“No!” she cried as a hot spray splattered her skin. Santo was dragging her through the swinging doors when something slammed into her from behind and she stumbled. Excruciating pain exploded through her, and Santo was all that kept her from falling.
He shouted something, but she couldn’t make out the words through the screeching agony. The pain became an entity that owned her.
She looked down to see that blood covered her pink Love’s T-shirt and bubbled when she tried to suck in a breath. She’d been shot. Just like Reece . . . Her thoughts blurred and her knees gave.
Santo swept her into his arms as he raced across the dining room, charging into the bug-infested night. Roxanne felt herself slipping, hurtling toward a black unknown that felt ominously familiar. They’d met before, Roxanne and death, and she knew that in the darkness, she’d find someone waiting. He always waited, that nameless, faceless presence that welcomed and terrified her at once.
Santo called her name, and for a moment she was back with him, looking into his eyes, trying to read what she saw there. What did he have to do with all of this? In a sliver of lucidity, her mind connected a dot she didn’t understand. Before she could decipher the hidden meaning, it was gone again.
She thought of her older brother and sister and began to cry.