Chapter 19 Blind Rescue #2
Santino clenched his jaw, forcing his body to move downward instead of forward at Danilo’s words.
“You’re right, I am stalling. I keep hoping you’ll come to your senses and realize that blowing up the family like this will never win you the throne you crave.
” That was a lie, of course. He no longer gave a shit what Danilo did or did not understand.
He just needed that gun aimed literally anywhere else.
“I was the first heir,” Danilo said, as if the knowledge of him being older than Santino and also male was some kind of revelation.
“But then Nonno’s favorite had to go and give him a boy.
And everything that was supposed to be mine was ripped away.
” He took a step closer and finally swung the Glock forward, arm slightly raised and index finger tapping a rhythm to his words. “Just.” Tap. “Like.” Tap. “That.” Tap.
Danilo stretched out his arm, bringing it down as if in slow-motion.
Santino launched upward.
Danilo’s arm cracked against Santino’s shoulder, the gun exploded at his ear, and he was blissfully—if only temporarily—deaf to the next round of vile stupidity that spewed from Danilo’s lips.
Santino swiftly twisted his own arm up and over Danilo’s, locking Danilo’s position before his cousin could move to threaten Reiko again.
The choice threw them into a stumbling, cursing wrestling match over the gun Danilo refused to drop.
Instead, Danilo attempted to use his other fist to land hard blows on Santino’s body, aiming mostly for Santino’s head.
But he’d never been the fighter Santino was.
Santino had the advantage in hand-to-hand and they both knew it.
He was bigger, he was scrappier, and he spent more time actually honing his skill, whereas Danilo preferred weapons.
Which meant Danilo had stepped proverbially into Santino’s domain by shifting the focus of his exertion, and that was a mistake he wouldn’t be able to walk back.
Santino allowed Danilo a calculated movement that pulled Danilo’s momentum too far from center, and in the next heartbeat he pivoted, knocking Danilo’s feet fully from under him at the same time that he twisted Danilo’s gun arm too sharply the wrong way.
All while making sure the weapon remained aimed entirely toward the heart of the basement.
The absolute last thing he intended to do was allow that or any other gun to endanger Reiko again.
Danilo let out a choked cry of pain, visibly gritting his teeth as his nostrils flared and he attempted to wrench himself free. He finally thought to reach for his knife.
Santino released the broken arm in favor of delivering a solid punch to his cousin’s face, hard enough to throw Danilo backward.
Danilo’s knife skidded toward the tarp and the Glock slipped free in the opposite direction.
Santino took a moment to kick the Glock toward the rest of the guns, then lowered a foot onto Danilo’s broken arm and let it take his weight as he bent down and curled his fingers around his cousin’s throat.
Danilo immediately tried to gasp, tried to fight, but he’d already lost his advantage. He’d lost it the moment he’d pulled his gun from his hostage.
Santino glared into Danilo’s eyes. “I would have taken a bullet for a you,” he said, spitting the words.
“And when I suggested to Nonno that you might have betrayed us, that you might be working against us to turn our own established men, he refused to believe me. The same Nonno you were just badmouthing still believes in you, even now, because he’s not here to see how low you’ve fucking fallen. ”
Danilo punched with his free arm at Santino’s shoulder.
A cold smile split Santino’s face and he squeezed tighter.
“You’ve gotten weaker, cousin. I didn’t even feel that one.
” He let his head tilt. “How about I show you how it’s done?
You let me know if you feel it, hm?” He released Danilo’s throat, letting his cousin drop to the hard floor, and rolled his neck.
The sound cracked through the room to a backdrop of Danilo’s hard gasps. Open-mouthed lungfuls of air that Reiko continued to be denied, and could not safely be allowed while the situation remained ongoing.
Anger bubbling anew, Santino curled his fingers into fists and let them fly. One punch, then two, then three and four—Danilo was limp by six. Blood smeared across Danilo’s face and Santino’s knuckles, but Danilo still drew breath. Though it was notably weaker, wheezier, than before.
Impatient and dissatisfied, Santino rose, stepped away from his disloyal cousin, and lifted the Glock.
The gun Danilo had aimed at Reiko. The gun Danilo had planned to use to end their conflict.
He moved over Danilo one more time, standing so he was straddling his weakly groaning cousin, and pointed the gun in the direction of the heart Danilo had obviously forsaken.
“For what it’s worth, cousin,” Santino said, though he was sure his words fell on deaf ears, “I never wanted it to come to this.”
He watched Danilo’s eyelids flutter for a moment, then pulled the trigger.
With Danilo dead, and no sign of the mystery female, Santino was free—finally—to turn his attention to Reiko’s proper rescue. He tucked away the gun, scooped up the knife, and dropped to his knees on the tarp.
She let out a near-soundless whimper.
“Shh, beautiful, it’s me,” he said, his voice coming out in a pathetic, choked whisper as the emotion from earlier rushed over him again.
He brushed his fingertips lightly over her upper shoulder, not wanting to add pressure when she had to be sore and cursing at how cold she was.
“I’m going to take this gag out, then cut your restraints, okay?
” He wanted to remove her blindfold, too, but he also didn’t want to traumatize her with a plethora of dead bodies and the carnage that came with them. “Just give me another minute.”
She made that whimpering sound again and his heart fucking broke.
He didn’t remember a time in his life when he’d truly known fear. Not before this night. But he’d learned it tonight, and he wouldn’t forget it as long as he lived.
