Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) Page 11

  “Oh God,” Miranda said with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s get out of here before Dom’s ego crowds us out.” I flipped her off too and she laughed.

  We were getting way off track, so I sat back down and reined everybody in. It was decided that Dante and Joey D. would split Grant’s responsibilities while he was away with Miranda and I would oversee operations at Crimson. Everyone knew what their roles were at the club, so it would be a cake walk.

  As we were getting ready to leave, Miranda suggested I grab Natalie and meet up with her and Grant the next day. “We’re going shopping n Jersey to do some shopping, maybe get something for the baby’s room. You should come.”

  “I’ll find out from Nat and let you know.”

  Miranda was walking next to me down the hallway when she gasped. Concerned, I stopped, expecting to find her in pain, but instead her face was lit up with a brilliant smile and her hand was stretched across her stomach, which had grown since the week before.

  “What is it?” Grant rushed to her side, pushing me out of the way. He automatically wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against him. Miranda looked up at him with glistening eyes.

  “I just felt the baby move.”

  “You did?” He placed his hand over hers.

  “It was weird; a slight flutter, like I was being tickled with a feather from the inside.”

  “The quickening isn’t that what the doctor called it?”

  She nodded, her smile growing wider. “It’s early to experience it at fifteen weeks, but not impossible,” she said.

  They stayed like that, tucked against each other, sharing the moment; looking both bewildered and content. I remembered what a dick I was to Grant when we first met, how threatened I was by his presence when he was just trying to figure things out and find his place. Seeing him with Miranda now, I knew he had figured it out – find that someone to share your life with and hold on tight because you never knew what was coming at you next.

  Chapter 15

  Natalie

  My cell phone chirped, alerting me to a new text. It was from Grant letting me know they were waiting out front. I grabbed my bag and quickly left the hotel room. Dom had called the night before and we made arrangements to go shopping with Grant and Miranda.

  Grant’s car was parked off to the side and I slid into the backseat behind him. Dominic was sitting next to me, behind Miranda.

  “Hi!” I said and buckled my seatbelt. Miranda said hi back as she messed around with the radio.

  “Hey,” Dom said. “Did you have a good day yesterday?”

  “I did – met up with some friends from school for dinner and drinks.”

  “Any more visits from Agent Phillips?” Grant asked, making eye contact with me through the rearview mirror. I scowled at Dominic and he shrugged.

  “No,” I answered.

  We drove over the Ben Franklin Bridge to New Jersey making small talk along the way. I stared out at the glistening river below. A tug boat was hauling a barge and several other smaller boats left trails of churned up murky water in their wake. Grant navigated through the mid-day traffic and we passed run down strip malls, liquor stores and car dealerships, each one improving as we moved further away from Camden until we were passing a Land Rover dealership and five star restaurants. The scenery became greener too, more grass and less concrete.

  Grant parked by the entrance to Nordstrom’s and we all walked in together. We wandered through various stores, Grant and Miranda buying all sorts of baby clothes and gear. They had definitely been stuck with baby fever and after looking at all of the cute miniature shoes, even my uterus began to ache. It was time to branch off and Dominic agreed so we left, arranging to meet Grant and Miranda at the food court in an hour.

  We stopped by Foot Locker and each picked up a pair of running sneakers since they were having a buy one get one half off sale. At checkout, Dom handed cash over to pay for everything.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Um, paying for the sneakers?”

  “Here,” I tried handing him $30.00 to cover my share and he refused, turning back to the cashier for his change. “Dom, take it. I don’t expect you to pay for those.”

  “Too late,” he said with a wink and grabbed the handles of the shopping bag. He started to leave the store, but I jumped ahead to stand in front of him.

  “I don’t want you to pay for them. Take the damn money!” I stood with one hand on my hip and the other extended out, holding the bills.

