by Xander Hades
“I made a mistake.” She kept her eyes down and bit her lip. This was the Deanna I knew, the shy awkward girl, who used to come to me when she’d gotten into scrapes she didn’t know how to get out of. I’d taken more than one whipping on her behalf.
The problem was, the ones doing the whipping now weren’t so kind or lenient as my father had been.
“You hired the wrong people,” I said, watching as Gus tore at some plant I hoped wasn’t poisonous. He lifted his head, purple flowers sticking out of each side of his mouth as he chewed. I wondered how he did it with that chunk of metal in his mouth.
I guessed you could learn to do a lot of hard things if you had to. Hardening your heart against beautiful women who tried to off mobsters was one of them. No way in hell was I going to fall for tears and trauma. Never again. My voice was harsh, but she needed to hear it straight. If I softened it, would she learn? “Yes, I know about that business in New Orleans. I also know that Benny is not a forgiving man.’
Her eyes were wide with shock, cheeks pink. Embarrassed? I hadn’t thought her capable of it. “How did you know?”
I jerked at the reins as Gus tried to wander over to a small tree, eyes intent on the bright leaves. “What you need to think about now is, if I can find out this fast, your Daddy will already know too.”
It hadn’t occurred to her. I could see her deflate as the ramifications settled in. “Michael, there’s something else. I should have told you long ago, but… I couldn’t.” She looked at me, a note of pleading in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something to me only just then her horse made this awful sound and stood right up.
I didn’t know horses could stand on their back legs, but hers did. She threw herself against the strong neck, one foot coming free of the stirrups which jounced against the animal’s sides. I thought she would fall but somehow she held on. The horse twisted as it came down, and something looked off on the other side, her foot seemed caught somehow at a weird angle. I didn’t have time to figure it out. When the horse finally had four feet on the ground again, it jumped and twisted again, landing so hard, I could feel my bones shake with the impact. Then it bolted.
Gus assumed that whatever would scare one horse should scare all horses. Either that, or he wanted to see what was going on on the other side of the field, right now. He shot off like he was attached to her horse’s tail while I fumbled with the straps that connected to his mouth, thankful I’d at least been holding them somewhat when we’d taken off. The problem was there was so much slack in them that all the pulling in the world had no effect until I’d reeled in what seemed like twenty feet of leather.
I yelled “WHOA” like I’d seen in the old movies and even when I had the reins right and pulled them back, he was having none of it. In fact, he pulled back, putting his head down and doing a little sideways dance of his own, nearly ripping the reins from my hands.
By now, Deanna had freed her foot and tried to turn her horse who slid on a muddy slope and went down. As it fell, Deanna flew off the saddle rolling. Gus got confused. Walking he understood, running he understood, but rolling around at high speeds didn’t make much sense to him, thank God and so he stopped and bounced around a lot like a little kid trying to hold his pee till he gets to a bathroom.
I jumped off feeling proud of myself for not landing like an old mail sack when Gus bumped into me and sent me sprawling down the slope, getting a face full of mud and winding up in a heap of dried leaves. I got on my feet cursing, showing off a whole slew of words I’d learned away at college, mostly from Rocky as he hadn’t had a grandmother who would whip him for creative use of the English language. I stomped around yelling at the horses until it occurred to me that one of them was injured. Namely, Deanna’s brown horse who had a bleeding ass and was still scared half to death.
All that yelling only served to put both horses in motion again, injuries notwithstanding. Last I saw of Gus was his tail, lifted like a proud banner behind him as he headed for the hills, or at least presumably his own barn where crazy mobsters couldn’t get to him. Even Deanna’s horse, injured though it was proved she still had plenty of run still in her, trailing Gus by a close second, ears back and looking like she’d climb right over him if he showed any sign of slowing.
I shook my head and limped over to where Deanna was lying half expecting her to be ready to curse me out or at least laugh at me. Only it took me a second to realize she wasn’t moving.
My heart stopped.
It had taken me a minute to put it all together. There had been nothing to scrape against the horse to make it bleed like that. In fact, it had looked a little like…
It was a stupid thought. Absolutely stupid.
But the horse had looked like it’d been shot.
What if the shooter had taken a second shot? What if Deanna was…dead?
I knelt next to her, bile rising in my throat until I saw she was breathing. Her ass in the air gave me plenty view as she’d torn her jeans. For that matter, her hindquarters were oozing blood same as the horses, only closer inspection showed that she’d landed hard on her phone and the broken screen had left her scored in what would be a very tender spot should she decide to go riding again anytime soon.
I checked her pulse and found it steady and strong. Thank God. A lump on her forehead gave reason for her unconscious state, which led me down a whole new line of thoughts involving traumatic brain injury. Concussion at the least.
And some insane hunter out firing shots at…
Wait.
Not a hunter. We would have heard the shots. Someone with a silencer.
Someone who intended harm. That had tried to kill her. Or me. Or us?
