Target on Our Backs (Monster in His Eyes 3)

"That you're a lunatic."

Karissa tenses. She's terrified.

But Lorenzo? He laughs.

Unlike everyone else, he finds this all funny. Life, to him, is nothing more than a game. Product of his upbringing, maybe, but it wouldn't surprise me if it were merely coded in his DNA. He never knew his real father, but the Gambini name is one of the worst. Cold, calculated mass murderers. He was raised an Accardi, though, which arguable isn't much better. His stepfather was an abusive alcoholic with a hot temper and an itchy trigger finger, the kind of man who would beat a child unconscious and not bother to call an ambulance until after he fixed himself a drink.

Another of those reasons I had to kill the man.

"Naz," Karissa whispers. "We've got to get out of here. I can't... I can't do this. He's going to kill us."

"Relax. He's not going to kill us. He's—"

"A friend," Lorenzo chimes in, looking almost smug about it as he does.

Karissa's face contorts at the word. Friend.

"He's not a threat," I tell her. "Not to me."

Not right now, anyway.

Tomorrow is another day.

"How can you think that? He... he was there! With the cab driver, and the man, and oh God, just right now! He did it... he's one of them. And you expect me to trust him?"

"No," I say, turning toward her, my hands cradling her face as I look at her pointedly. "Never trust a word he says. He'll lie right to your face."

"I'm right here, you know," Lorenzo says.

I ignore that.

"But trust me, Karissa. Can you do that?"

She nods, although she looks at me like I might be losing my mind. But I don't have it in me to try to explain it right now. I'm utterly exhausted, and she needs to see a doctor as soon as possible.

"Can you walk?" I ask her.

"Uh, yeah… of course."

I take her hand, turning to Lorenzo. Don't make a liar out of me. "We're leaving."

He steps aside to give us a path to the wooden stairs, but he says nothing. I lead Karissa over toward them, letting her go up first, and cast another look at Lorenzo.

He's watching me curiously. "You still want that meeting?"

"You know I do."

He nods, looking away. "I'll be in touch."

We find no resistance leaving. The men are still scrambling around, too preoccupied to even notice us. They heard the gunshot. We slip out the front door, and I help Karissa straight to my car, waiting until she's settled before getting in beside her.

She's still trembling.

"Hey," I say, reaching over, stroking her cheek. "It's going to be okay, baby."

"You promise?"

I stare at her, wiping away a stray tear as it falls. "I swear it, Karissa. We're going to be fine."

She smiles, a sad kind of smile, as she reaches up and places her hand over my hand. She lets go after a moment, turning her head to gaze out the side window at the quiet neighborhood.

I start to drive away, and she stays quiet for a while, before she lets out a deep sigh. "Did you kill him?"

"Who?"

"The man in the building. The one… tonight."

I pull up to a red light, sitting there for a moment, before quietly answering, "Yeah, I did."

She closes her eyes.

She expected that answer.

She still doesn't like it, though. This world isn't for her. The violence, the bloodshed, the murder... it's just not her. She struggles accepting that I end lives.

She'd never forgive herself if she knew she killed that guy.

I hate lying to her. I hate it. But I lie to her this time.

I lie to her to spare her.

Because no matter what he did, or what he would've done had he not been stopped, he was still a human being to Karissa.

He had a beating heart.

"We should get you to a doctor," I say, changing the subject. "Head to the closest hospital."

"No." Her voice is sharp, almost panicked, as she reaches over, placing her hand on my arm. "No hospitals. Hospitals mean police which mean questions. Questions about where I was, questions about what happened, questions about you, and me, and I'm just tired of answering questions. I just... I want to go home."

"But I need to make sure you're okay."

"What about that guy? Dr. Carter?"

"He's a veterinarian, Karissa."

"So? That didn't stop you from calling him when you were shot."

"Don't be ridiculous. You need a real doctor."

"For what? A few stitches on my foot? I can sew it up myself."

I wait until we reach another red light before I respond. She's being absurd. I know it's because she's scared, but I can't risk it.

"You're pregnant, Karissa. It's not just you I'm worried about."

"I know, but..." She lets out a deep sigh. "How is it going to help us if you get locked up? You killed someone tonight, Naz, and the building... it blew up. What are they going to think if I show up at the hospital, smelling like a fucking meth house?"

There's no winning this argument.

I can already tell it.

She has tears in her eyes, and I can't push her right now, not when she's already so traumatized. Sighing, I pull out my phone, looking through it for Michael Carter's number. He answers on the second ring, his voice hesitant. "Hello?"

"It's Vitale. I need you to meet me at my house."

"Is it an emergency?"

"I wouldn't call you if it wasn't."

With that, I hang up.

I told him to be there, so I know he'll come.

"A compromise," I tell her. "Dr. Carter will look you over, but if he's concerned, if he thinks there might be a problem, we go straight to the hospital."

"Fair enough."

As soon as we get home, we head inside, and the first thing Karissa does is call out for her dog.

Killer comes right away.

Ears laid down, tail wagging, tongue out, he jumps up on her, and I go to stop him, but Karissa takes it in stride. She slips right down to the floor, plopping on her ass in the living room, and hugs him as she again starts crying.