Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I continue to stare at the man who’s been responsible for thousands of deaths, the moment feeling kind of anti-climactic.
CIARA
I’m sitting out on the veranda, staring up at the stars when I hear Pedro snap, “The shower can fucking wait. Getting rid of the blood isn’t going to make the shock any less for Ciara. I hope she kicks your fucking ass.”
Darting up from Santiago’s favorite armchair, I hurry into the house, and when I see the blood, my body goes ice cold.
“Mi amor,” Santiago says, quickly rushing toward me. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
My lips part when I see the gunshot wound, and I cry, “You got shot!”
He grins at me. “You should see the other guy. Pedro kicked his ass.”
“You got shot,” I repeat the words, and then I grab hold of his good arm and pull him to the living room. I shove him onto a couch, and look at Pedro, “Get Dr. Pires! Why did you bring him here? He should be at the clinic.”
Pedro throws his arms into the air. “That’s what I told him, but he wanted to see you.”
Santiago keeps grinning, and I snap at him, “Wipe that grin off your face! This isn’t funny.”
“He’s enjoying the fucking attention,” Pedro mutters.
The next second, Dr. Pires comes running into the villa with Samuel, and I let out a breath of relief, while gesturing at Santiago’s arm. “He got shot!”
Dr. Pires shakes her head at Santiago as she takes a seat beside him. Samuel pulls a glass coffee table closer so she can set her bag down on it.
“Seriously,” she says, shaking her head again. “This would be so much easier had you come to the clinic.”
With his eyes locked on me, he tells her, “I had somewhere more important to be.”
I sink down to my knees by his legs and reach for his left hand, linking my fingers with his.
Dr. Pires gives Santiago an injection that has him saying, “I hope that’s better than the shit Dr. Antonio uses.”
“Of course,” she chuckles. “Only the best for you. It might make you drowsy, though.”
“That’s okay. Pedro can carry my ass to bed.”
“In your fucking dreams,” Pedro grumbles. He walks to a cabinet where there are various bottles of alcohol, and he pours amber liquid into a glass.
I watch as he downs the drink before I turn my attention back to Santiago’s arm that Dr. Pires is cleaning so she can see the wound.
“Eyes on me, mi sol,” Santiago says, and my eyes snap to him. He pulls his hand from mine and cups my cheeks.
“Hold still,” Dr. Pires mumbles.
The moment my gaze begins to move to his arm, Santiago says, “No. Eyes stay on mine. You don’t need to see that.”
I glare at him. “Then you should’ve gone to the clinic.”
The grin returns to his face, but only for a second before his features tighten. I dart up, and kneeling beside him on the couch, I wrap my arms around his head and press his face to my chest.
He lifts his hand and grips hold of my forearm while Dr. Pires digs around inside his arm.
Oh God.
I hold him tighter and tighter as she keeps digging, and when she finally pulls the bullet out, relief pours through me.
Santiago’s chuckle and words are muffled as he says, “I need to breathe.”
I quickly let go of him, but he keeps hold of my arm. He leans his head against the back of the couch and just stares at me.
When Dr. Pires is done stitching the wound and applying a bandage, she says, “Keep the arm dry until I check the wound again.”
I nod. “Okay.”
She takes a box of medication out of her bag and says, “Take two for pain when needed.”
“I don’t need them,” Santiago says, but I reach past him and take the box from her.
Samuel cleans everything while Dr. Pires gets up from the couch. “I expect to see you at the clinic, like everyone else in this village.”
“When?” I ask.
“Tomorrow morning at ten.”
“I’ll make sure he’s there,” I assure her.
“Thanks, Doc,” Santiago says while he climbs to his feet. “Let’s call it a night, guys.”
Samuel leaves with Dr. Pires, but when Pedro walks toward the front door, Santiago says, “Pedro.” He waits for his second-in-command to look at him. “I’ll always take a bullet for you. It’s my job to protect you, too, because I can’t lose you.”
The anger eases from Pedro’s face. “How about we just don’t get shot?”
Santiago smiles at him. “Sounds good.”
Pedro leaves, pulling the door shut behind him, so I grab hold of Santiago’s hand and drag him to our bedroom.
“I just want to shower, mi amor.”
I let go of his hand, and going into the bathroom, I switch on the faucets before I turn around and undo the buttons of his shirt.