  “What’s the big deal? I’ve bought you things before.” He glared at me, his green eyes narrowed. Other shoppers in the store looked over in our direction and I knew we were creating a bit of a scene. Honestly, I was watching my funds now that I was in the final few days of my trip, but I didn’t want to be dependent on Dom or anyone for that matter. Soon I’d be back in L.A. serving drinks at Dirty and making enough to get by. Unless I took Dom up on his offer of opening a gallery, but even then that required money and I’d never managed a business, let alone owned one before. The interview for the teaching position was just that, an interview and not a sure thing. Either option made me dependent on Dom.

  Changing tactics, I loosened my body stance and softened the tone of my voice. “Please Dom, I need to do this. It’s important to me.”

  He shook his head and groaned. “Fine, I’ll take your money.” He took the cash out of my hand and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans. “God you’re stubborn,” he muttered as we walked out of the store and I laughed, looping my arm through his.

  It was almost time to meet up with Grant and Miranda so we headed over to the food court. I conceded and let Dom buy me a frozen yogurt without argument and this caused him to shake his head again. “You’re a pain in the ass, but a fucking hot pain in the ass,” he teased, smacking me on the butt as we left the counter. Giggling, I turned to face him, pulling the spoon slowly out of my mouth after eating a bite. I flicked my tongue out to snag a drop of yogurt off of my lip. His eyes zeroed in on this movement and his nostrils flared as he watched.

  I loved teasing him because of reactions like this and I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted Dom, bad, and every time my body came in contact with his it practically hummed from the attraction. I thought about the kiss we shared the other day when I wore nothing but a towel and felt my cheeks flush. Maybe I was fighting a useless fight. My body and my heart knew what it wanted, yet I resisted. Part of me argued that I was too comfortable around Dom and that made me complacent. No matter what, inevitably relationships always ended in hurt whether from death at a ripe old age or a betrayal. I was reminded of Jason’s attempt at forcing me into a witness protection arrangement with the FBI and how my first love in high school devastated me when he cheated on me at a house party then distributed pictures of a portrait he painted, where I was the nude subject. I still got a plummeting sensation in my stomach whenever that humiliation resurfaced.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a series of loud pops followed by total chaos. People started screaming and running for the exit by the food court, trampling over those who had tripped and fallen onto the white tile floor. I scanned through the crowd of shoppers, searching for Grant and Miranda. That’s when I saw the gunman. He was slowly and methodically moving toward the food court. The man was unshaven and had graying hair that stuck out in all directions like he had been caught in a windstorm. He was dressed all in black and held a semi-automatic rifle in his arms that he was firing in a sweeping motion, spraying bullets in a wide swath and mowing people down as they attempted to run away from him. I froze, my eyes desperately scanning for Grant. His height usually made him stand out in a crowd.

  “Natalie, move!” Dominic shouted, grabbing my arm. My frozen yogurt fell to the floor as Dom pushed me behind a pillar. “Stay here,” he ordered and turned away, dropping to a crouch behind one of the palm tree like plants surrounding a fountain. He drew his weapon, a hand gun he kept in a small-of-back holster. I followed his line of sight, where he w
as aiming for the gunman, but there were too many people around, preventing him from getting a clean shot.

  Screams of fear and pain were amplified by the high ceilings, creating a gut wrenching song. Then there were the people who had been silenced forever. They lay still in pools of blood, their eyes staring unblinking at the glaring fluorescent lights overhead. I surveyed the food court looking for Grant and saw people hiding under tables, whimpering and shaking, strangers trying to comfort one another. Then I caught a glimpse of lime green, the color of Grant’s shirt. He lay on top of Miranda, shielding her for the spray off bullets that seemed to be coming from every direction. My eardrums vibrated with the percussion and I shrieked as a bullet hit the pillar near my head. Shards stung my face like I had a hundred paper cuts, but I only worried about my eyes, as I held a hand up to protect them as I watched the gunman move closer to my brother.

  The gun in Dom’s hand caused another layer of panic. Gunfire and screams echoed off the high ceilings, making my ears ring. I covered them with my hands and lowered to a squat by the pillar; leaning against the cold stone chilled me even more. If only I had a gun too, I’d be able to help. Unfortunately my piece, a gift from Victor, one of the enforcers for the LA mob, was back in my apartment in California. Dom didn’t know I had been going to a shooting range with Victor and that I was damn good shot.

