Page 79 of Saving Grace

Atticus’s first bullet crashed into Gionni’s breastbone, throwing him backwards. He fell to his knees, his mouth wide. Using both hands he struggled to push himself up from the ground, but one last bullet stopped him.

The second shot was louder —if that was even possible. It entered, then exited his head, leaving his face a mangled mess. The pool behind him turned crimson. His body made a thumping sound as he hit the ground.

I took a step in their direction. I needed to clear up what Gionni said to Atticus before he got the wrong impression. But in that moment, gravity crashed into me with all the force of a hurricane hitting the shore, my knees trembled, before finally giving out. I was falling and there was no way of stopping myself.

Just before I hit the ground, Atticus was scooping me up into his arms. “I’m sorry,” I apologized over and over again to him as he lifted me. “I never meant to hurt you again, Atticus. She’s yours, of course she’s yours.”

Despite the fact that he smelled of blood, death, and gunpowder I tucked my head into his chest and sobbed.

I felt split open, like all my secrets were bleeding out onto the ground. Years ago, I had told Atticus there would be no more secrets or lies between us, but there was a massive one left that I was almost afraid was too toxic for even our union to survive.

Atticus kicked the back door open. He stepped over the two dead bodies in the kitchen. I concentrated on the squeak of his shoes as he carried me down the basement stairs to the safe room. Stopping at the threshold he released one hand to secure the locks on the door. “Armed” the robotic voice notified us. I was trapped.

“What did he mean, Grace?” His voice shook, but he never raised it as he laid me down on the sofa, being extra careful. His tone was scary though. Too soft to be real coming from him.

When I didn’t answer right away he exploded.

“What the fuck does he mean, he fucked both my wives?”

This was it, the moment I broke us, I thought. I might as well just tell him and get it over with.

I maneuvered myself to a sitting position. I could see the want to help me flash in his eyes, but he stayed put. Looming over me. Waiting for me to ruin us.

I used the back of my sweater to wipe aware tears. Then I closed my eyes to stop them from escaping.

I kept my head down, cleared my throat, and began.

“I’m not pointing fingers or making excuses. I know me keeping secrets from you, frustrated you, but you know me, you should have known I had no other choice. And after everything I’d been through. To have you take away my free will. To threaten to take away my son. To force me to live in that house with you and her. Why would I stay?

All that was on my mind when I woke up and found that you had dropped me in the middle of nowhere, after drugging me was leaving. I was angry. You hadn’t noticed I picked up your phone. You didn’t know Gionni had given me a card. When I called him he was happy to help me just to spite you.

I opened my eyes. I didn’t want to picture that night. Atticus had moved closer. His face unreadable He was waiting for the rest of the story to unfold.

I sighed before continuing.

“I should have learned my lesson not to trust men. I used the phone to send him my location, then I passed out again. I woke up to find my dress hiked up and him on top of me. He called compensation for his help. I was—”

“So, Gionni raped you?” Atticus cut me off. He stared down at me. The doubt in his eyes hurt more than the memory.

I clenched my fists. He caught the movement, cocked his head. Dared me to react while continuing to deride me. “He raped you and still went along with your harebrained scheme to go pick up my children and let him not know where you were staying.”

I had two choices. I could throw Tank under the bus. It wasn’t Gionni’s men who had come for me. I told Gionni to leave after what he’d done to me. He’d zipped his fly and left with a smirk on his lips. I only had one person I could call, Tank. He called in a favor. I would later learn the scary man who came to help me name was DeMarco.

My second choice was to ignore his question. I decided upon the latter.

“Does it matter, Atticus? We returned safely. He’s dead. It’s been damn near ten years.”

I was grasping for straws because there was so much I didn’t want to say.

His eyes heated with barely restrained rage.

I felt a slither of fear creep up my spine.

He raised his hand and slashed it through the air. “You opened your fucking lying mouth and told me to my face that there were no more secrets, no more lies, Grace.”

I fought against the urge to repel away from his anger.

“Did you tell me that you had fucked your wife when you were supposed to be waiting for me to return?”