“I see that. What’d they use? A flamethrower?”
“Car bomb.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” I try not to think about how this conversation isn’t making me gibber and scream with terror. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He glances at me. His stare is hard and hungry. That finally sets alarm bells ringing. But he only tightens his lips. “You can meet my family.”
“What is that going to do, exactly?”
“I’m in a unique situation.” He grunts when I dab antiseptic onto the worst of his cuts. “There is no leader of our organization. The council?—”
“By leader, you mean there’s no Don of your mafia?”
“Yes, and stop interrupting me.”
I flick one of his cuts. “Don’t be a prick.”
He grunts, glares at me, and continues talking. “The council is willing to give me the position, just like my father wanted,but they need me to prove that I’m a good, long-term solution. Which means marriage.”
“Oh, great, now it makes sense. You need me to prove that you’re a responsible steward of your criminal gang.”
“More or less. But it gets worse.”
“Can’t imagine how, but go ahead.”
“There’s a conflict. Another organization has been pushing slowly onto our turf. But we’re currently weak because we have no official leader.”
“Which is why you’re pushing me so hard.” I step back to admire my handiwork. All his slices and nicks are disinfected and covered in little bandages. God, he really is attractive. The more I look at him, the more I think about that night in his car, and the more I think about that?—
The more I really need to get the heck away from him.
But Stellan doesn’t put his shirt on. Instead, he sits on the edge of the tub and looks at his leg. With a frustrated grunt, he finds an ointment in the cabinet and begins to apply it awkwardly. I take over a second later with an aggrieved sigh, figuring it’s better if I do it than let him end up with an infection.
“The war won’t get close to you, in case you’re worried,” he says softly as my fingers trail along his calf. I finish taping the bandage to his leg and look up. I’m on my knees in front of him, and his eyes are surprisingly soft. Normally, he’s looking at me like he wants to kill me. But not right now.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I promised to protect you and your sister. That’s what I’ll do.”
“Do gang wars usually follow strict rules? I have a feeling anyone close to you is going to end up a target.”
“Not you.” He reaches down and brushes my hair back. I should get the hell out of here. I should stand and run the hell away.
Instead, I lean closer. “If I had any sense at all, I’d be on the next flight out of the country. You realize that?”
“What would your sister do for college then?”
“I hear Europe’s pretty nice, actually.”
“You’d hate every second of it.”
“Why’s that? Free healthcare, free college?—”
“But I’m not there.” He tugs me closer. I suck in a breath. I sit up further on my knees, my hands wrapping around his back and nails scraping down his spine. This is bad. This is very bad. I tilt my chin upwards.
