My eyes pop open, my hand flying to my stomach as I gasp out loud. For the first time, it strikes me that without Julian’s intervention, Rosa and I might not have been the rapists’ only victims. If I had been brutalized, knocked around some more, there’s no telling what might’ve happened to the baby.
The terrifying thought steals my breath away.
I begin to shake again, fresh tears forming in my eyes. I don’t even know why I’m crying. Everything is fine. It has to be.
Clutching my purse, I focus on the door in the back. Any second now, Julian will walk through it with Rosa, and our lives will go back to normal.
Any second now.
The seconds tick by slowly. So slowly that it’s all I can do not to scream. I stare at the door until the tears stop and my eyes begin to burn from dryness. No matter how much I try, I can’t keep the dark imaginings away, and the fear inside me feels like it’s going to swallow me from within, eat away at me until there’s nothing left.
Finally, the door starts to creak open.
I jump to my feet, aches and pains forgotten, but then I recall Julian’s parting words.
He’s not the only one who might walk through that door.
Lifting the gun he gave me, I take aim with trembling hands and wait.
Chapter 26
Julian
As soon as I send my message to Lucas, I open the door and step out into the alley behind the club. Immediately, the smell of garbage hits my nostrils, mixing with the pungent odor of urine. It must’ve rained while we were inside because the pothole-ridden asphalt is wet, the light from a distant street lamp reflecting in the oily-looking puddles.
Reining in my violent rage and worry, I methodically scan my surroundings. Later I will let myself think about Nora’s tear-streaked face and how badly I fucked up, but for now I need to focus on saving Rosa.
I owe her and Nora that much.
I don’t see anyone nearby, so I wind my way through the dumpsters, heading toward the street. A few rats scurry away at my approach. I wonder if they can sense the thrum of violence in my veins, the lust for blood that intensifies with every step I take.
One death was not enough. Not nearly enough.
My footsteps echo wetly as I round the corner, turning onto a narrow side street, and then I see it.
Two figures struggling by a white SUV some thirty yards away.
I can see the yellow of Rosa’s dress as the man tries to drag her into the car, and black rage surges through me again.
Pulling out my knife, I sprint toward them.
I know the exact moment Rosa’s attacker sees me. His eyes widen, his face twisting with fear, and before I can react, he shoves Rosa at me and scrambles into the car.
I put on a burst of speed, managing to catch Rosa before she falls, and she clutches at me, sobbing hysterically. I try to soothe her while extricating myself from her clinging grip, but it’s too late.
The car starts up with a roar, and the tires squeal as Rosa’s assailant slams on the gas, escaping like the coward that he is.
Fuck. I stare after the disappearing car, panting. I know my men are stationed at the intersection ahead, but a public shootout would draw too much attention. Holding Rosa with one arm, I pull out my phone and tell Lucas to follow the white car.
Then I turn my attention to the sobbing woman in my arms.
“Rosa.” Ignoring the adrenaline pumping through me, I gently pull her away from me to view the extent of her injuries. One side of her face is swollen and crusted with blood, and there are scratches and bruises all over her body, but to my relief, I don’t see any broken bones. She looks so shaken, though, that I pitch my voice low, speaking to her as I would to a child. “How badly are you hurt, sweetheart?”
“He . . . they . . .” She seems to be incoherent as she stands there trembling, her dress ripped open, and I grit my teeth, fighting a fresh swell of fury. I can already see that whatever happened to her is not something she’ll easily get over.
“Come, sweetheart, let me take you back to Nora.” I keep my voice soft and soothing as I bend down to pick her up. Her shaking intensifies as I swing her up into my arms, and I clench my jaw tighter, walking back toward the alley as quickly as I can.
When we’re in front of the door to the club, I lower Rosa to her feet. Then, holding her elbow for support, I carefully usher her through the doorway.
We’re greeted by the sight of Nora pointing the gun in our direction. The second she spots us, however, her face lights up and she lowers the weapon.
“Rosa!” She drops the gun and runs across the room to us. “You got her, Julian! Oh, thank God, you got her!” Reaching us, she rises on her tiptoes and hugs me fiercely before wrapping her arms around Rosa and guiding her to the couch. I can hear her murmuring reassurances as Rosa clings to her, crying, and I use the opportunity to call for our car to come around to the alley.
A couple of minutes later, the car is ready.
“Come, baby. We have to go, get you both to the hospital,” I say softly, approaching the couch, and Nora nods, her arms still wrapped around Rosa’s shaking frame. My wife seems much calmer now, her earlier hysteria nowhere in sight. Still, I have to fight the urge to grab her and make sure she’s as all right as she seems. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge that Rosa will fall apart without Nora’s help.
Thankfully, my pet seems up to the task of dealing with her traumatized friend. That steel core I’ve always sensed within her has never been more evident than it is now. Even with the rage scorching my insides, I feel a flash of pride as I watch Nora get Rosa off the couch and lead her toward the exit into the alley.