“I’m not angry; I’m terrified.” He leaned forward, but I avoided his kiss. With a snarl, he gripped my cheeks and pressed his lips against mine. They were hot and…trembling. “I was so fucking scared when I realized it was you. No one gets to scare me. Yet you do.”
“Ditto,” I breathed.
A long pause passed between us. It was filled with our heavy breathing as we tried to reassure ourselves that everything was alright.
“It’s really just a scratch?” I whispered, risking a glance at the spot right where his tee ended and the flesh began.
“Yes,” he rasped. “Yes, you beautiful woman, it was.”
“Can you—” I gulped. “Can you lead me out of here? I don’t want to move the truck, and I sure as hell don’t want to go out there and look around.”
“You and your fucking driving.” It was the teasing note that helped bring warmth to my numb extremities.
“Hey! My driving saved your life.”
Vincenzo lifted me into his arms. “I love that you’d burn the world for me. I hate that you’d burn yourself. You will never—ever—do that again.”
I snorted, keeping my eyes squeezed tight. “The fight looked pretty desperate until I turned the tide.”
“You’re reckless.” Vincenzo kissed my forehead. “Brave.” Another kiss. “And mine. That combination will kill me.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t get to be brave without my permission.” I tightened my grip around his neck. “I won’t lose you.”
“And I can’t lose you,” he agreed.
Chapter 52 –Vincenzo
“You know this means I’m still a mobster, right?” Amanda quipped from the passenger seat of my red McLaren.
I shot her a side look. My arm rubbed against the seat. A soft sting reminded me of the grazing bullet. The strip of cloth had stopped the bleeding, but it was still a close call.
“You don’t want to be Made, Mandy.”
Her mouth opened, but words failed her.
I sighed. How did I explain this to her? She was going to see me as weak. A coward, who was desperately trying to escape his birthright.
“When I was in prison, I dreamed of a way out,” I began. “I built legal businesses. Granted, I still have dealings that are less than savory, but there’s no paperwork that will damn me. I did it, Mandy. I’m almost out.”
There. I hoped like hell she heard the pride in my voice.
“Enzo,” she said quietly. “Why would you want out? The mob is your family. You were born to be one of them?”
I shifted in my seat. The bandage rubbed. The wound smarted. “It’s nothing. Just a career change.”
“No….” She shook her head. “No, it’s not nothing. There has to be a reason.”
I bit my tongue.
“You can tell me.” The plea in her voice sent me spiraling.
I wanted to confide in her. To have that closeness where we were able to speak about our problems and find comfort in another human, who would offer support, not judgment.
But I judged myself.
“Oh, I get it,” she murmured. “You don’t want to go back to prison.”
Of course, she would figure it out.
