I freeze completely. Can't even breathe.
"You're going to regret that," he growls.
A commotion erupts at the front of the tavern. Shouting. The crash of furniture.
I'm shoved aside violently. I hit my hip hard on the edge of the table as I fall back into the booth seat. Pain shoots through my side.
Ronan stands and pockets his knife as his men raise their weapons toward the intruder. I look up to see Marco standing a few feet away with his gun trained directly on Ronan.
"Mr. Conti! So nice to see you," Ronan says jovially.
"Let's go," Marco says to me, his voice tight with barely controlled fury.
I step out of the booth, wincing at the pain in my side. Ronan's men move aside as I walk toward Marco.
"I'd like to take you up on your offer, stóirín," Ronan calls from behind me, making an obscene gesture. "See you soon."
I practically run from the tavern. Marco is right behind me but I can't look at him. Can't process what just happened or what he saw.
The night air hits my face and I gulp it down. Try to steady my breathing. My hands are shaking. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and everything feels too sharp, too real.
Tears start flowing before I can stop them. That was terrifying. I don't know what would have happened if Marco hadn't shown up. Don't want to think about it.
Marco steps up behind me. I can feel his anger radiating off him in waves. The kind of controlled fury that's somehow worse than shouting.
When I turn to look at him, his face is full of rage. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle ticking. But something softens when he sees my tears. Just slightly. Just enough.
"Take me home." My voice comes out as barely a whisper.
He doesn't say anything. Just grabs my hand and leads me to a black Range Rover parked down the street. I climb into the back seat. He follows and the door closes with a heavy thud that makes me flinch.
The ride home is silent except for my heart pounding in my ears. Marco stares out the window. His hand is still holding mineand I can feel the tension in his grip. Like he's afraid if he lets go I'll disappear.
I want to explain. Want to tell him everything. But the words won't come.
When we pull up to my building, Marco doesn't move. Just sits there staring straight ahead.
"Marco—"
"Not yet." His voice is rough. Strained. "Give me a minute."
I wait. Watch him try to get himself under control. His jaw works like he's grinding his teeth. Finally he releases my hand and turns to look at me.
"Let's go."
We walk up to my apartment together. He doesn't touch me but I can feel him right behind me. Close enough that if I stumbled he'd catch me. The climb up the stairs is suffocating. Neither of us speaks.
When we reach my door, my hands shake so badly I can't get the key in the lock. Marco takes it from me gently and opens the door himself.
Inside, he walks straight to the living room. Starts pacing like a caged animal. His hands go into his hair. His breathing is harsh and uneven.
The silence stretches between us until I can't take it anymore.
"Marco—"
"What the hell are you doing?" His voice explodes through the apartment.
I flinch. "I had it handled."
