Three Years(35)

“Mickey,” Jase says reluctantly. “You shoulda stayed out of this, man.”

“Protecting the bitch who killed our brothers? What the fuck does that make you?” the voice behind Jase asks. Mickey, who, like Donny, refused to die in the blast that ripped through their motorcycles. I still don’t understand how they survived the explosion that should have wiped them all out.

“It makes him a fuckin’ traitor,” Dornan says angrily. He digs his gun deeper into my temple, almost enough to break the fragile skin there. Ow.

I glance at Elliot, who everyone seems to have forgotten, and notice he has a target on Dornan’s head. He raises his eyebrows slightly at me then looks at the floor for a deliberate second.

I think he’s asking me to duck. But I don’t know when. I see him change his aim slightly, without making it obvious, and as he winks at me, two things happen. Firstly, an explosion impossibly close to my ear, as Elliot shoots the gun right out of Dornan’s hand. Dornan is flung back dramatically, and before he can take me with him, I drop to my knees, crawling out of the way. In the perhaps two seconds that have elapsed since Elliot shot Dornan in the hand, he’s shifted his aim to Mickey and pulled his trigger a second time, sending the guy backward, spraying his blood all over Jase. Dornan’s howling. His hand is useless and mangled, and his gun on the floor. He snatches it up before Elliot can get off another clean round, aiming right back at him.

I crawl toward Elliot, who’s closer than Jase and not blocked by Dornan. I try not to put my hands in Emilio’s blood, but it’s almost impossible to avoid; the stuff is spreading over the floor so quickly. Gross.

“Pop,” Jase says, his gun still leveled at his father. “Drop the gun. It’s over.”

Dornan addresses his youngest son with barely controlled rage. “I don’t think so,” Dornan says. “I’ll shoot this fucker before you can get a round off, I guarantee you.”

“Don’t shoot him!” I cry at Dornan, referring to Elliot. Dornan shifts his aim to me in the blink of an eye, and suddenly I’m on my knees, my hands covered in Emilio’s sticky blood, with a gun trained on me. Great. And here I was, thinking I was almost free.

“You won’t shoot me,” I say, glaring at Dornan. “I’ve got something you want.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You just try and fuckin’ run, and see how fast I blow your brains out, baby girl.”

I swallow thickly, believing him. It doesn’t matter that he thinks I’m having his baby. He’ll shoot me point-blank without another thought.

Dornan shakes his head, as if something hilarious has just occurred to him. “You know,” he says to Jase, “I’m surprised she took you back after you told her about how her daddy really bit the big one.”

Jase shifts uncomfortably on his feet, his aim still locked on Dornan. “Shut up, old man, before I end you.”

Something about the way Jase is reacting worries me. “What’s he talking about?” I ask Jase. He glares at his father in response. “Nothing. He’s just fucking with your head.”

“Juliette,” Dornan asks in mock sympathy, “would you like to know who really killed your daddy?”

My blood runs cold as I look from father to son, perplexed.

“I already know who killed him, you asshole. You shot him in the head, and then you made everyone believe it was him who killed Mariana. I know it was you who killed both of them.”

Dornan laughs, his gun still pointed at my head. “It’s true, I killed that bitch, and she fuckin’ deserved it, too. I’ve never lied to you, Juliette. Believe me when I say, I didn’t kill your father.”

Jase’s eyes dart between his father and me, Elliot shifting minutely beside me.

“Tell her, son. Tell her what you did.”

Stunned, I stare at Jase, waiting for him to deny it.

But he doesn’t.

“Tell me he’s lying,” I say to Jase. “Tell me he’s lying and fucking shoot him.”

He doesn’t tell me anything. He just stares at his father, sweat and rage pouring from him.

“Say something!” I implore Jase. He looks at me with broken eyes, eyes that have seen the darkest depths of hell and lived to recount the tale.

“It’s not what you think,” Jase finally manages. His attention diverted to me, Dornan chooses that exact moment to let off a round toward Elliot. I scream, hitting the dirt as Jase tackles Dornan in a flurry of punches and a struggle for Dornan’s gun. Two more shots ring out, and then someone is lifting under my arms, dragging me away. I don’t struggle—I’d know Elliot’s embrace anywhere, and I sag into him as we run for the door, making tracks as fast as we can. We get to a van a short way down the driveway and he pushes me into the passenger seat, starting the engine and burning rubber as he drives straight through the padlocked front gates, sending wrought iron and chains flying.