Page 75 of Sapphires and Snakes
Marcus growls in frustration. “Dad will come.”
“Before or after Pat shoots you?” I ask. The gunfire is slowing, and I hope to whatever god there is that our people are dispatching the Accardi scum crawling through our home.
“Get out, Marcus.”
I almost lose my grip on Danny when I wince in surprise. Mother said that. Mother, whose pride and ego are so enormous,she’d rather sell me off to hide her mistakes than own up to them and allow us a chance to make them right. Mother, who tried to help this man kidnap me and forcefully marry me. She’s telling him to leave.
She clears her throat, speaking again. “Get out and live.”
Marcus glares at each of us in turn, saving me for last. He stands at the barrel end of two guns, his only ally in this room dead at my hands and not enough men in the house to overtake it. He has no choice. But he doesn’t move. He backed me into a corner, took all I had to lose, and created the shrew he couldn’t tame.
I will kill him, will drag myself to death’s doorstep, will sacrifice my place in this family and all my earthly possessions in order to be free of him. But he won’t do the same to have me. And we both know it.
His shoulders deflate. His hand lowers. And then, before he can holster his gun, the library door bursts open.
Andrea Tamayo stumbles into the room.
Marcus aims his gun at her, but I’m over this. I shoot. The bullet goes wide, like I intended, but Marcus ducks instinctually. Pat lunges forward and tackles him into the carpet. His gun skitters across the floor, unfired.
“Princess,” Tamayo breathes. Her hair is a mess, her suit sprayed red with blood, and she’s scanning me with so much concern, I almost fold right then and there. She did the last thing I asked of her, and even when she obtained everything she used me for, she still came here, to the house of her personal villain. For me.
But I don’t need saving.
I ignore her, shoving Danny’s heavy, floppy body off me and to the floor with a resounding thud. My knife drips crimson in my hand. Marcus is cursing Pat to hell and back as they pin his arms behind his back, their knee shoved into his spine.
I feel Tamayo’s gaze on me as I check the chamber of Danny’s gun. “What’s the commotion?” I ask her.
“Gallos against Accardis,” Tamayo says.
“Odds?”
“Gallos, six-to-one.”
“Hear that, Marcus?” I stride across the room with the same assured gait that he used, the one that assumed ownership of the space and everything, everyone, in it. Only for me, it’s true. “Six-to-one. Would you like to play those odds?”
“Fuck you!” His cheek is smushed against the floor, his words muffled despite their vitriol.
“That won’t be happening.” I twirl my knife in one hand while I aim Danny’s gun at his head, standing out of reach. “In fact, if you’d like to leave here with any of your men, I suggest you follow my next instructions to the letter.”
He growls. Because that’s all he can do.
I smirk. “Pat will relieve you of your weapons while you stay still, and when they’re done, I will walk you out at gunpoint. If one of your men attacks me or my family, you die. If you attack me or my family, you die. If you insult me, I will stab you.” I spin my knife again to illustrate just how comfortable it is in my hands. “Whoever is alive may carry out whoever is injured. Your dead will be returned to you unmarred, like I said.”
Marcus Accardi, face as red as his father’s and squished against the carpet and trussed up like the pig he is in Pat’s grip, glares at me with the promise of violence. And the resignation of defeat.
“Do you understand?” I funnel as much condescension into my tone as I can physically muster.
He nods.
Pat immediately frisks him, yanking a gun out of his waistband. The gunfire in the house beyond has lessened, butcrackles sporadically. I don’t look away from Marcus, watching his hands as Pat drags him to his feet.
“Mother, call the doctor,” I say. She doesn’t answer, but I hear her heels dart across the room. Father will likely be okay, barring any internal damage and only if we leave the knife in his gut until the doctor arrives.
Marcus stands with his hands held up in a facsimile of surrender. I aim my gun at his head, Pat already holding theirs at the base of his neck.
“Accompany us?” I offer Tamayo, refusing to look away from Marcus for even a millisecond.
“Darius,” Tamayo calls, “clear a path.”