  Screams were reduced to moans, whimpers, and children crying. People weren’t running around anymore. They’d either found refuge or were on the floor bleeding. There were several bodies on the floor that weren’t moving, but whenever the shooter did spy movement, he blasted a round of bullets into the body. The gunman moved into Dom’s line of sight and he finally had his opening. With deadly precision, Dom fired. A decisive bang, louder than the others brought an end to the rain of gunfire. The shooter collapsed and his automatic weapon slipped free of his hand clattering to the tile floor.

  An eerie calm fell over the area, the moans and cries of the injured almost muted under this blanket of silence. Then in fast forward, reality came crashing down and I became aware of Miranda shrieking. She was on her back, on the floor near Panda Express, pinned beneath Grant, who wasn’t moving.

  “Grant!” Miranda screamed. “Somebody help!” Her voice cracked as she struggled under his dead weight, trying to push him off. Dead weight? No, no, no. Not Grant. This broke through my shock and I ran over to my brother. His green t-shirt was soaked with blood and I saw three distinct holes burned through the fabric on his back.

  “Dominic, I need your help! Someone call 911!” I know I wasn’t the first to call that out, but I had to feel useful because otherwise I felt completely useless.

  Dom appeared next to me and crouched down. “He’s breathing, but barely,” I said. Grant’s lungs had taken on a whistle as he struggled to inhale like he had emphysema. Dominic rolled Grant off of Miranda who was beyond hysterical and covered in her husband’s blood; something a newlywed of three days shouldn’t experience. Her face was flushed with exertion and tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with blood splatter, turning them a pinkish hue. She was holding her abdomen as she curled over Grant, seizing his hand, her knuckles turned white from the death grip.

  Grant’s skin had taken on an ashy pallor and his breathing had become more erratic, long gaps between breathes left me counting the seconds, almost like if I was tracking contractions.

  “Only two of the wounds are through and through,” Dom said.

  “What does that mean?” I ask, trying to console Miranda.

  “It means he still has a bullet in his body.”

  Grant exhaled weakly and a trail of blood trickled out from his mouth. He didn’t take another breath. “Shit!” Dom checked Grant’s pulse and looked up at me. “Do you know CPR?” I shook my head.

  At that moment, a symphony of sirens outside announced the arrival of help. First responders poured into the food court; a sea of navy blue and fluorescent yellow.

  Dominic called out to them for assistance. I noticed a few people pointing in our direction and two officers approached us. I expected them to help and was surprised when they hauled Dominic to his feet. They immediately confiscated his firearm, sealing into an evidence bag.

  “Do you have a license to carry in the state of New Jersey?” One of the officers asked.

  “No, but I do for Pennsylvania,” Dom answered.

  “Sorry son, that doesn’t transfer to our state. I hate to do it, but you’re under arrest for illegal possession of a firearm.” The officers spun Dominic around and read him his rights as he was handcuffed.

  “What are you doing?” I screamed at the officers. “He didn’t do this, he ended it!” I secretly hoped that this tragedy had nothing to do with us.

  “Nat, don’t,” Dom said, his stern tone cutting right through my burgeoning hysteria. “Stay with your brother and call Dante. Tell him what happened, he’ll know what to do. Don’t worry about me.”

  I hesitated, torn between rectifying an injustice and helping Grant. “Natalie, go,” Dom said and I was grateful for his ability to remain calm during an unraveling situation. Turning back to Grant, I saw that three EMTs were already attending to him. One was attempting to resuscitate while another threaded an IV and yet another tended to Grant’s wounds, focusing on slowing the bleeding. Miranda stood off the side watching, her arms crossed over her midsection as tears continued to fall. I crossed the crime scene to stand next to her and we clasped hands, gripping tight to each other. Seconds seemed like minutes as we waited for the heart monitor to show signs of life. Grant’s chest rose and fell, but not on its own accord, only through the EMT’s efforts.