Angry and confused, I grabbed for my own phone, thinking to call for help but discovering that I was outside my service area. I cursed mobile service providers under my breath as I bent low over Deanna, thinking to protect her with my own body while I thought this through, thankful that we were in a low depression in the field, and that long grasses waved over our heads. So long as we didn’t move, we’d be invisible.
“C’mon DeeDee, I need you to wake up,” I whispered against her neck, settling her in my arms, praying for the first time in years.
Deanna moaned and gasped. It had to hurt, the way that bump was rising on her forehead. I suspect her ankle would likewise be a torment to her. They weren’t supposed to sit at that angle. And with that cut on her ass, sitting wouldn’t be an option for a few days. Dammit, but my girl was a mess.
She grabbed onto my shirt before she’d even opened her eyes fully. “Michael,” her words were a soft moan into my chest. “What happened?”
“Someone took a shot at us. Your horse was hit.”
“Is it ok?”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she’d asked, but it did. Maybe Deanna was growing some. Maybe she actually cared for the animal. I lifted my hand to smoothen the hair back from her forehead, carefully avoiding the swollen spot, maybe not so bad as I’d thought previously, but still looking painful to the touch.
“I couldn’t see much, but it looked superficial. Last I saw, they were both making a bee-line for the barn.” I spoke quietly, worried that our voices would carry.
“Michael, I started to say that…”
“Shh…Not now, ok? We’ve got a shooter and unless you’ve got some kind of pocket that isn’t in that tight pair of jeans, neither of us is carrying.”
“No!” She grabbed me with surprising strength. “Michael, listen to me. It never happened.” She stared at me so hard I began to wonder if she’d hit her head.
“Deanna,” I sighed and tried to explain while I waited for another bullet to bury itself in my back. “It happened, it’s ok, the horse will survive and so will we. Just let it…”
“Michael, shut up!” She bit her lower lip. “I never… I never cheated on you. I never slept around at school. There hadn’t been anyone but you… ever.”
If she’d pulled a machine gun out of her bra I couldn
’t have been more shocked. I even forgot the shooter. “But…you..”
The shooter must have gotten bored. Or maybe he figured that the silencer was taking the fun out of the game because he chose that moment to remind us that he was there. A loud CRACK and a clod of dirt exploded so close to us that it rained little pieces of mud and grass. I looked around and saw a clump of three trees huddled together like a little family unit. It wasn’t great, but at least it would make the aiming a lot harder.
Damn, but things were not looking good.
I put my right arm under her legs and my left under her shoulders. “Try to stay as small as possible, ok? If I go down, try to make it to those trees.”
“Michael, no,” she whimpered, eyes bright with pain and unshed tears. “You’ll be exposed.”
I stood and nearly dropped her as she twisted in my arms trying to see behind me. Fool girl. I ran full out for the trees, dodging back and forth the way they did in the movies. I heard another shot, but no dirt clods, no sign of how close he got. Another shot and the trees were within reach. Another shot and then I was in the middle of the mini forest and checking her for bullet holes.
“Are you hit?” Her fingers were frantic, tracing my face, my neck, my shoulders…I wouldn’t have minded if she’d kept going but reached out to steady her hands as I pulled her down behind some rocks, halfway into the scraggliest bush you ever did see.
“No, are you?”
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around my neck to kiss me. I swear I never wanted her to let go. Except I heard someone coming, thrashing through the brush, making enough noise that if I’d had a piece I could have shot blind and gotten him.
Deanna stiffened in my arms.
I shook my head at her, setting her back further behind me.
“Michael!”
I knew that voice. I popped my head up and squinted. “Rico!” I was never more happy to see anyone before in my life.
Except he wasn’t supposed to be there. Great move, idiot. What if he’s the one doing the shooting? It wouldn’t have been unheard of. People switched sides all the time. But Rico?
I ducked back down.
“You know him?” Deanna asked, her face relaxing despite the pain. Relief sending color back to pale cheeks.
“He’s one of mine. He’s my right hand.” I spoke uncertainly. Uneasy.
“So why are you looking around like you need a weapon?”
“How do I know it wasn’t him that shot at us? He’s just trying to get us in the open?”
“Michael.” Deanna sat up a little, tried to see past me. I put out a hand to push her back down, but she shook her head and brushed me aside. “You have to trust eventually.”
“It’s not something I’m good at,” I admitted, looking uneasily back through the trees. I didn’t hear him anymore. Either he hadn’t heard my cry, or had and was giving us time.
Or was lying in wait to kill us.
She lay there in the grass, her hair framing her face. “Some of that is my fault. But Michael, I never cheated on you. I’ve never had anyone but you.”
“But why?”
“Daddy and I… I discovered that I had been promised to Tony since I was like three. I thought you were in on the deal too, that you were… I knew that you and Tony were always at each other. I thought you were using me to hurt him. I’m sorry. I thought if I was a slut I could ruin Daddy’s plans and Tony wouldn’t want me and I could get back at you. I’m sorry”
I heard a snap and looked up to see Rico halfway to us. He’d holstered his gun and was empty-handed. I looked at her and back at Rico.
