Chapter 18 #2
Her spine stiffened to a solid rod and her skin puckered with goosebumps. The iron flavor of panic exploded over her taste buds. She inhaled through her nose, but it didn’t slow the firing particles of adrenaline that needed to be released.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she anticipated the bullet’s penetration through her bone.
“Dad?” The syllable dripped from his lips and landed at his feet with the force of a bomb. He blinked.
To Milo, Angelo had always looked the same.
The few times he’d seen him in prison, he hadn’t shown a gradual change in appearance.
Now, he was different. A shell of himself.
His mouth gaped into a snarl that revealed his teeth.
The pearly whites had always struck Milo as odd considering his dad smoked and drank daily.
His hairline receded farther back than Milo remembered, and gray had almost overtaken the black.
Even his whiskers were more salt and pepper than ebony against his tanned skin.
His eyes were the feature Milo had never forgotten.
Brown irises hard with contempt yet shadowed with a hint of regret.
He could count on one hand how many genuine smiles had touched those glassy lasers.
And those smiles had always denoted happiness at someone else’s expense.
Possibilities whirred through his mind, but he couldn’t slow his thoughts to catch one. His dad had Serena . . . and Dani too.
Sonofabitch.
“You did this?” Not lowering his gun, he took a step forward.
He’d kill him. Milo flicked his gaze to Serena.
Black metal pressed against the alabaster column near her ear.
Sweat rolled between his shoulder blades to tickle his spine.
Confusion pushed at his consciousness, poking holes in the evidence standing right in front of his face.
“Why?” he hissed. Serena blinked, and the tears collecting at her lashes squeezed the air from his lungs. He wanted to reassure her, to swear Angelo wouldn’t hurt her . . . but he couldn’t.
“Why?” Angelo echoed. “Her uncle stole everything from me. Sebastian had me locked up for ten fucking years!” His raised voice was amplified by the wind and open landscape.
“I needed to make a living, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to risk going to prison again.
” One of those rare genuine smiles danced on his lips.
“The day I got released, I caught a bus. And guess whose pretty face was plastered on the side of it?”
His laugh boomed out, sending pangs through Milo’s heart. His gaze lowered to Serena again, and he battled the emotions that prevented him from pulling the trigger.
“Gotta admit, I never thought she’d get out of the business. Almost didn’t believe my eyes when I saw she’s a realtor.”
“Let her go.”
Angelo ground the weapon deeper into Serena’s flesh, and Milo winced as pain distorted her face.
“I’m taking her with me, son, and if you take another step or pull the trigger, she’ll be dead too.
” His jaw was set in a firm line, leaving no room for doubt.
He’d kill her now without a second thought, but he’d also kill her when she no longer served him.
Angelo inched her backward. Serena’s fingernails clawed into his wrist, and Angelo shook his arm as if trying to rid a mosquito from his skin.
Milo’s stomach lurched. He couldn’t let them get back in the car.
Cold droplets of sweat rolled over his eyebrows, but he didn’t dare dash them away. He took a step forward.
“Don’t move, Milo!” Angelo swung the weapon away from Serena’s throat and pointed it at Milo.
A hard glint fleeted in Serena’s eyes, and an alarm screeched through Milo’s head.
She flung her body forward, loosening Angelo’s arm around her in the process.
Then she swung her elbow back, catching him in the chin.
Crack!
Angelo’s gun fired.
No!
Serena dropped to the ground and Milo fired.
Angelo’s shoulder jerked, and he reeled with the impact of the bullet.
His gun sailed to the ground and Milo charged for it.
Serena moved from her position on the ground, scooping the gun into her grasp before he reached her.
She crab-crawled backward and Milo skidded on the pavement at her side.
The asphalt grabbed at the material covering his knees, stinging his kneecaps.
He closed his arms around her waist, cradling her to his chest. He signaled to Brock to move in on Angelo. His father growled and cursed as Brock restrained him.
“Baby, are you all right?” He wrestled her in his arms, turning her to face him. He’d deal with his dad later. Her chin trembled and her shoulders shook.
“Y-Yes.” The steel in her hand jostled, and he placed his hand over the barrel unintentionally pointed at his chest and slapped it on the ground at his side.
He cupped her face, taking in the purpling skin from the muzzle of the gun.
He compressed his lips. If his dad didn’t die, Milo would dislocate his fucking jaw for bruising her.
She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his throat. A sob squeaked from her lips, and he stroked his fingers through her hair. The floral scent that had become so familiar over the last several days floated over him, and he inhaled.
He’d never let that scent leave his life again.
He’d never leave her again.