8. Dragon
Chapter Eight
DRAGON
The lights came on, and then the tables were overturned, leaving us blinking in the angry gaze of Nix, who had hold of Pixel by the shoulder. Blood seeped beneath his hand. Ah. He was putting pressure on it. That was good. Then I could go back to kissing Horse.
The way Nix was glaring at me, no, I couldn’t go back to kissing Horse. “You want to explain this?” he demanded, holding up a bloody bullet. Blood stained his fingers, and his eyes had an unnatural sheen to them.
I frowned at the bullet. Looked like a generic brass 7.62, but when I looked closer, it was etched, ‘Congratulations Trixie and Horse!’ in tiny letters that stood out with the darker blood. I blinked and then looked at Nix. “Why would someone congratulate me by shooting Pixel?”
“All the bullets are engraved,” Nix said soberly. “This is just the one I took out of him.”
Pixel mewled and looked pathetic, but didn’t struggle in Nix’s grasp. He was apparently smarter than he looked.
“What?” Horse demanded, taking the bullet to peer at it. “How long would it take to engrave that many bullets? Who has that kind of equipment and would actually use it?”
It was my turn to mewl and look pathetic.
Cousin Ni?o believed in delivering messages with his bullets.
Usually, it wasn’t ‘congratulations’ though.
That also explained the helpful warning rifle cock.
They waited for a break in the music, so I could get under cover.
My family was so annoying. I patted Pixel’s shoulder, the one that wasn’t shot.
“Sorry about this. I’ll pay for the hospital. ”
“You…” Horse said, looking at me with all kinds of confusion.
“The family.” I shrugged. “Cannolis and engraved bullets. It’s what it is. So I need to take you to meet my mother before she sends the second wave.”
Nix sighed heavily. “They didn’t shoot anyone anywhere lethal. I take it that’s friendly fire to them?”
I shrugged again, feeling more and more idiotic, also aware of the way Horse was looking at me, shock and horror warring in his eyes.
I’d warned him about my mother; he just hadn’t realized what I was talking about when I said worse than Jezabel.
He was still holding the engraved bullet, so his fingertips were bloody.
That meant it would stain my white leather if he touched me.
Maybe he didn’t want to touch me after this.
He looked down at my dress, the leather corset ending above my belly, even though I didn’t have much there yet, flaring out to long leather panels. “Are those constellations embossed on the skirt?” he asked.
“Hey!” Pixel complained. “I got shot and you’re talking about her dress?”
Horse glanced at him, then shrugged. “It’s good to get shot every now and again. Helps build up your immunity. But I haven’t actually seen my wife in her wedding dress.” The intensity and absolute appreciation he gave me made me feel awkward and idiotic.
I turned around slowly, rolling my eyes when I faced him again. “It’s just a dress.”
He tucked the bullet into his inside pocket, came out with a handkerchief that he wiped his fingers on, returned that to his pocket and then slid his hands around my waist, pulling me against his chest. His broad chest was on perfect display in that tuxedo, and he felt like home.
I exhaled a breath in relief as I dropped my head on his shoulder. He said he didn’t mind messes.
“Um…” Jezabel said, coming up with a gun in one hand, but casual hold. Apparently, the threat was over. “You might want to come look at the sex tent. Or not. The white makes the blood really pop.”
Someone was killed in my tent? I charged past her, Horse right next to me.
“Do you think they ate all the snacks?” Horse asked.
I shot him a look. If this was my family crashing my wedding, who knows what they’d done?
Maybe I should have invited them after all.
Definitely should have invited them. Then only their enemies would have shot at us.
“Does eating snacks usually involve blood? No. I’m thinking Joey probably found a horse head. ”
“A horse head?”
“Because you’re a horse, and it’s a bed, and the Godfather. It’s his sense of humor.”
“Ah. So I should expect a horse head in your bed. Like a real one?”
I shrugged, and then we got to the tent. Yep. The big beams shone clearly enough to read the blood written on the tent. ‘Congratulations to the happy couple.’ Other less polite images and phrases were scrawled all over. Inside was worse.
