geeze this took longer that it should have. but there will be more to come tonight, so keep your inbox(s) open and ready to check for notifications.
Oh, and, Feliz Navidad mi amigos! Merry Christmas to all! Buon Natale! Best wishes for a great 25th!
~ Fhyre
II
I raised my hands in mock surrender and retorted, "Is that really a gun or are you just happy to see me?"
The gun pressed further into my shirt, followed by the gentle, resonating click of the hammer being pulled back. "Cut the sarcasm, dumb shit." The man whispered fiercely with a light French-Canadian accent. "Turn around slowly and walk back in."
Was this guy for real?
"You know, that's a horrible place to stick a gun."
"Wha-"
I spun around, grabbed the firearm – a Colt rifle – and bashed the side of the barrel into the man's nose. I expected him to fall, maybe clutch his face in pain... but no, he came right back to land an uppercut punch to my stomach.
I doubled over in pain, dropping the rifle. The man grabbed the firearm before it even hit the ground and brought it back over shoulder slightly, then swung it like a baseball bat to my head.
Darkness edged my vision as I collapsed to the ground, half-conscious. I saw a pair of shoes come closer and closer until they stopped in front of me. The cold barrel of the rifle wedged itself under my chin and pushed up, raising my head to look at the man in the eye.
"Pull that again, and my face'll be the last thing you see."
And then my vision went black.
"I won't do it."
"But Gio, I thought you were a hunter."
"Yes, but I'm not suicidal."
"They're just werewolves. You've dealt with them."
"Not in packs of twenty I haven't."
"Take the deal, Colucci."
"And if I don't?"
My head throbbed in tempo to my heartbeat, pulsing in my ears and temple. A small pressure on my chest told me someone had their foot on it, keeping me down.
"The boy gets it."
I cracked an eye open, peering up at the man who had previously knocked me out and was now pointing the same gun at my face. His stance, though, was slack, easily breakable.
Giovanni stood a good few feet away, tensed and angry. "He has nothing to with this."
"Well, he does now," Thomas replied, leaning against the front counter.
Giovanni thought for a moment – I could tell he was weighing his options – and suddenly faltered. He looked back at Boutreau, defeat showing in his features. "Fine. You win. I'll take the hunt."
Thomas grinned malevolently. "Thank you for your... cooperation, Gio. See you soon."
Then they left.
Giovanni stared after them, completely numb. Then he turned to me. "I'm sorry Dean."
I sat up, touching the newly formed bump on my head tentatively. "You didn't have to do that. I could have stopped him."
He gave me a sad look and helped me up off of the ground. "Don't worry about. Go ahead and get home."
"Are Teresa and Armando alright?"
"They're fine. Go on home. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Giovanni walked out of the kitchen, not looking back.
Later, I lay sleepily on my side of the bed, chest bare and jeans discarded, leaving me in only my... *ahem* underwear. A gentle hand tenderly grazed the spot where the thugs fist had landed. The hand belonged to my boyfriend (it still feels weird saying that), Teo Colucci, Giovanni's son. Ever since Teo had first asked me out, we had been constantly at each others sides. We were inseparable... except at the restaurant. The Colucci's still didn't know we were together.
"Does it hurt at all?" Teo asked.
"No," I dared not shake my head. "I told you I'm fine"
He smiled at me. "Okay, I heard you the first ten times."
"You worry too much," I replied.
Teo lightly planted a kiss on my bruise. "That's my job, baby."
I chuckled and settled into Teo's arms as he came up to lay beside me. We cuddled each other close, something I never would have admitted to doing, much less actually done it. But now, I didn't really care.
"When are you going to tell them?" I asked suddenly. Teo knew what I meant.
"Soon."
"You said that a month ago."
"I know."
"It's almost Christmas. They're going to find out sooner or later."
Teo looked me in the eye. "I'll tell them, okay. Don't worry."
He kissed my forehead and turned off the bedside lamp that was the only light in the room. I thought to myself. Would he really tell them?
Or would I have to do it myself?
