Page 69 of Legacy

Pello lay in a crumpled heap on the grassy field. Avra stood a short distance from him, stock-still as if in a daze. After a few moments, she staggered and ran in Pello’s direction.

I rushed to her, not trusting that Pello was indeed down. We reached him at the same time. I fought to catch my breath.

Avra remained stoic, unflinching, as I wrapped my arms around her.

Blood spilled from the single hole in the center of his forehead. He gasped for air, each inhale growing slower and slower.

A warm stickiness coated my fingers, and I glanced down to find the sleeve of Avra’s suit shredded and blood seeping from her arm.

“You’re hurt.” I lifted her arm to inspect the damage.

She twisted, trying to take a look. “It’s not so bad. He’s a lousy shot.”

“You’re fucking out of your mind. You could have died.”

She clenched her jaw. “He couldn’t go free.”

“I would have found him for you.” I jerked her to me, my irritation growing by the second. “Your life is my priority.”

“And your life is mine.” She poked me in the chest. “Got it? He is the one behind the hit.”

“Yes, the hit. When did you find out?”

“This morning.”

“And you didn’t think telling me before this meeting was important?”

“You protect me. I protect you. That’s the deal.”

I leaned in, narrowing my gaze. “The terms are very clear. You are mine. You belong to me. In exchange, I help you serve up your wrath.”

“Then help me serve it, husband. They targeted my family. This includes you.”

Nineteen

Avra

A week after what I liked to call the elimination at the vineyard, I waited for Cali outside a new modern art gallery. She insisted that I would surely find a piece that Eli and I could agree on for the dining room.

I doubted her optimism. However, Eli and I had decided to meet here after he finished his business with his chiefs.

My phone buzzed with a text from Cali.

Cali: I am running late. Be there in a few minutes.

“A few,” I muttered and shook my head.

In Cali terms, that could mean anywhere between five and fifty. I might as well check out the pieces on my own for a “few”minutes.

I smiled to myself as I approached the door to the gallery and then frowned as my security lead, Besa, pushed open the door.

“I can go in without assistance. Eli is going overboard with this.”

Besa shrugged. “We have our orders. He doesn’t want you straining your arm until the doctor says you have completely recovered.”

“It’s a door. This is annoying.”

No matter what Eli believed, my arm worked perfectly well, and outside of healing skin, there was nothing amiss. An occasional muscle twitch was part of the process of things knitting together. It wasn’t as if the bullet hit anything vital.

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