And there was, indeed, a horse head under the blood-soaked blankets when I pulled it back.
“Anyone you know?” I asked Jezabel who was standing in the doorway, still with her casual pistol in her hand.
“No. Apparently the people who did this don’t want to die quite that painfully.”
Horse put the blanket back over the head and then looked around at the destroyed tent. “This is a pretty strong message, but I’m not sure what it says.”
I walked over to the overturned snack cooler.
Everything was on the floor, mixing with blood.
Too bad about the chocolate. In its place was a tray of cannolis, not a speck of blood to be seen.
I stared down at those cannolis like they were the most dangerous thing in this place.
They were. My mother’s personal trademark.
“So…” I said quietly. “If we don’t want to die, we should probably go see my family.
And you’ll probably want to ask my dad for permission to marry me.
And my brothers will want to fight you. And my mother will make you show her your muscles, and then she’ll show you my baby photos.
And then she’ll make you eat so many calories. ”
He pulled me into his arms, blocking out the rest of the world against his warm neck. I loved his neck. I’d wanted to kiss it and bite it and press my nose into it until I couldn’t breathe. But now we were going to visit the family instead.
“We don’t have to go,” Horse said quietly. “It’s fine to refuse. This is terrorism, and you don’t have to put up with it.”
I pulled away and gave him a shaky smile. “This is my family being friendly. You’re right, I can turn my back on them, but I’m not going to do that. I love them. And they love me. They’re hurt that I didn’t invite them to my wedding. I’m their baby girl no matter how old I am.”
“You’re saying that you’re the guilty one for not inviting psychos to your wedding who put a horse head in your honeymoon suite?
” Jezabel whistled long and loud. “Horse, you’re going to have to give this one all kinds of therapy.
But not in this tent. There’s already a horse here, and one horse in a tent is enough. ”
“Agreed,” Horse said, then scooped me up and carried me back towards the camp. “I’m taking the helicopter home.”
I bounced slightly against his chest, but I didn’t complain. He was staring straight ahead, a scowl in his eyes. “Okay. I’m so tired.”
He slowed down and turned his head to look at me, concern replacing the anger. “Of course you are. Planning a whole wedding by yourself…” He tsked. “You need a secretary.”
“Are you offering to share Charles?”
He shook his head, a slight smile on the edges of his beautiful mouth. “I’m offering my services.”
“You’ve been a secretary? Such a shocking secret life you’ve led.”
“No, I’ve never been a secretary, but how hard can it be? Can I rub your calves before you go to sleep?”
I stared into his eyes while he walked slower and slower until he came to a stop. “My calves?” The thought of his hands on me was entirely too delicious, like his strong arms wrapped around me.
His voice was a low growl. “Yes. We’re going to fly home to visit your family tomorrow morning. After you have a good night’s sleep in your bed. Without me. Because you need to rest. But I’d like to rub your calves first. Because I missed you.”
My heart lurched, and I nodded stupidly. “I think that’s a good idea. And it’ll be good to get the visit over with. I’m going to kill my brothers.”
“And I’ll flex for your mother. After I lecture her. For five hours.”
I laughed and then snuggled into his neck, letting him carry me home. “Don’t get distracted by her cooking. Be strong.”
He flexed slightly, squishing me against him almost uncomfortably. “I’ll be as strong as I need to be. Wife.”
That reminded me. I struggled away from him long enough to reach down the front of my dress and pull out the small satchel with the rings. I pried up his finger and put it on, then placed my own band around my finger.
“Husband, I love you.” For a moment I held my breath while he continued walking, smooth so I wasn’t jolted by the uneven terrain.
Maybe he hadn’t heard me. My heart was beating too fast, and my tongue felt clumsy and stupid. Like me.
“Wife. I love you,” he finally said, so soft, the words sank right through every emotional barrier I’d ever erected in this dark and cruel world. He loved me. I loved him. And now I was taking him home to meet the family.
We were so screwed.