Page 139 of Steal My Heart
A large piece of sheet metal comes crashing down, along with Nola, both landing on Kirksey.
Nola latches onto Kirksey’s head as he squeals, falling to the stage. “What the fuck is this? A bobcat?”
Gunfire pops off, and Fabien grabs his gun before kicking the table over. He jerks me down, but I shrug out of his hold.
Kirksey’s face looks like it’s been through a meat grinder as he flings Nola off him. Time slows as Nola goes flying, and Kirksey takes off running backstage.
Panic bubbles in my chest as I sprint up the stairs to catch Nola, but the cat lands on her feet.
Something hits me in the back, except I don’t land on mine; I’m knocked forward, landing on my stomach.
Dazed, I lift my head, with Fabien looming over me with his gun.
He curses, shoving his weapon in his waistband before helping me roll to my back. “You better not die like a little bitch and leave this unfinished between us. And when the fuck did you get a bobcat?”
“I’m wearing a vest.” I rip the buttons of my shirt and unsnap the vest, and the bullet drops to the floor. “She’s not a bobcat, but yes, Nola’s mine.” Remi’s mine, so by extension, Nola’s mine. “We’ll work out our situation later; right now, go put a bullet in Kirksey’s head.”
“With pleasure.” My brother takes off.
I scoop Nola up, giving my savior a cuddle. “We won’t tell your human that I stole you from her.”
Remi
“Was that—” My hands go to my mouth, my heart in my throat.
Gunfire.
“Cover your ears!”
“Why?”
Too late, because Alessandra has already shot out Sienna’s window. “Come on.” She climbs through, angling her body to miss the broken glass, and as I’m doing the same, another round of fire has my ears ringing.
“Dammit,” Alessandra curses. “I only clipped him. I’ve gotta work on my aim.”
“Who?” I ask, climbing out onto the pavement.
“Cornbread. I think he’s the problem? I’m not one hundred percent sure on that, but either way, he got himself a bullet graze.”
Before I can process this information, the man I’ve only seen in photographs, Fabien Calvani, screeches to a stop. “Where did he go?”
“Where is Angelo?” I force my voice steady.
Fabien’s cold blue eyes meet mine. “Inside with his bobcat. Where did Kirksey go?” he asks his sister.
“That way. Follow the blood.” Alessandra points toward the alley, and Fabien takes off.
The interior office door opens, and Nic appears, cursing. “Jesus Christ. Get the fuck back inside the building.”
I climb back through the window, and then Alessandra.
“Remi, come to the lounge. Al, it’s best you lay low, because Angelo said you’re cooked.”
“No way Angelo said that,” Alessandra argues.
“He used fancier terms.” Nic snatches the gun from his cousin. “I’m paraphrasing.”
I hurry past them into the lounge, my eyes landing on Angelo with his shirt ripped off, cuddling Nola on stage.
