As we’re leaving the room, Theo must be able to sense my nerves because he takes my hand. “We’ve got this,” he says. “As long as we’re together.”
I squeeze his hand. “Together,” I repeat, stepping with him onto the elevator and returning to the real world with my husband by my side.
Chapter Eight
Theodore
I try to put on a brave front for Daphne, but I’m as nervous as she is. Even as the oldest Latsis son, I’ve never exactly been a rebel. I’ve always been more of a follower, in fact, letting Mac take the lead—and the blame. So, I decide to start somewhere easy. With the boys.
Daphne and I find them easily enough. It’s a Saturday morning, and even though the sky is cloudy, it isn’t raining yet, so I head to Oakwood Square Park. They’re there, but instead of playing the usual game of pick-up basketball, they’re gathered around a picnic table.
I park right in front of them. “Wait here for a minute?”
“Sure,” Daphne nods.
It’s not that I’m ashamed or hiding her; it’s just that I know they’ll have jokes, and I want them to get them out before meeting her. Also, Mac is there. We haven’t talked since our blow-up yesterday. I can already see him eying the car warily. Damien clamps a hand on his shoulder and whispers something in his ear.
I cross the strip of grass to them. Most of them greet me with wary high-fives, but Mac glares at me angrily.
“Look, Mac, I’m—”
“Ty Jordan knows,” he interrupts me. There’s a fresh cut through his lip, and what looks like blood smeared across his shirt.
“What?”
“All night, I’ve been dealing with his ass while you fuck his cousin.”
I square my shoulders. “Don’t talk about Daphne like that.” Ignoring whatever smartass retort he shoots at me, I turn to Damien and ask, “What happened?”
“He got to Valentina.”
I curse and run a hand through my hair. Valentina was supposed to be covering for Daphne with her parents. If Ty showed up at her house and found her alone… “Shit,” I curse again, hoping that Valentina is okay.
“He’s looking for you. When he couldn’t find you, he opened fire on the house to try to draw you out.”
“Shit. Is everyone okay?”
“No one was shot,” Damien says. “But everyone is spooked. Mac went after him.” That explains the new injuries.
I look back at the car and see Daphne watching me, but I don’t motion for her to get out. I have to figure this out, make sure she and everyone else is safe. This fighting has to end. Everything feels like it’s balancing on a precarious edge right now. Like it could all come tumbling down at any moment. I have to finish this now, before it’s too late.
Just as I’m turning back to Mac to apologize, there’s the sound of squealing tires. All of the Latsis boys stand and watch as a sleek, black BMW swings into the parking lot and comes to a lurching stop a few yards away. The door opens and Ty Jordan emerges from the driver’s seat. He’s like a bigger, harder, masculine version of Daphne, with the same curly black hair and blue eyes, but a smirk where a smile should be. Three of his boys pile out of the car behind him. On either side of me, I feel Damien and Mac reach for their guns. I still them with my hands. My eyes flick over to Damien’s car where Daphne is still sitting. She watches her cousin, and I can tell she’s trying to decide whether or not to get out. Remembering my aunt, I pray that she stays where she is, out of the line of fire.
Ty grins crazily at us and holds his hands out to the side. “Come on, Theo. Are you afraid to face me like a man?”
“What do you want, Ty?” I ask as he takes a few steps closer.
“To kill you,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’ve disgraced my family for the last time.”
“I’m done fighting with you,” I tell him, letting my hands fall to my side. “We’re practically family.”
This pushes Ty over the edge. With a roar, he charges me. His shoulder catches me in the stomach and flings me back against the picnic table. I hit it with a crack, and blinding pain threatens to steal my vision.
“We will never be family,” he says, punctuating his words with a fist to the face.
My head lurches sideways and I spit warm blood onto the wooden picnic table. Over Ty’s shoulder, I see Mac, but I hold up my hand, stopping him again. He glares at me, but I turn my eyes on Ty.
“I will not fight you,” I say. “Cousin.”
Ty lunges off of me, and in the blink of an eye, his gun is in his hand and he’s aiming it at me. “I told him,” Ty growls almost to himself. “I told him, whatever it takes.”
Beneath his arm, I see Daphne stumble out of the car. Ty cocks the gun, his hand steady. I stare down the barrel, stunned, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. My life flashes before my eyes—seemingly endless nights spent with the love of my life, a house on an Italian hillside, babies that I will never know. Ty holds all of that in his hands.
And then, in a split second, the sound of the firing gun rents the morning air just as Mac hurls himself at me. I brace myself for the pain of the bullet, but it doesn’t come. Instead, warm droplets of blood soak my face and shirt and Mac’s body falls heavily on top of me. The two of us roll off the picnic table to the concrete patio below. Daphne screams, a blood-curdling sound that chills me to my very bones. Mac is dead-weight on top of me and something warm soaks my shirt. By the time someone rolls him off of me, the BMW is already pulling away from the park, tires squealing.
“He took Daphne,” Damien says, running over to us.
But I can’t think about that right now. At least I know Ty won’t hurt her. Not like he did Mac, who’s lying on the concrete, panting hard, a hand pressed to his stomach. I pull his head into my lap.
“Mac,” I say urgently, shaking his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
He winces up at me. “It’s just a scratch,” he says, but then he coughs, and blood spews from his lips. Damien kneels beside us and tugs Mac’s hands away from his stomach to find a gaping, bloody wound.
“You fucking idiot,” I hiss at him.
“Me?” He coughs again, choking on the blood. “You’re the asshole who wouldn’t fight him.”
“You should have let me face the consequences.”
“When have I ever done that?” His chuckle turns into a sputtering, bloody cough. I feel the warm droplets splatter my cheek.
One of Mac’s friends hovers over me. I grab his sleeve. “Call an ambulance,” I order. “Now.”
“The Jordans already called the police,” he says to me. “I heard the call. They told them you shot Mac. That you’re armed and dangerous.”
“What?” I don’t even have my gun on me. It’s ludicrous, but the police will believe it. The Latsis boys have always been troublemakers. They’ve just been waiting for a reason to pick one of us up.
“The police are coming to arrest you,” Damien repeats. “We need to go.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.” But when I pull my hands away, they’re red with Mac’s blood.