30. Carter
THIRTY
CARTER
Fuck, getting shot hurts like a motherfucker.
I’ve been stabbed, sliced, and tortured, but this pain is a brand new form of hell I’d only wish on the most vile of men.
For a few seconds, I thought that bullet was the end to my story, but as my eyes drifted shut, there wasn’t a sense of peace or silence.
All I could hear was two distinct voices begging me to stay, to fight, and when I came back to consciousness, the sound of nonstop gunfire forced my body to move.
The idea of losing Jasper, that he was the one being shot, pushed me into survival mode, and somehow, I managed to tie off my wound, stand on my own two feet, and bring the three of us back on solid ground.
It’s not easy, being the glue that keeps these boys together, but I’d take a thousand bullets if it meant they were still here to obsessively worry about my wellbeing.
“Two phones, three guns, and one strange device that looks like a Blackberry from the middle ages. Why are you still standing? Go sit in the backseat!” Jasper says, handing over a small bag and eyeing me up and down like I’ll crumble to dust at the slightest touch.
“It’s my father’s. An encrypted satellite phone that can’t be traced. Did you go through it?” I ask, ignoring his pleas for me to sit, and wincing as Tyson wraps another layer of gauze over my arm, his main focus being to ensure I’m quadruple-wrapped with zero chance of bleeding out.
“That thing is older than we are, Principessina. You have to be at least fifty to decode that bomb,” he snorts, rolling his eyes as he holds up a lighter in one hand, and a gas can in the other.
Without a word, I punch at the numbers until the code I’ve memorized like the pledge of allegiance unlocks the phone, and the ‘beep beep beep’ of it initializing fills the silence.
“Well, it helps if you bought and programmed the system.” I wink, stuffing the phone in my back pocket, knowing my father well enough that he’ll be calling for a status update very shortly.
Two sets of eyes stare at me like I just spoke a foreign language, but we’re all still getting used to the idea of my true identity being out in the open.
After spending months with them, carefully picking each and every word that left my lips, a certain brand of freedom has come from the fact that they know I’m – was – a mafia princess, daughter of a powerful Don and trained to kill, exactly like they were.
My skills go deeper than an extensive knowledge of blades, and since we’ve been back together, I’ve slowly been revealing those tidbits, peeling away the final layer of armor I used as a shield to survive at Emory.
“Tyson, get her settled in the backseat. Aspirin and water is the diet today, my little blood-soaked devil,” Jasper says, placing a quick kiss on my cheek and pushing me toward Tyson, but I dig my heels in the dirt, not liking him putting me in a box, so to speak.
“What, I can’t drive anymore?” I joke, and his eyes glaze over, the vein in his temple throbbing at my words, causing a smirk to cascade across my lips.
“You’re lucky I’m even letting you near that car, Principessina. Go.” He orders with a certain brand of seriousness in his tone that I rarely ever see, but instead of poking the bear, I oblige, allowing Tyson to envelop me in his arms.
“You really have a knack for almost dying, don’t you, baby girl?” Tyson muses, both of us craning our necks to catch a glimpse at Jasper’s grand idea of destroying the evidence of our firefight.
Just by his stance alone I can see the devil has come out to play, and even though I got shot, nearly killing these big mafia boys in the process, Jasper is still the same sociopath he’s always been, the opportunity to fuck around with fire or blow something up igniting the darkest parts of his soul.
“I’m meant to be immortal, Tyson. I’d live on in your heart, whisper in your ear every time the wind blows, and haunt your bedroom if you ever brought another woman in your bed,” I laugh, but he doesn’t find me very funny, snatching my chin between his fingers.
“I’d chop my dick off with a rusty butter knife before I’d ever let it get semi-hard for another woman. It’s you or nothing, baby girl,” he chokes out, the emotion straining his words, but I believe every single syllable, knowing that I’m it for them, and they’re all I’d ever need.
“Where to now, Captain?” I ask Jasper once he slides back into the driver’s seat, immediately switching gears and slamming on the gas pedal like our bullet-hole ridden car is the one about to blow up.
“California.” He doesn’t blink, laugh, or even move a muscle in his face, the hardness in his features glaring through the rearview mirror, and even I can admit, he’s scary when in business mode.
Before either of us can dig deeper into that wild statement, an explosion rings out behind us, the dark smoke billowing through the air as the birds in the trees scatter, flying in every direction to escape the flames.
“Did you get fucking shot? Because that’s the exact thing we’re running away from,” I say, jumping over the middle console and taking the passenger seat in an attempt to decode this big idea in his head.
It’s as if the past few minutes have completely changed the man sitting in front of me, the carefree, goofy roadtrip version of Jasper being replaced with a content, calculated man on a mission, and his unpredictable attitude casts doubt straight through me like a hot shot of electricity.
If I can’t count on him to keep it together in the face of adversity, then I’m fucking lost.
Jasper handles the blood, guts, and gore like it’s just an average day, while matching the crazed thoughts that run through my mind and spit out sarcasm like a factory-operated machine.
Tyson controls the narrative, staying strong by planning every next step, all while pushing back on the violence and wrangling our asses until we’re back on the track he creates.
Everything is upside down, especially with Tyson silent in the back seat, not even an uptick in his breathing at Jasper’s ridiculous notion of turning back toward the States.
“We’re never going to make a clean break, Carter.
We were foolish to even try, and now, he’s always going to be one step behind us, lurking in the shadows until he can catch us off guard.
It’ll only be so many victories before he has one of his own, and I will not let him take you.
I refuse,” he states, both hands clasped around the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip, and a shiver runs down my spine at the thought of him agonizing over our dark deal.
“You mean my father? Jasper, if we stick to Tyson’s plan, we’ll be so far away that he’ll never know where to look. Just turn the car around, please,” I beg, not ready to give up on our escape plans, fantasies, and ideas of freedom.
We deserve the life we want, together.
All I’ve lived through without them, and the shit they went through when I was gone, will not be for nothing. I won’t let my father steal our past, our progress, and most importantly, our future.
“We’re going back to California to end this once and for all. You’re getting your wish, Carter. You’re going to murder your father.”