Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Luca
When we finish practice, I notice the barrage of texts on my phone coming from Harper.
“Ashton, did you get any messages?” I ask, wondering what the hell is going on, but already, my stomach is in knots.
Harper wouldn’t be sending me frantic texts unless something bad happened.
Harper: Get home now!
Harper: Luca, I need you.
Harper: Nova called her father.
Shit.
If it’s as bad as I suspect, texting and calling will leave behind evidence. I refrain from reaching out to Harper. I’ll be home soon. Five more minutes won’t make any difference.
“Yeah,” Ashton grumbles. We rush to get dressed from our practice attire. Thankfully, we already showered, or I’d be skipping it.
The three of us hurry out of the locker room and head back to the house.
There’s been zero communication from Dante or Moreno. But if Nova reached out to her old man, then it’s possible they’re now involved in whatever is happening at home.
Fear threatens my senses as I near the house, worried what I might find.
Lightning flashes overhead as the storm refuses to ease its severe hold over the town. The rain has slowed, but the wind is whipping around. Lightning illuminates the night sky. Thunder cracks overhead with a sharp bang.
There are no police cars.
No ambulances.
Minus the storm, everything is quiet.
Dark.
Except for the faint light glowing from inside the house behind the closed curtains, nothing looks out of the ordinary, but I feel it.
As we approach the house, Zeke’s screams reach the porch—he sounds inconsolable. I unlock the front door, but I don’t see anyone yet.
“Harper? What’s going on? Is everyone okay?” I’m afraid for my wife, my son, my sister—for all three of them.
Harper comes barreling toward me, her eyes glassy and red, her hands trembling, covered in blood.
I embrace her, glancing her over quickly, making sure she isn’t injured or bleeding.
“Are you okay? Whose blood is that?”
Nova is cradling my son, trying to offer him comfort, but it doesn’t seem to help.
They’re all alive.
I almost have time to breathe a sigh of relief, but the blood concerns me greatly.
“What the hell happened?”
Wordlessly, Harper nods. Her hands tremble, and I realize her entire body is shaking.
I try to inspect her as quickly as I can, looking for injuries. “The blood, Harper. Whose is it?” I try again, this time more agitated that she can’t focus.
She’s probably in shock from whatever transpired, but I don’t like being kept waiting or in the dark.
“His—” Harper gestures to the hallway behind her, and there’s a trail of blood seeping into the carpet.
I glance past her, take a side-step, and I can see the body, the man crumpled on the floor.
“He’s dead,” Nova says, confirming the question I haven’t yet asked.
“He broke into Zeke’s bedroom and was kidnapping my son. I had to stop him. It was self-defense.”
“Our son,” I correct her, pulling her against me. “How did you shoot him?”
“With a gun.”
I pull back, surprised. Did she really just answer with a smartass remark?
The look on her face tells me she’s disassociating. Her mind is far from her body, probably reliving the trauma over and over again.
My jaw clenches. I hate that I wasn’t there to protect her. My hands are on her cheeks as I try to get her to make eye contact with me.
“The weapon, Harper. What gun did you use?” I grind out.
“The one in the hall closet.”
Shit.
We had a gun in our bedroom closet, locked and stored securely, which was intended to be used in the event of a break-in or attack.
She wasn’t supposed to use the gun in the hall closet.
In fact, she wasn’t even supposed to know about it, but when she found it putting linens away, I didn’t want to worry her.
I made up the excuse that it was solely to be used for emergencies, because, quite frankly, that gun could land my ass in prison.
I made it abundantly clear it was not to be used at the shooting range.
The gun needed to disappear. Why the hell hadn’t Ashton gotten rid of the evidence?
It was his gun that I used to shoot and kill Massimo.
Wincing, I curse and glance her over. This evening just went from bad to worse. “Get showered and dressed. You need clean clothes. We need to burn all of the evidence.”
“Burn it?” Harper repeats, her brow pinched. “Why?” Slowly, she’s coming back, like she’s been sinking at the bottom of a pool and is finally breaking the surface, coming up for air.
Ashton and Liam help Nova with Zeke, trying to settle him down until I finally offer a hand.
But Zeke doesn’t want me.
I wrestle him from Nova and cuddle him, trying to calm him down, offering him kisses and hugs, even grabbing a grape popsicle from the freezer, hoping to distract him with his favorite flavor.
The tears are now silent but keep flowing, and Harper can’t seem to look at him and can barely look at me.
I carry Zeke closer to Harper, but stand so that the dead body isn’t in Zeke’s line of sight. Zeke slowly licks his popsicle, his eyes red and splotchy as he sniffles. A few more tears streak down his cheeks.
I rest my forehead against Harper’s. “What’s going through your head?” It’s just the three of us, Harper, Zeke, and me.
Nova is relaying everything that happened to Ashton and Liam in the living room, giving them the full details of the assailant and what Harper had to do.
“I shot him in self-defense.” Harper’s answer reaches not only my ears, but Liam and Ashton’s as well.
“I believe you,” I say, nodding. “But we can’t go to the police. Not if you used that gun.” I nod toward the weapon on the floor.
“Why not?” Her glassy eyes meet my stare.
“Because that same gun was used to kill Massimo DeLuca. If you go to the police and turn in that weapon, you’ll be sending me to prison for life. My DNA is all over the murder weapon.”
Her gaze lowers as she turns and stares at his lifeless body on the floor. How the hell are we going to lug him out, dispose of him, and get rid of all the evidence?
“I’d never want to hurt you,” she whispers.
“Good, then you know that we can’t go to the police.”
She shakes her head, her brow tightening as her jaw trembles and she’s fighting back tears. “No.” There’s desperation in her tone, fear, and something else.
“They’ll lock me away, Harper. If they connect the dots and realize that weapon has been used in a previous killing—”
“I wouldn’t do that. I won’t.” Harper swallows, a frown etched across her face. “You don’t trust me.”
“I trust you, it’s why I told you the truth about Massimo.” I hadn’t wanted to tell her, and it had only been days ago that I’d fully come clean about it, but the truth was still in her hands to do with as she sees fit.
She could have me arrested and locked up for murder.
Her brow is tight, and she grabs my arm, imploring me with that look of utter determination. “I won’t risk your life, Luca, not after everything you’ve done for me.”
I slide my hand into hers, giving it a reaffirming squeeze. We’re in this together.
“Tell me what I have to do,” she says.
A prominent knock taps roughly against the front door.
Her eyes widen and she glances at the deceased’s body on the floor.
“Go shower,” I tell her, pointing at the bathroom.
She’ll have to walk past the dead body, but she needs to rid herself of the evidence, and right now, she’s still caked in blood.
Wordlessly, she nods and heads to the bathroom, her eyes focusing on the dead body on the floor.
Another firm knock on the door.
I can’t hear who is on the other end, but I want Harper out of those bloody clothes. She’s not going to help anyone if she answers the door covered in gore.
Zeke sniffles and takes another lick of his popsicle. His face is red, rosy, and I try and cheer him up while his mom showers.
Another, more persistent knock, and whoever is at the front door isn’t going away.
“It’s too soon to be my dad,” Nova says, glancing at her phone.
“Open up, Evergreen University Police!”
To Be Continued.