Page 12 of The Heir
Roman hasn't even shifted into park when I wrench open the door and rush to the van. The driver swings open the door and stumbles to the ground, coughing and retching. I quickly dispatch the man with my SIG Sauer—someone screams, maybe Melody?
Our backup vehicle squeals to a halt behind the wreckage, and the other three men pour out. Roman takes the lead, and I fire another shot at the prison van's radio. Another man in prison guard garb sits in the passenger seat, coughing and pushing at the deployed airbag.
"Wait!" he yells and wheezes. "Don't shoot, please!"
"No." I fire another round between his eyes and smirk as his blood sprays out, drenching the window behind him. Whirling around, I call out for my wife. "Melody!"
The only response I get is a feral scream and more gunshots. A blond man tumbles out the back doors of the van, bleeding profusely from his leg. "That crazy bitch stabbed me!"
Bang!
The blond man drops to the ground, groaning in pain. Roman sprints to him and puts another bullet in hishead. The feral screaming—it must be Melody—pierces the night air, accompanied by rattling chains and grunts of exertion.
"Stay back!" I call over to my men and race around to the open rear doors. I can't see anything in the cargo hold, but I can hear frantic, heavy breathing.
She lets out a screaming wail, and something small and sharp embeds itself in my thigh—I grunt as pain radiates from the wound, hot and sharp.
"Fuck off! Stay away! I'll fucking kill you!" Melody shrieks into the night.
Oh, my god. My heart shatters into razor-thin glass as I finally see her. Sweat pours from her as she struggles against her restraints. Her eyes flash in the moonlight and I've never seen anyone more beautiful in my life. She's fierce, feral, entirely unhinged—and allmine.
"It's me, love, it's me," I murmur as I approach her slowly. "It's me. It's Dante. I'm here to get you out."
"Dante?" Melody's voice cracks, and so do I. "I… I stabbed you."
"You did," I agree. I grip the object in my thigh and yank it out with a sharp hiss. It's a plastic toothbrush, sharpened into a deadly point with a razor blade embedded into the side. Blackened, melted plastic holds the sharp edge in place. I smile as I regard the improvised weapon; Melody is nothing if not resourceful. "I'm so proud of you."
"But… I stabbed you?" She shakes her head, rattling the chains cuffed to her limbs. "I'm so sorry."
"No. No, no." I rush over to her and cradle her face in my hands. God, she feels like heaven. "You protected yourself. You did—you did what I couldn't."
She snakes her hand up to mine and pulls it close to her mouth, kissing my fingers. "I'm so sorry, Dante. I'm so sorry."
"Hush, love. Let's get you out of here. We can argue about who did what later," I whisper and kiss the top of her head, inhaling the musk of her frightened sweat.
"Here, sir," Roman announces as he clambers up into the van. With a fine-toothed hacksaw in hand, he quickly cuts through Melody's restraints. Together, we help her out of the van and into our (slightly battered) SUV.
I buckle her in and kiss her forehead again. God, I could kiss her for hours. I could live the rest of my life tangled up in her. I would die a happy man, burrowed into her dips and curves, connected at every touch. She lets out a whimpering moan and tilts her head back.
My heart detonates in my chest the instant our lips touch. Nothing matters but her. The world melts away, leaving us suspended in this space. She is everything I remembered and more. My love. My life. My wife. Her tongue slips between my lips, and she pulls a groan from deep in my lungs.
Stars erupt around us; vast nebulae burst into existence and blink out in a heartbeat. She's mine. She's here. I have her. I will never, ever let her go.
Melody pulls back an inch, panting heavily with tears in her eyes. "What happens now?"
"We get you somewhere safe. But first, we need to take care of… this." I gesture to the wreckage. She peeks over my shoulder and watches the crew sprinkle accelerant over the transport van and construction machinery. "My love, do you like fires?"
"Kinda, yeah." She rubs her wrists, and I finally notice the red marks from the handcuffs. Those ratfuck bastards chained her up too tight—but they won't do anything at all, ever again. I cover her wrists with my own hands and gently squeeze.
"Please, love. Please let me massage you when we're in the safe house." I think I might die if she says no.
"Oh, my god. I missed you so much," she whispers and pulls me back in for another soul-shattering kiss. She's everything. I want nothing more than to lose myself in her touch, but we need to finish the job and get her safe.
"Sir?" Roman calls from outside the car. "It's ready."
"Would you like to do the honors, love?" I tilt my head towards the group of men.
"It's all yours," she says softly. Exhaustion is plain on her face.
