Page 69 of August

“Nah. I’m too nervous. Best medicine for that is cooking, so once the ingredients get here, I’ll be a little more at ease.”

Taschen ripped off a piece of naan bread. “This is amazing.”

“You can take some home—”

Ding-dong

Taschen leapt to his feet, drawing his gun from the small of his back.

“That must be the groceries.” Gigi knotted her hands in front of her while Taschen made his way to the front door.

“Must be. I’ll get it.” He stared out the peephole, his gun slightly lowered, then tucked the weapon into the waistband at his back and unsnapped the lock. “Thanks,” he said, to whomever was in the hall.

Gigi moved forward to help with the bags. Then a flurry of movement had her staggering back.

Thwack, thwack!

Taschen dodged. Bullets flew through the door. Drywall exploded in the kitchen. Gigi yelped and fear ping-ponged against her nerve endings. Someone shoved open the door, and Taschen tackled a man with a bandana. Gigi screamed and clamped her hands over her ears as she dropped to the floor.

“Gigi, get back!” Taschen yelled.

He delivered a savage blow to the man’s face with the butt of his gun. Blood spattered the walls. Taschen shouted more orders but Gigi couldn’t process them amid the wail of warning bells in her head.

Another man rushed forward, trampling the groceries that had spilled on the floor. He wore a black beanie and dark clothing. She screamed as he hauled her up by her arm.

Taschen turned the gun on the man holding her. “Let her go or I’ll blow your fucking head off.” Blood coated his T-shirt and rage tightened his face as he stood.

The man holding Gigi lifted his arm, a long barrel attached to muzzle of the weapon—a silencer pointed right at Taschen. Fear swelled in her throat. “Look out!”

Taschen ducked for cover, but the shooter got off two rounds. Taschen’s body blew backward and slammed into the wall.

The man gripping Gigi’s arm dragged her toward the door. “No!” she screamed.

Blood blossomed from a bullet hole in Taschen’s chest. More dark blood oozed down the side of his head.

Oh god, he’s shot in the head.

Guttural cries rasped from her throat. He was going to die—all because of her. “Stop!” Gigi screamed, needing to alert someone. Needing to help him.

Wham!

A fist connected with her cheekbone, snapping her head to the side. Her footing faltered, and if it weren’t for the tight, talonlike grip on her arm, she’d have sunk to the ground.

The man’s menacing face came inches from hers. “Don’t make a fucking sound. If you scream or get anyone’s attention, I’ll fucking kill them. Then you later. Got it?” His thick Spanish accent dripped with promise.

Gigi turned her attention to Taschen’s lifeless form. His body was limp and the color was quickly draining from his face. She sniffed back a sob and nodded.

No one else would die because of her.

The man Taschen had fought stumbled to his feet, mopping his blood-stained chin.

“Good.” He dragged her into the hallway. The bright fluorescents lights were harsh and unrelenting on her retinas.

The shooter closed the door, sealing off any hope of someone finding Taschen if it wasn’t already too late.

One thing was certain—it was too late for her.

***

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