Chapter 34 #2
When Antonella tightened her hold around Juanito’s throat, screaming like a lunatic, I broke out of my mental prison with a yell of my own.
I snagged Antonella’s wrist, pulled her toward me, and used the momentum to slam the heel of my palm at her nose.
The satisfying crunch of bone and her hot, wet blood erupted as she dropped to the ground, wailing.
But I didn’t stop there.
Straddling her, I grabbed her by the hair, slamming her head into the ground, once, twice, again. She would not harm him. I’d die before I let her touch him again. I’d—
“That’s enough.”
Warm arms wrapped around me and pulled me back, but the screaming hadn’t stopped, and I surged forward. Antonella was still conscious, she could still hurt us. And those gunshots, who—?
“Valeria. Val, baby, it’s okay. Stop screaming. You’re done here.”
Oh. My throat was raw from my cries, a thick sob ripping out of me as I collapsed into Nolan’s arms. The world filtered in through my tears, pixel by pixel.
Antonella, bleeding from her head, eyes shut—
“Oh god,” I said, unable to tear my gaze from the scene. “Did I—is she—?”
“Out cold. She’ll live.”
Oh thank god. I hated Antonella with every cell in my body, but having her murder on my hands—even in defense of Juanito—would be too much.
Before I could think more about almost committing matricide, a tiny bundle bowled into me from the side.
“Val!” Juanito’s arms went around my neck and he buried his face in my hair. “I’m so glad to see you. I was so scared.”
“I know,” I said, clutching him to me. “You’re safe now.”
Behind Juanito’s back, I met Nolan’s eyes, and I saw the same sentiment reflected there.
I’m safe now.
Then I remembered the gunshots.
“Diego?” I asked, looking for him in a panic.
“Here, mana.” Diego kneeled atop a spluttering Hal. A trio of scars raked across Diego’s cheek and eyebrow deep enough to scar, a hellish purple bruise already forming along his jawline from Antonella’s kick. I must have looked horrified, because he said, “I’m fine. Just a scratch.”
At that moment, the bikers filtered into the room.
“Heard the gunshots. Thought you might need these,” the lead biker said, tossing a pair of zip ties to Nolan and Diego. The big man eyed my brother as he took to securing Hal and a now barely conscious Antonella. “You seem to know your way around a situation like this.”
Diego gave an unaffected shrug as blood dripped down his face. “I’m good under pressure.”
The man grunted. “Could use someone like you. The pay’s good.”
“MC life isn’t for me.”
Slipping him a business card, the man said, “Give me a call if you change your mind. Cops’ll be here soon.”
On their way out, each of the bikers gave Juanito a fist bump. Which reminded me. “Shit! Juanito, your meds.” I pulled the pills out of my pocket and got him a glass of water from the bathroom.
“Thanks,” he said and swallowed them down, completely unaware of how close he’d been to getting very, very sick.
His skin was already more translucent than it should have been and a thin sheen of sweat plastered his hair to his skull.
Diego cast me a concerned look, but I shook my head.
I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Juanito and scare him, but I thought he would pull through.
Then Nolan’s lips were at my ear, saying what I’d been thinking. “We should take him to get checked out, just in case.”
I clutched onto his shirt and looked up at him, full of gratitude. “Thank—” My hand came away wet and red. Blood poured from a hole in his shoulder, running in a red trickle down his arm. “You’re bleeding!” How the fuck did I not notice that? Is this what shock feels like?
Nolan barely glanced at it as the sound of sirens approached, blue and red lights flashing in the parking lot. “I’m fine,” he said, pulling me into his side and pressing a kiss to my temple.
“You’re not fine, you’ve been shot.”
“Semantics.” When he grinned, I knew he’d be okay. But I was still dragging his ass to the hospital whether he liked it or not.
I finally took a deep, shaky breath. It’s over.
We don’t have to worry anymore. After years of chronic stress, living a life outside of fight-or-flight mode sounded like a freaking vacation.
I just hoped I was capable of healing my nervous system and unlearning my habits.
Responsible Val deserved a rest, and I wanted to be more focused on the here and now rather than planning for the worst all the time.
Looking at Diego, I hoped he could do the same.
I wrapped an arm around Nolan’s waist, fitting myself into his side.
Because my here and now is pretty great, all things considered.
“Sheriff,” Nolan said in greeting to the mustachioed man entering the room, who surveyed the scene with a skeptical eye. “I trust you can handle this from here?”
