”
My sister’s voice drifts over me, comforting as the artificial haze of whatever medication wears off. There’s a sharp pain in my shoulder that I don’t really want to think about right now, so instead I focus on what she’s saying.
“I’m thinking of Alessandro. What do you think? It’s pretty, right?”
Another thoughtful pause.
“Not as pretty as Clara, mind you. But I hope you weren’t serious about that, if it’s a boy. I suppose we could have gone with Claro, but that’s worse than Alfred.” Her words grow thick. “If it’s a girl we are definitely going to name her Clara. If she gets even half your strength, we’ll be glad.”
“Strength,” I manage to say, my voice rusty. “I remember you calling it stubbornness.”
She appears above me, her eyes shining with tears. “You’re awake.”
“Especially when I wanted to move out.”
“The world is a very scary place.”
“I’m not going to argue with you just now.”
She bites her lip, worry infusing her brown eyes. “How do you feel?”
“My shoulder hurts. Tell me I just landed on it wrong.”
“You probably did,” she says. “After you got shot.”
I groan. “I’m going to need harder drugs.”
I’m back in the bedroom—Giovanni’s bedroom, with the expansive vista of the Red Rock Canyon painted on one wall. My limbs are heavy, my eyelids somehow sore. Honor has pulled up one of the wooden chairs from the table to my bedside, a small basket bursting with pink and blue and pastel green yarn bundles at her feet.
“I’ll get the doctor. And I’ll tell Giovanni you’re awake.”
“Wait.” I grasp her arm with my good hand, the one that doesn’t feel like it’s weighted down by two tons of cement. “You’re okay with him?”
Her eyes flash. “I’m furious with him. But he did save your life. You know…after drugging you, kidnapping you, and forcing you to marry him.”