WANTED: Love of my Life

51. Final Fight

CRACK!

The shot was louder this time. Cars around us stopped, people stared out of the windows, but I didn't notice. I only saw Giacomo, thrown onto the ground... and suddenly on his feet again. He lunged at Neil, who gaped at him in surprise.

“How...?!”

Then they were both on the ground, wresting, trying to get on top of the other. They were rolling around dangerously close to the road. Neil came up on top and punched Giacomo in the face, again and again. My boyfriend was just lying there, not even trying to defend himself! He was wounded and weak, and he was losing, and it was all my fault and if I didn't do anything he was going to die! I started forward, but in that moment Giacomo's arm came up. He gripped Neil by the throat. And as Neil let go of his shirt to grab his arm, Giacomo jerked his knee up into Neil's crotch and catapulted him over his head. Car brakes screeched, and the cacophony of honks almost drowned out the strangled scream of a man. Almost.

There was a thump and a nasty crack, like from bones breaking.

I collapsed on the ground in front of Giacomo and pressed my face into his jacket as hard as I could. Maybe, if I didn't look, I wouldn't think about what had just happened.

Underneath me, Giacomo groaned and made me remember. He'd been shot! And I had forgotten! What sort of girlfriend was I? Quickly, I raised my head and searched his chest for bloodstains. There were none. My shaking fingers ached to touch him, to see if he was all right, but I didn't dare. Instead, I demanded: “Are you all right? Where did the bullet go? Are you hurting? Bleeding?”

Giacomo shook his head. “He missed.”

I frowned. I wouldn't have thought so. But what did I know about guns? Nothing.

“Hey, you!”

The sound of a car door opening made me raise my eyes. A burly man was advancing towards us. In front of his car lay the bloody... quickly, I averted my eyes.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?! You show me your ID now! I'm calling the cops!”

Suddenly, the world was rushing past my eyes. It took a moment for me to realize that Giacomo had snatched me up and was running away, me tucked against his chest. Angry voices were shouted behind me. I looked around, and through my tears could only see black blurs and flashing lights. I had never seen anyone run so fast. It looked like he wanted to win the next Olympics 100-meter dash. Or perhaps Marathon, I wondered, as the voices behind grew fainter and fainter and he still didn't stop.

It was some time before I managed to find my tongue again. When I had, and gotten it under control, I asked in a raspy voice: “You're not going to stop, are you?”

He shook his head without breaking his stride.

“We should go back and explain everything. Wait for the police.”

He looked down at me then. There was unbelievable pain in his eyes as he again shook his head. He opened his mouth as if to say something. Probably 'Sorry, I can't tell you why' or some inventive lie. But I laid my cheek against his and whispered: “I understand. You cannot go back. You don't have to tell me why. I understand.”

The next look he threw me was full of silent thanks – and no less pain than the one before.

He slowed down and stopped. We were on the shore again, I realized, another tangle of seaweed in front of us. Before he pulled it aside, I already knew what it was hiding. Another boat. Another means of escape for a boy on the run. For that's what he was. He was being hunted, by criminals and cops both.

Still silent and hardly even out of breath from his run, he sat me down into the boat and started the engine. Seconds later we were speeding away over the dark waters, past the Golden Gate Bridge and towards the opposite shore. While he steered with one hand, he pulled me close with the other and kissed me. Kissed me in a way he'd never kissed me before. Hard. Passionate. Hinting at things to come.

In that moment, happiness rushed though me. As crazy as it was with everything that had happened tonight, I was happy. Why?

I didn't know who he was. I didn't know what he had done to be hunted. I didn't know what terrible crimes he had probably committed before the hunt had begun. But I didn't care – because I loved him, loved him with a burning intensity that almost made my heart explode with joy.

And yeah, maybe I cared just a little bit about his past – come on, you can't blame a girl for being curious, can you? And maybe he was a half-crazed, penniless, illegal homeless criminal immigrant. And maybe I was using too many adjectives. But the fact remained: I loved him. And by the way he kissed me while the twinkling lights of ships passed by the Golden Gate Bridge in the moonless night, I was willing to bet he did, too. Love me, I mean, not himself, because that would be just so... oh, to hell with all that! I was in love!! Yippee!!!