Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
"In a moment? A moment? What could be more important than going to the hospital to be there for your son who was just shot? Multiple times?"
But then a car pulled up, and out unfolded Detective Lloyd who I'd needed to talk to about my sister a several days before.
"I'm not going to incriminate anyone," I hissed close to Antony's ear, trying to yank away, but his grip was too tight."
"I didn't say you were. Lloyd," he greeted, nodding.
"I heard about Luca. I hope he's alright."
"Well, maybe he would know that if he would go to the hospital to see. Like a normal human being would," I snapped, getting a raised brow from Lloyd.
"Romina, it looks like you were hit too. We need to get someone to—"
"For fuck's sake," I snapped, making his head jerk back. "I don't know how many times I need to say I'm fine. But I'm fine. And can we all please just focus on the fact that Luca is shot and no one seems to give a shit enough to go with him to the hospital?"
"Lucky and Matteo are already en route," Antony told me.
"And they're a replacement for his father?" I shot back, shooting daggers at him, and I didn't even care that he was the boss of the local mafia.
"Alright, Romina. If you are refusing treatment, we have a few questions to ask," Lloyd started.
"For Miss Moreno?" another voice joined our little post-shoot-out party. Looking to my side, I saw an impossibly tall and strongly-built Black man in a deep blue suit, his bald head catching the light, his dark eyes on Lloyd. "My client?" he added, glancing at me, then Antony.
Oh.
Oh.
"Bishop, thank you for coming," Antony said, finally releasing me. "Romy, this is Bishop Blake. He will stay here with you. While I go sit with my son in the hospital," he added, and I couldn't tell what his tone was, if he was mad at me for calling him a shitty parent. And, what's more, I genuinely didn't give a damn right about then.
"Is she going to be allowed to say anything?" Detective Lloyd asked, looking defeated.
"I'm sure Miss Moreno will give you a full and accurate account of the unfortunate events that transpired here tonight," Bishop agreed, moving closer to my side. "Has my client been offered medical assistance?" he asked, glancing down at my arm, and I could feel the blood dripping off my hand. Though, I had no idea if it was mine or Luca's, or a combination of both.
"You go ahead and suggest that to her," Lloyd invited, a little amused given the very serious situation. I didn't know what he had seen in a town like Navesink Bank, but it had clearly hardened him a bit to the horrors that people could inflict on one another.
"I shot my sister," I admitted, numbly, realizing I hadn't even looked to see if she was still alive, if she had been carted away in an ambulance too.
"Miss Moreno clearly acted tonight in self-defense," Bishop interjected.
"Yeah, we get it. She did nothing wrong. You are going to make sure that everyone knows that. We've done this dance more than a few times before, Blake. Can we dispense of the formalities?" Lloyd asked.
"I'm afraid that the formalities are paramount in situations such as this, Detective," Bishop insisted.
"Fine. Let's get on with it," Lloyd said, sighing.
My brain felt foggy, thick and hard to pull any coherent thoughts out of the ooze. I think I explained about Luca forgetting his phone, about my sister showing up, about us arguing, about Luca coming back, trying to deescalate the situation.
And then Celenia pulled a gun.
And Luca and I took turns trying to protect each other.
The rest, I trailed off, waving a hand around—they could see for themselves.
There was a clicking sound, drawing all our attention to the side where we watched another stretcher being led out of the back of an ambulance, making a beeline for a shadowed body on the ground, getting a head shake from the female officer.
Bishop and Lloyd looked back at me, both their eyes a mask of concern as the truth settled on me.
I had killed her.
I killed my sister.
It felt like the ground was pulled out from under me, like I was falling.
And then, I guess, I actually was, because Bishop's arms grabbed me, steadied me.
"As you can see, my client clearly needs medical assistance," he insisted. "There will be time for questioning later."
I wasn't fully aware of a lot that happened after.
I was led over to an ambulance.
I was shuffled inside, had hands on me. Then we were moving, driving across town.
I was wheeled into an emergency room and immediately into a room.
There were shots and needles and pain medicine strong enough to knock me out.
When I woke up an indeterminate time later, I shot up out of the bed, ripping the blood pressure monitor off my finger, flying off the bed, going for the door, finding Bishop Blake standing there.