Bloody Hands
ESTELLE
I stare at myself in the mirror, trying not to fidget with the bodice of the dress again. The sweetheart neckline and lace patterns down the A-line skirt are the only two aspects of this dress that I like.
I do look good—that’s undeniable—but for the first time, I get what brides talk about when they refer to their wedding dresses as the one.
This dress is gorgeous, but it’s not the one.
I decide to just take it off and not walk out into the viewing room.
Thank God the zipper is on the side. It slides down smoothly, and I pull the dress off carefully, dreading getting the slightest blemish on something that would cost me six months rent if I was paying for it.
Hanging it back up, I consider the next one: a simple, body-hugging silk gown with a low back and spaghetti straps.
This one’s easy to get into—just pull it over my head and body. I hold my breath, my back to the mirror. It fits like a glove up to my lower hips, then falls loosely to the floor.
I turn around slowly, hoping upon hope that the seventh time is the charm.
I can’t help the gasp that escapes my open mouth.
Yes.
The one.
Excitement tightens my gut as I step out of the changing room and into the private viewing area of the bridal shop.
“Oh. My. Goodness,” the sales assistant says loudly, her hand going to her chest.
Grayson and Ross look up from where they’re sitting on the white couch. They had been looking around at nothing in particular—obviously bored out of their minds in the middle of so many wedding dresses.
Their eyes widen considerably when they see me, and Ross even sits up straighter. I try not to focus on their reactions, but really, they’re all I’ve got right now.
I stand on the circular platform, seeing myself in a different light in the mirror, and loving everything.
Grayson clears his throat loudly after a long moment of silence.
“Yep, that’s the one,” he says gruffly.
Ross nods slowly, eyes still wide. “Makes your ass look great.”
Grayson slaps him on the back of his head.
He winces. “I mean, you look good. Boss is going to love it.”
I chuckle to cover the nervousness starting to consume me, making my palms sweaty. I catch Grayson’s gaze in the mirror, his eyes sharply trained on my face.
“This is definitely the one,” I say to the saleswoman.
“A fine choice. I will bring a selection of jewelry and accessories for you to choose from—”
“In the changing room would be great,” I say quickly.
Grayson looks like he’s seconds away from giving life advice. The last thing I want is for him to misinterpret my nervousness.
I want to marry Carlos.
It’s just that most brides usually have months, or at least weeks, to prepare for a commitment like marriage. I’ve barely had a day.
And Carlos isn’t just any man.
He’s the grim reaper.
A Mafia King.
A dangerous man.
What if this life isn’t for me?
I’m about to take the dress off when someone knocks on the changing room door.
I had completely forgotten about the jewelry and accessories the sales agent was bringing, too caught up in my anxious thoughts.
The door unlocks with a loud click.
“I’m looking for something really simple and—”
The gun is pointed right at my face.
“Don’t make a fucking sound.”
I back up slowly, staring, shocked at a familiar cherubic face framed by perfect waves of platinum blonde hair.
Alice.
“How—what are you doing?” I stutter.
The corners of her cherry-colored lips pull up in almost a snarl, transforming her beautiful face into something ugly.
“What does it look like?” She walks closer, shutting the door behind her without shifting the gun. “I came to give you a wedding gift, sweetie.”
She pulls out a phone from the pocket in her trousers and presses her thumb to the side. It unlocks with a small sound before she lifts the screen toward my face.
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep from screaming.
Elsa’s arms are wrapped protectively around Micah, her expression grim, a gun pointed at her head.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I grit out, anger rising hard and fast, overshadowing the horror.
She bares her pearly white teeth. “Carlos wanted to surprise you by bringing your sister and nephew to Vegas for the wedding. How sweet is he?”
“Alice, I don’t know what’s going on—”
She steps closer, bringing the cold muzzle of the gun flush with my forehead. “He killed Santiago, and now I’m going to make sure he knows what it feels like to lose someone he loves.”
My mind is racing. How do I know that name? I heard it on the news a few days ago. A home invasion that ended with a cartel leader’s death.
“Santiago Ferreira?” I ask numbly.
Her glacial stare is all the confirmation I need. I swallow the lump lodged in my throat.
Alice has been working for the cartel all this time.
She was romantically involved with their leader.
“Alice, don’t—”
She steps aside. “We’re walking out of here, and you’re not going to make a sound. One wrong move, and I will paint that pretty white dress red.” She points to the door with the gun. “Let’s go.”
I don’t do as she says.
