“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.
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