Page 91 of Summer Heat
CHAPTER THREE
The woman ran to the open driver’s door, actively ignoring the men, hiding her face. Too damn late. Cash and Roman sprang for the open rear door, pancaking one on top of the other on the backseat as the woman slammed the driver’s door.
Pulling off of Roman, Cash slapped his hand around the car ceiling, searching for the dome light switch.
Click. Dull light illuminated the truth.
The gun pointed toward the backseat, but the woman still didn’t look at them, avoiding their stares. He could easily disarm her. Roman could too. Neither did.
“Nicola?” Roman rasped again.
Her arm trembled, vibrating the gun as she flipped the safety into place, but her finger stayed at the ready. “Please get out. Just go,” she whispered.
That was her voice. It had been her face. Cash looked at Roman. No, he didn’t know. The man was as dumbstruck and hurting as he was. All they could see was the back of a bloody shoulder and arm and leaves sticking in messy hair.
Rocco approached the open door by Roman, perhaps not seeing the showdown. “What’s doing?”
They ignored him.
“Nicola.” Roman’s voice cracked. “Am I going nuts?”
Cash looked at Roman and saw the confusion tearing his world apart, just like it had his. He wore the evidence on his hardened face.
Her unsteady arm lowered, placing the gun on the front console. Her ratty-haired head dropped, and then the face Cash used to adore eyed them both. Her bottom lip quaked, and her eyes spilled tears.
She closed them, and more tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Roman busted out his door, knocking Rocco over in the process. He could have torn it off its hinges. The man wouldn’t have cared. The driver’s door flew open, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling his baby sister tightly to his chest. Cash had no idea what words came out of Roman’s mouth. It wasn’t his place to listen.
Their tender moment was shut down when she pushed him off. “Are you here to take me out?”
No one breathed a word. Cash couldn’t understand her involvement with Antilla Smooth and couldn’t bear breaking it to Roman that he’d seen her all over the warmonger. It tore his heart apart all over again, just like the day they’d lost her.
But they hadn’t lost her. She was alive and sitting in front of him.
Nicola spoke up again. “Who do you work for?”
What is she talking about?
Roman seemed to read his mind. “Nic, what are you talking about?”
“Why are you here?”
“You’re alive. Let’s start there.”
“Go away, Roman. It’s better this way. If you’re not here to—”
“What are you talking about? You’re alive. You’re coming home. Mom and Dad… they, we buried you. We—”
“You have to leave. Now. If I can’t have the car—” She tried to get past him, but he locked her against his chest. “Let go. Damn you, Roman. You don’t understand. We can’t be here.”
“You’re in trouble. We can help. We can fix this.”
She moved before either Roman or Cash could react. Gun in hand, pressed against her brother’s chest. “I love you,” she sobbed. “Don’t make me.”
Roman backed up, hands in the air. “Who are you? What’s happened to you?” The tenor of his voice was clear. He’d moved on from shock to fury. At least Roman was catching up with Cash in the what-the-fuck department.
“Go away,” she hissed, wiping at tears with the back of her hand.