Trust.
I picked her up again and walked into the open. Rico stopped and looked at me.
“Fingers wants the girl,” he said.
Chapter 12
Deanna
“We got him,” Rico said grinning from ear to ear. “He gave up when we told him he was shooting at you, Michael. He said he didn’t know. He was just supposed to take her out.”
Being carried like a lost child pulled from a fire was humiliating. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. I was having the worst week in my life and now it felt complete.
But I had to admit, I didn’t mind being in Michael’s arms again. I just would have liked to be able to stand on my own two feet. It was going to a long time before I could do that again.
I had taken Michael horseback riding because he’d never been. I was being petty. Daddy taught me was to keep your opponent off-balance, and making a fool of him doing something I happened to be very good at had felt…well…good.
Only he was the one who’d put me off balance. I thought he’d die when he saw that pink mounting block, but he’d gamely gotten up on the horse, and then followed after me as though he hadn’t a care in the world. OK, I’d seen how he’d been clutching the saddle, but he’d let go and started actually riding with more guts than I’d given him credit for.
So maybe the truth was, I didn’t want Michael to be an opponent. I’d spent so many years being angry at him, thinking he knew all about the arranged marriage and suddenly finding out that all of it was news to him… I just felt horrible. I had wanted to hurt him on a personal level and I did.
The thing is, I didn’t actually order a hit on Fingers D’Marco. I probably should have said something there. I had only wanted him to know that the D’Angelos could reach him at any time. A little fear to get him back into the fold. So I’d ordered a “near-miss” of sorts. But the guys I sent didn’t make it. I felt kind of bad about that. It hadn’t occurred to me that they’d die when I’d sent them out. Suddenly everything that had looked so good on paper, didn’t look so good right here and now.
The question was, had Fingers done the very same thing to me that I’d tried to do to him, or was his man just that lousy a shot? Either way, I was bundled up in Michael’s arms and being carried like a bride through a long damn field with a raging headache, and foot turned out in a position only ballerinas can accomplish. So head to toe, I felt like a pretty big fucking failure.
Not surprised though that he could lift and carry me. He’d always been strong. Dragging me all the way back to the barn though was something of a Herculean effort, we had to have come at least a half mile before we’d been fired upon.
Still, Michael gave no sign of slowing down. That was stamina I didn’t know he had.
Stamina that brought to mind all kinds of activities. I buried my face against his shoulder, to hide my blush.
Thankfully Michael didn’t seem to notice. His man just kept chattering away a hundred miles an hour. He made my head throb just listening to him.
“We exchanged a few shots, I think someone’s called the cops, they’ll probably be there by the time we get back.”
“If they’re ours, no problem. If not, everyone plays stupid.” Michael said. His arms tightened around me as if he’d protect me with his dying breath if need be.
He would. He ran with you in his arms remember.
It was a heady thought. How was I supposed to process all this?
His man nodded. “Of course. Marty will keep ‘em busy till you get there. But, ah… Michael. This guy, this hitter, he’s got some very interesting things to say about New Orleans. Very interesting.”
“Keep the cops off him too,” Michael said. He shifted me a bit, the first indication that he might not be an invincible God. The wave of pain that ran over my buttock was intense. I gasped and he looked at me in concern.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stopping abruptly, bending his head low over mine in concern. “What hit?”
“I think I still have some glass shards in my ass.” I looked between him and his man, suddenly worried that I’d be dumped in an ambulance and left out of all of this. “I want to be there too. I want to hear the story.”
Michael and the man looked at each other and Michael nodded once. The other man walked on in silence then, no doubt following orders. I envied Michael and his man. It would have be nice to have so
meone working for you that just took your orders without that hesitation, that questioning look. Daddy’s men did that, but then Daddy was Dominic “Dinky” D’Angelo, who the hell was going to question him?
We continued in silence and reached the barn office. We arrived three minutes ahead of the police and five before the ambulance. Michael had all the men put the guns in a safe and put the guy that tried to kill me in a stall with old Diabolo. He went willingly, even crouched down when the cops showed up, which showed he was more afraid of Michael than of getting kicked.
I’d been around Diabolo. He should have worried more about being kicked.
The groomsmen were livid about my horse, though it was a fairly minor flesh wound. The bullet had only grazed her. On the other hand, looking at me and knowing they could get sued, they held it in and told the cops everything they knew. No one saw Michael’s guys, but the shooter was out there in the fields and blah, blah, blah.
No one saw anything and it was assumed somehow in the way things were told that some poacher had likely taken a potshot at us thinking my mare was a deer. There was a lot of muttering at that, especially when last names were given, but what could they do? The story was tight and no one was deviating from it. Finally, the cops had to leave. The paramedics were a bit more troublesome, wanting to take me to the hospital, but some fast talking on Michael’s part sent them on their way, so long as he promised that he would take me there immediately.