Instead, I turn to face her, backing against the low shelf. If she kidnapped Elsa and Micah, that means she’s planning to play a longer game.
She won’t immediately kill me.
It’s a high-stakes bet that could cost me my life if I’m wrong.
“What do you want, Alice? Please, just let them go. Please.”
Anger twists her features even more. She advances toward me, the gun never once wavering in her hand.
That’s exactly what I wanted.
“You bitch,” she snarls. I reach behind me with one hand, finding the encrypted phone. “You think I won’t kill you just because you went from chef to whore, and now—”
Her eyes dart to my hand behind my back. My whole body goes cold. I press the power button three times quickly, hoping that’s enough to alert Carlos or someone on his detail that something’s wrong.
The gun flies toward my face, colliding sharply with my temple. I stagger sideways, vision blurring.
I feel her yank the phone out of my hand.
“What did you do?” She bites out. “Did you press the button?”
“No, I—”
“Get your ass out the door before I kill you.”
This time I do what she says.
She gives me instructions, leading me down a hallway that leads to an exit door. I push hard on the metal handle and step out into the hot Vegas sun in a parking lot at the back of the building.
It’s not the one we parked in.
I take a moment to look around, hoping to see someone who can help me before I get in her car. My chances of survival will lower exponentially if she takes me somewhere else.
“Fucking move, bitch!” she growls.
The satin dress clings to me even more as I start to sweat from both terror and the hot sun.
“The red SUV to your left.”
I’m running out of time.
The car lights flash as she unlocks the doors.
Think, Estelle. Think.
But I am thinking, just not of myself.
“How do I know Elsa and Micah are safe?” I press my palms to the glass window on the passenger side, refusing to open the door until she gives me an answer.
I’m betting again.
And buying more time.
“If the people who have her don’t hear from me in three hours, they will be dead. So you have to be extra nice to me until then, don’t you?”
Fuck.
“Get inside the fucking car.”
I can’t.
If I go with her, I know I will end up dead, and my body will be left somewhere for Carlos to find.
The thought of him finding me in a bloody wedding dress on the day of our wedding makes bile rise in my throat.
“No.”
I need more time.
She presses the gun to my back. “Get. In. The. Car. Now.”
I’m suddenly paralyzed.
Alice starts breathing harder, pressing the gun even more into my back. Maybe if I turn around really fast, I can disarm her or—
“If you make me say it again—”
The loud bang echoes across the parking lot. I snap my head sideways toward the sound and see Grayson emerge from the exit door, his gun positioned in front of him.
His eyes are laser-focused on us.
I see the moment he recognizes Alice—shock widens his eyes for a second before he closes off his emotions.
The gun leaves my back, and a shot rings out like thunder.
Grayson ducks, then goes down on one knee, aiming at Alice.
I hear her pained cry at the same time that another shot is fired—this time coming from Grayson.
The front of my body is still flush with the side of the car, terror gluing me to the spot.
I turn back to look at Alice numbly. She’s on her back on the asphalt, a growing red spot at the center of the pale blue shirt she’s wearing.
She wheezes and coughs, blood sputtering from her mouth.
“No,” I cry.
I’m on my knees next to her before I even realize what I’m doing, my hand going to the bullet wound and applying pressure.
She groans.
“Where are they, Alice?” I ask frantically. “Please, tell me.”
Her body shakes, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize she’s laughing.
“You...better pray...I don’t die,” she wheezes.
I press on the wound harder.
“Are you okay, Estelle?” Grayson’s shadow falls over us, but I can’t look up.
I feel the numbness spreading through my body, the panic clouding my mind.
“She has Elsa and Micah.”
“Fuck,” he curses.
Dreadful silence follows, filled only by the wheezing sounds of Alice as she struggles to breathe.
Thick blood coats my hands, the smell of iron making my stomach churn, but I can’t stop. We stay like this for far too long, or maybe it’s just minutes.
“Estelle.”
I don’t look up as Carlos calls my name.
I can’t.
He kneels beside me, and I turn to look at his blurry face, realizing then that my eyes are swimming with tears.
“Micah—”
“I know, baby,” he says softly. “Let me take over.”
I shake my head.
If she dies, they die.
I have to keep applying pressure.
“Your hands are shaking, Estelle.” He places his larger ones over mine. “Let me take over.”
“She can’t die,” I sob, removing my hands quickly. Carlos covers the wound, still bleeding profusely.
I sit on the hard ground, the material of the wedding dress tearing somewhere, but I don’t care.
My eyes are fixed on my bloody hands.
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