Page 108 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
Andreas
I stare at my wife inawe. Her green satin dress is pooled around her knees, a sloppy sweater hanging off one shoulder and bare feet covered in dried blood.Mydried blood. Her hair is tied back but disheveled and there’s something that looks likefloursmudged across her cheeks.
She’s just bared her soul out there and she’s never looked more beautiful. I will never forget the image of her stepping through the door with my most lethal firearm in her hand. My barefoot, satin-clad Jessica Rabbit carrying a machine gun. The thought of it would make me hard were it not for the fact my chest has just been decorated with a six-inch-long scar.
I can’t believe what she did out there, for me. For us. She didn’t obey my instruction to stay in the guncellar—of course she didn’t. But if she had, I would be dead.
She handled that gun like a fucking pro too, but there’s no way I’m telling her that. It was beginner’s luck and I don’t trust that she’ll handle every firearm with equal panache. I’m sending her to target practice as soon as things get back to relative normality.
“Don’t you even think about telling me off for what I did.” She arches a brow and purses her lips.
“Okay, I won’t, but you will be punished as soon as I get my upper body strength back.”
She frowns. “What for?”
“For taking my prized M27 infantry rifle off the wall. That cost me an unpleasant interaction with an international arms dealer and my favorite Rolex.”
“It still worked when I gave it to your brother,” she says, pouting. “If it’s broken, it’s Benito who broke it.”
Her cockiness makes me smile.
“What would have been me?” Benito’s low voice enters the room before he does.
I glance mischievously at my wife. I’d like to see how she gets out of this one.
“I was just saying that if my husband’s precious M27 is broken, it would have been you who broke it, not me.”
Benito’s gaze coasts between me and Sera and the look on his face seems to say ‘what the hell have you married?’
Benito shakes out shoulders and comes to standbeside me with his hands deep in his pockets. “I have a present for you.”
I turn my head to face him. “For me?”
“Yes, brother.”
A look passes between us. It reminds me of when we were young kids being dragged out on one of our father’s ill-advised busts. Sometimes, a ‘look’ across a crowded room or vehicle was the clearest way to communicate. And it’s how we continue to communicate now.
“Where?”
Benito rocks back on his heels. “In the trunk.”
“Alive?”
Benito wipes a thumb across his mouth. “Just.”
I glance at my wife. Would she be okay with this? After all, I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure this home feels like hers as much as mine. She nods lightly.
“Bring him in,” I say.
Benito nods once then walks out of the living room, calling for Arrow. A few minutes later, they come back into the living room dragging a half-dead, beaten and bloodied, skinny old man. The same old man who turned up on the drive only weeks ago and insulted me. And the same old man who just orchestrated a small army to trick my wife and kill me.
He can barely stand, so Arrow and my brother hold him up, taking one arm each.
“Look at me,” I bark. My voice is so low it could be made of gravel.
It seems the energy has been sucked out of his spineso Benito wraps a hand around our father’s chin and lifts his head until his eyes meet mine.
I look over at Sera who is standing by the door. One pointed glance and she walks across the room and gently pulls me to a seated position. My left side screams in pain but it doesn’t distract me from the animal who may as well have driven a dagger into my heart at the tender age of eight. That was the first time he made me kill a man.