The deputy cuffed both Hal and Antonella while the sheriff stroked his mustache. “We’ll need to take your statements.”
“Can it wait until I’m not bleeding from a gunshot wound?” Nolan asked, deadpan, but his eyes shone bright with pain.
“Of course. Tomorrow morning is fine. Do you need an ambulance?”
“Unnecessary. I’ll take myself.” With a scathing look at Antonella and Hal, Nolan said, “And I’m making it my personal mission to assure that you two never see the outside of a jail cell again.”
The sheriff cleared his throat awkwardly, but Nolan paid him no mind. With his kind of money and lawyers, I was sure he could make good on his promise.
“I’ll stick around, Sheriff,” said Diego. “I’ve got a hell of a statement to give ya. Val, I’ll meet up with you later.” Before we left, he pulled Juanito into a hug and promised to see him soon.
I ushered us across the parking lot to the Jag, Nolan sagging into my side. Juanito’s slight body quivered against mine as I muttered reassurances and helped him into the back seat. When Nolan moved to open the driver’s side door, I wedged myself in front of him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Driving to the hospital?”
“Nolan, you’ve been shot. I don’t think you understand how shock works. Give it.” I felt shaky myself, but at least I wasn’t actively leaking blood everywhere.
Nolan mumbled but handed over the keys. When we arrived at the emergency room, I barely uttered the words “gunshot wound” before Nolan was rushed off to a room, Juanito and I following shortly after.
As I came down from my adrenaline high, I felt drained and ready to break.
One glance at the traumatized look on Juanito’s face was almost enough to launch me into hysterics.
While the doctor did Juanito’s check-up, I sat in the corner and wrung my hands, more worried about the psychological wounds rather than any physical damage.
Poor kid is going to need loads of therapy after this one. Thanks, Antonella, you righteous hag.
Once the doctor gave Juanito the all-clear, I took him to the cafeteria for some ice cream. He ate in silence, big brown eyes solely focused on his task. I called Diego to let him know Juanito was okay and we’d be by to pick him up at the police station soon.
An hour later, Nolan walked out of the emergency room with his right arm in a sling.
He looked weary and drained, a mirror of how I felt.
But his face lit when he saw me, and he pulled me into his chest, burying his face in my hair.
As soon as his arm went around me, I felt the dam holding my freak-out at bay about to burst, but I kept it together for Juanito.
“You’re okay?” I asked, tracing Nolan’s jaw to reassure myself that he was actually here and alive and safe.
“No major damage. It was a through and through, so they stitched me up, offered me a bucket of prescription opioids that I heartily refused, and sent me on my way.” His eyes focused behind me and softened. “Hey, Juanito. Still hungry? You want to get cheeseburgers?”
A shy smile spread across Juanito’s face and he nodded.
Ten minutes later, I sped through a nearby drive-through and after picking up Diego, drove us to a hotel much nicer than the roadside garbage dump Antonella and Hal had been staying at.
Nolan insisted on paying for the food, the rooms, and the hospital bills even after everything he’d done for us.
I let him, because he looked like a grizzly bear ready to bite my head off when Diego and I had pulled out our credit cards.
Once we said goodnight to Juanito and Diego in the room next to ours, Nolan and I retired to our own room. After a quick shower, we fell into bed, exhausted. But I wasn’t so exhausted that I was unaware of the fact that this was the first time we’d been alone together in over a month.
From the way Nolan scooped me into his chest and fastened his good hand to the back of my neck, he was very aware of that fact too. “How are you?” he asked.
“You got shot and you’re asking me how I am?” I chuckled but snuggled closer. I could have lost the three most important guys in my life today. But as the silent seconds passed between us, my arms tightened involuntarily around Nolan as another dark thought made itself known.
“I almost killed my mom.” I nearly choked on the words. “I would have, if you hadn’t stopped me.” My voice sounded distant. Lifeless, as I stared into the chasm yawning within me. I would have killed her.
“It was brave, facing Antonella like that,” Nolan said, his eyes searching my face as if he could see through the thin cracks in my controlled facade, straight into my aching, bleeding heart. “You did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”
A sigh rattled out of me as I looked up into those azure eyes, a feeling of comfort washing over me. His words stitched up the gaping wound that had serrated my heart at seeing Antonella’s body on that motel room floor, knowing I’d been the one to put her there.
I did the right thing. I am not like her.