Page 5 of Sapphires and Snakes
The moment the ballroom’s double doors click shut behind me, I deflate. My hands shake, and my skin crawls. I scrape my palms over my neck, my arms, my chin. Darius leads us through the maze of back hallways, and I assume we’re on our way to the dressing rooms, but I couldn’t name the color of the carpet or the walls, even if threatened. Tamayo’s fingers hover over the small of my back, not touching but radiating warmth and weight, like an ephemeral anchor to reality. I focus on the magnetic pull of her presence, hoping it can calm the frenetic pounding of my heart echoing in my ears.
“Shit—Pat.” I halt and turn to them. “Security tapes.”
They nod, turning on their heel and racing back down the hall. Only then do I notice that three of Tamayo’s people are behind us, and further down the hall, my parents round the corner.
“Fuck.” I grab Tamayo’s wrist. “Get me out of here. Now.”
“Gladly.” She taps one of her capos on the shoulder, and they turn, arms up to stop my parents’ approach. Then Tamayo’s guiding me forward, and Darius is leading the way again.
“Can I touch you?” she whispers in my ear.
The question, after Marcus’s second assault on my person, tumbles bricks from the precarious dam close to crumbling inside of me. “Please.”
Her hand finally closes the gap, wrapping protectively around my waist and half-carrying me through the door—to outside.
I gulp lungfuls of brisk, autumn air. It stings my throat, and goosebumps scatter up my arms and chest, a cleansing freeze that burns awayhistouch. The fear he invoked coats my tongue like an acidic aftertaste that won’t fade. I lean into Tamayo lest I trip down the steps and face plant on the asphalt.
“Careful,” she murmurs.
Darius yanks open the car door, and Tamayo lifts me into the back. She tries to settle me into my seat, but my hand won’t relax around her wrist, a claw digging into her suit jacket. I look at my arm like it’s another person’s limb. But no matter how many times my brain commands it to relax, it won’t.
Tamayo simply slides in next to me, pulling me against her chest so she isn’t awkwardly leaning across me. And then the door slams shut. Darius and one of the capos slide into the front, taking off with a screech of tires.
The city passes in a blur of lights and sounds I don’t try to discern. All I can muster focus for is trying to loosen my grip on Tamayo’s wrist. I stare at my fingers, lifting one at a time. But before the next can rise, the previous snaps back like magnets to metal. It’s useless. I squeeze my eyes shut, face stuffed into her starched black shirt, and without permission, her arm under my grip morphs into Marcus’s gun. My breath shallows, my muscles tighten.
“Tamayo.” Her name comes out like a plea.
“A few more minutes.”
Tears burn my eyes, and I suck in a calming breath, but the exhale is shaky and wet. We’re not alone yet. I can’t release. Not yet.
“Princess.” Tamayo’s voice is pained. She lifts me off the seat and onto her lap, maneuvering me and my unwieldy dress into position so I can rest my head in the crook of her shoulder, nose stuffed into her neck and breathing in as much of her scent as possible. “Focus on my voice, hm? We’re in the car, on our way home, where Marcus can’t touch you. You’re in my arms, and you can stay there as long as you need.” She strokes the loose hair at the nape of my neck. “Hell, I might need you stay in my arms longer than you do.”
I sniff a chuckle.
“Whatever you need, let me know. You’ll be okay.” Tamayo keeps speaking, a low whisper in my ear, lips soft against my cheek. Her hands rub soothingly over my skin until I stop shivering. I focus on the feel of the calluses on her palms and fingers, on the timbre of her voice, on the weight of my body where it sits in her lap. Tangible, real things that are grounded in the here and now and not the scene twenty minutes ago. And when the car pulls into the garage, I can finally let go of her.
But Tamayo can’t.
She threads her fingers through mine and leads me toward the house. And for possibly the first time ever, Darius doesn’t follow. He stays in the town car as the nameless capo jumps into another, less ostentatious sedan, and both back out of the garage, one after another.
I shoot Tamayo a confused frown.
“Pat and the other capos.” She holds open the door and tries to guide me through it.
I don’t move. Instead, I watch until the garage closes fully, unable to shake the thought that someone could roll under it andinside. I glance up to the ceiling—no sky lights for anyone to pry open and jump down into our small fortress.
Tamayo’s phone rings, and I jump, hand to my chest. She digs it out of her inner jacket pocket and switches it off, her other hand never leaving mine. “They can wait. Come on.”
“We’re safe here, right?” I ask as she pushes the door shut behind me.
“Yes.”
I eye the large windows facing the backyard, the French doors leading to the deck. “How safe?”
“Safe enough that the Accardis didn’t dare make a move until we were out of the house,” she murmurs into my ear.
“Good point.”