  Finally, after excruciating moments, there was a blip on the monitor and then another. I exhaled with relief, not realizing I had been holding my breath. Miranda gasped and reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze before doubling over.

  “Miranda! What’s wrong?”

  Color drained from her face and her eyes became wide green circles. “The baby!”

  Sweet Jesus, was the building going to collapse next? Another EMT rushed over to Miranda. I turned around for Dominic and saw him being led through the double doors of the exit next to Taco Bell, his hands secured behind his back, silver handcuffs gleaming from the overhead fluorescent lights.

  The one female EMT who had been treating Grant’s wounds approached me. “Ma’am, are you related to him?” she asked, gesturing at my brother, who was being moved onto a stretcher.

  “Yes, I’m his sister and she’s my sister-in-law.” Another stretcher was being wheeled towards Miranda.

  “Who do you want to ride with? We can’t take them both in one ambulance.”

  I knew Grant needed me more and this time I didn’t hesitate, immediately climbing in as soon as his stretcher was secure inside the ambulance. A saline bag swung from its stand, a steady drip being fed into Grant’s arm. I buckled myself into a small seat out of the way of the EMT monitoring his vitals.

  “Can you give me some information?” the EMT asked. He had a notebook size laptop on his lap when he spun around to face me.

  “Yes, of course, whatever you need.”

  He started by asking me what Grant’s full name was and date of birth, followed by any allergies, blood type and a brief medical history. Grant was allergic to penicillin, I knew that much, and that he had broken his wrist when he was twelve years old.

  He made some more notes, his fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard. “Does your bother have a living will or do you now if he’s an organ donor?”

  “What? My brother is going to be okay, right?” Grant’s color still hadn’t improved and his breathing was aided by an oxygen mask.

  “He’s lucky to be alive right now, miss, and I’m sorry for the questions. As scary as they may seem, I’m required to ask them.” He turned his attention back to Grant and that’s when all hell broke loose again. Grant’s heartbeat on the monitor starting bleeping erratically and then it was gone. Seconds passed and just a f
latline streamed across the screen.

  Chapter 16

  The EMT swore and immediately went back to work trying to resuscitate. I held my breath and my nails dug into the bare skin of my thighs as I fought to restrain myself. I wanted so desperately to be by Grant’s side, but knew I’d only be in the way. The driver stepped on the gas and sirens wailed over our heads as the ambulance went into overdrive. The steady drone of the heart monitor drilled into my head and I wanted to scream to get the sound out. I don’t know how much time passed, but finally a heartbeat registered and then another just as the ambulance pulled in front of the Emergency Room. A team of medical professionals was waiting outside and went to work as soon as the ambulance doors sprung open. I stood off to the side as they hoisted the stretcher out and pushed it inside. Blood had already seeped through the white cotton blanket draped over Grant and I watched helplessly as they rushed him through another set of doors into the surgical unit.

  The emergency department buzzed around me and I stared at the doors where I wasn’t allowed entry. I vaguely remember a nurse guiding me to a blue plastic chair in the waiting room. Not even two minutes later the doors burst open again and Miranda was wheeled in. She was moaning and clutching her abdomen.

  “We need an ultrasound STAT, which bay is open?” The female EMT from the mall barked out.

  I stood up and followed them into an empty bay where they transferred Miranda to a bed and closed the privacy curtains. If I couldn’t be by Grant’s side right then, I was going to be there for his wife and unborn child.

  “Nat,” Miranda held out her hand. It was cold and clammy when I grasped it. “How’s Grant?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. They took him right in for surgery.” She closed her eyes and a tear slid out from beneath, getting trapped in her long lashes. A radiology tech wheeled in an ultrasound machine. I held onto Miranda’s hand as the imaging wand was rolled over a barely noticeable baby bump. The tech left saying the doctor would review the images, but couldn’t give us a timeframe. Just as she was leaving, a nurse came in to give Miranda an injection that helped the contractions to ease.