Rome (Marked Men, #3)(81)

“Oh, and Rome.” I tried to focus on him but it was getting harder and harder to hold on to where I was at. Pain was starting to pull me apart at the seams and I wanted to scream. “Remy is an awesome name for either a little boy or a little girl. Just saying.”

I felt rather than saw him disappear, the warmth, the joy that was my brother, poofed away and I went crashing back to a body that was on fire with pain and flooding with blood in places there shouldn’t be blood.





CHAPTER 17



Cora


I didn’t remember much of anything after I hit the ground, all of Rome’s weight and bulk pressing me into the hard asphalt. One second I had been sitting in the car trying to figure out how to talk my way out of this mess and try to fix everything, and the next I was wide-awake in the middle of one of Rome’s nightmares.

I had sent the text letting him know I was outside the bar, and then I waited while I held my breath for him to answer me back. My big mouth had hurt the one person I never wanted to cause pain, and I needed to fix it. It didn’t matter if he ignored me. I would march right in that bar and make him talk to me. As it turned out, I was getting all worked up for no reason because it only took a minute until his unmistakable silhouette came out the door and he was making his way toward where I had parked. I was nervous, but more than that, I was filled with regret. I never should have held on to what Jimmy had done to me and used it as an excuse to keep my heart insulated from all the wonderful things Rome was trying to fill it up with.

I only made it past the hood of the Cooper when there was a sudden roar that sounded like it was right behind me. I went to turn my head to see what it was because it was so loud, but before I got my neck cranked all the way around, I was bulldozed to the ground and deafened by the repeated pop-pop that sounded like extra-loud fireworks. I hit the ground with a grunt and clung to Rome, because those blue eyes were huge in his face and a typhoon of panic and fear was working its way across the shimmering surface.

“Rome?” I said his name because he wasn’t moving and something warm and wet was seeping into his T-shirt where I was gripping it in my hands.

His mouth moved. He said my name on a gasp but no sound came out. Something coppery-smelling and hot landed on my cheek as it leaked out of his neck and splatted on my face. His eyes flickered like a flame going out, and the next thing I knew I was trapped completely under him as all his strength fled. His blood was covering both of us and starting to pool on the ground beneath us. I couldn’t get to my phone, couldn’t move, because even when he was unconscious, even when he was furious at me and hurt by my selfish and thoughtless words, he was still trying to keep me and our baby safe.

“Rome!” This time I screamed it and clutched at him. “You have to open your eyes. Come on, big guy.”

I was screaming his name over and over but he wouldn’t move, wouldn’t react. I’m sure we were only there for a minute, but it felt like an eternity until Asa’s blond head appeared over Rome’s prone form and he told me he had called the police and an ambulance was on the way. It took three of the regulars to move him off of me, in part because I refused to let him go. I was crying and had so much of his blood on my hands it made it hard for me to hold on to him as the regulars from the bar worked to separate us and put pressure on the gaping wounds that were spilling his life out onto the ground.

I think Asa put an arm around my quaking shoulders and tried to tell me everything would be all right, but I knew that was a lie. Through the tears and Rome’s blood smeared all across my face, I could see that his eyes were still closed and that his massive chest wasn’t moving up and down. He was going to die right in front of my eyes, and I was never going to get the chance to tell him that I loved him. I absolutely couldn’t let that happen.

I broke free of Asa’s grasp and ran to where people were trying desperately to stop him from bleeding. The entire side of his neck looked like raw hamburger, flayed open and gushing vital red onto the ground. I fell on my knees, not caring that the asphalt ripped my skin open, and put my hands on his cheeks.

“Rome, please open your eyes, please. I love you so much. I need you. Please, big guy.” I was sobbing and I doubted the words made any sense. Somewhere in the distance I finally heard the sounds of sirens screaming toward us. The ambulance was too far away to do him any good.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I just told him over and over again, trying to will him to breathe. Because it was true. Being scared of handing over my heart to him because I wasn’t sure what he would do with it had nothing on the choking fear that I would never get to tell him how I felt because he wasn’t going to make it. He had always been a hero, and right now I almost hated him as much as I loved him. If he hadn’t been so perfect, so honorable, so devoted to me and his child, he wouldn’t be lying in a puddle of blood. It was just wrong on so many different levels.

“Please don’t break my heart, Rome. I can’t do this without you.” Somewhere along the line, police and the ambulance crew arrived, and again I had hands trying to pull me away from him. I bent down and put my mouth to his. I cried even harder when I felt how cold his lips were.

I kissed him, tasting the salt of my tears and the iron burn of his blood, and whispered that I loved him again and again. I had to succumb to the impatient hands of the female paramedic that pulled me away from him. I couldn’t take my eyes off his deathly-still face and his unmoving chest.