chapter sixty

My eyes were still hazy, but as I edged closer, I could see a blood rose bloomed, staining the white of her silk shirt.

Nieto’s shot. The one that went wide.

Laying Jo face up on the floor, I ripped open her shirt. I placed my hands over the wound, pressing hard to keep her from bleeding out. A wound to the gut shouldn’t bleed out this fast. But Jo was pregnant. More blood vessels had grown there to feed the baby. Jo looked at me. Her face chalk white, an ocean of blood spread all around us.

I grabbed her hands, but her grip was so weak. “Eddie.” Her hands loosened. And just like that she was gone.

As the paramedics rushed in and pushed me away, I sat there like a stone, helpless, staring at Jo, willing her to open her eyes and breathe again.

All my life I thought I was in control . . .

Then the adrenaline shakes started. I couldn’t keep my balance. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor. My head burned. The haze clouding my vision was growing thicker. Jo’s face, the face I loved so much was fading. A wave of nausea flooded through me as my whole life unwound.

Then there was only darkness.