The first thing she did when her gag was removed was suck in a desperate, in its own way choking, precious lungful of air. It burned down her throat and made her cough, which made her pains worse, but it was worth every nuance of discomfort.
The second thing she did was take in another, larger, stronger breath. That breath felt even better. Or maybe that was the gentle caress of Santino’s fingers over the side of her forearms, trying to caution her not to move while he pressed a knife near her wrists. She assumed.
The third thing she did was sob. It was uncontrollable.
She was still in pain, possibly worse than before, even, and she was so damn cold.
And she still had to pee. And she just wanted to curl up in Santino’s lap and never ever leave.
But even thinking about that movement hurt.
So, when he cut the bindings at her wrists away and her arms naturally fell apart, the immediate shift was agony.
It was such a small movement, but it was excruciating.
Santino pressed soft, feather light kisses across her skin, up her arm and over the side of her face.
She felt his tongue glide up her cheek, catching a wave of her tears.
But she noted he was careful not to force her to move her body before she was ready.
Instead, he rubbed his hand down her arm one more time—his touch a bit heavier—and shifted himself, until he was positioned over her feet.
All she could do was mentally brace herself for a repeat of the same pressure-relief-turned-pain as he sliced through whatever was around her ankles. She didn’t know how much her minimal wiggling efforts had even helped and she was afraid to try and move, despite how badly she wanted to.
Santino moved, the tarp crackling beneath him, and gave her legs a similar treatment of light-to-heavier rubdowns and warming kisses.
He kissed over her hip, his hands swept over her belly, then up and over her chest, and finally he was all but crushing her head between his palms as he kissed the crown of her head.
“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry,” he murmured into her hair.
“That doesn’t even cover it. I need you to know that, okay?
” He kissed her head again, let go, and fabric rustled.
She had about three seconds to let confusion filter in through the other, more physical, sensations. Then something soft and blessedly warm fell around her already curled form, covering practically shoulder to shin.
“It’s not perfect, and I know you’re freezing, but we’ll crank the heat up in the car as soon as we’re out of the building, I promise.
” He ran his hands over her again, rubbing this time from outside the fabric.
“I need to get you out of here, beautiful. Can I move you? Do you need to stretch first?”
The flicker of relief she’d felt bled into horror.
She wanted desperately to move. But she also did not.
Reiko licked at her dry lips and fought against her slowing tears. The tears weren’t helping her breathe, anyway. Santino’s here now. I can leave this place. She hadn’t exactly managed to do anything impressive, but she’d kept her sanity by some miracle. Or she thought she had.
A woman could only ask for so much.
“I”—her voice cracked at the first word, first syllable, and Santino was there, gently massaging her throat until she tried again—“I have to … pee.”
His hand stilled for a singular moment.
I swear, if he’s grinning, I will find the strength to strangle him no matter how much it hurts.
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, above the blindfold he hadn’t removed for her.
“Even if there were a bathroom in this place, it wouldn’t be clean enough for you.
So, we’re going to have to hit the road.
But I’ve got us a secret stow-away place for the night where no one will be looking, we’ll be fine.
Except this part, baby. This part’s gonna hurt. ”
Her brow furrowed, because she was lingering on what he could possibly mean by ‘secret stow-away place’ and not following his logic at all.
Not until he tucked an arm beneath her knees, then wedged another under her neck and reached for her shoulders.
Even that small amount of jostling hurt, and she sucked in a breath.
On reflex, she tried to bring her arms forward as Santino stood and her body rolled.
Pain—soreness, agitated muscles, relieved pressure—erupted through her all over again. Almost worse than when he’d cut her restraints. Her hands fell sloppily against what had to be his chest and she couldn’t hold in the scream.
His grip tightened and he tugged her close. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he said again. He almost sounded as if he were sharing the agony burning through her.
Somehow, that notion—as ludicrous as it was—helped her steady her breathing.
Reiko even managed to move a hand and fumble with the fabric, one of his coats, to keep it over her more or less.
Her head tipped into his shoulder and the smell of him cut through the building tang of other odors in the air.
“Why,” she managed to start as he moved, his every step jostling her in uncomfortable but necessary ways.
She cleared her throat. “Why did you … leave the blindfold?”
They started upstairs before he responded, his voice quiet. “You don’t need to see this.”
She remembered what she’d heard, and been left to imagine, of his fight with Danilo.
The exchange had been in English, so she’d understood their dialogue.
She knew Danilo had been using her to try and eliminate Santino, just as she’d feared.
And she knew Santino had fought back, though she suspected he hadn’t prioritized himself.
She was also educated and aware enough to understand what it had to mean that the fight had ended after the undeniable, nearby explosion of a single gunshot. And Santino was clearly not only still alive, but well enough to talk clearly and carry her around.
No. She was assuming the latter. Reiko frowned. “Santino…”
He hummed softly, his pace never slowing. They’d evened out, so she assumed they were in a hall or perhaps on the main floor.
“Are you … okay?” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Are you hurt?”
His grip tightened and his chest inflated with a hard breath.
“Nothing happened to me tonight,” he said, “that compares to what you went through. I’ll have a fun new scar to lie about, and a whole extra layer of trust issues.
We’ll both have nightmares. But my pain, my upset, doesn’t rank.
Not next to yours. And I won’t take that away from you, beautiful. ”
Her lips cracked a little, but they lifted in a small smile. “I just wanted to … make sure you didn’t get … shot or anything.” She pulled in another steady breath. “You’re so dramatic sometimes.”
If she didn’t know better, she might have thought she heard emotion choking his chuckle.