I step into his line of fire deliberately, drawing it to me, and feel the punch of impact tear across my ribs. It burns. Blood is already soaking my shirt but I barely register it.
All I see is Lucia.
Alive. Unhurt. A promise I intend to keep.
I return fire and he drops.
Yard after yard, I push them back with my men until they’re the only stragglers left.
Walking backwards to the car, I double-check my surroundings once more, then yank the door open.
“Time to move,amuri,” I growl, hauling her with me towards the service door I clocked the second we entered the street.
My men close in around us, efficient, lethal, but I don’t let go of her. I don’t trust anyone else with her body. With what’s mine.
The door slams shut behind us, plunging us into darkness that smells like oil and rust and old concrete.
The gunfire outside fades into echoes.
Silence crashes down.
Lucia turns to me, eyes wild, hands already on my chest, then my shoulder, then the blood.
“You’re hurt.”
“I don’t care,” I snap, already pulling her closer, already running my hands over her back, her legs, her throat, my touch uncharacteristically frantic. “Answer me. Are you hit?”
She shakes her head quickly, hands fisting in my jacket, anchoring herself the same way she did in the street. “No. I’m not. I swear.”
Only then does the tension break, just a fraction.
My forehead drops to hers, our breaths colliding in the dark, my hands still braced hard at her waist like if I let go she’ll vanish.
For a heartbeat, I’m not Don Dragoni. I’m not a tactician or a killer or a man built for war.
I am a man who very nearly lost his wife.
A wife who feels the next tremor that seizes my body. Tosses it about like a leaf in the wind.
“You’re not, though. Are you?” she mutters.
“I’m fine. We’ll be safe here until theculosare taken care of.”
Even as she nods, her gaze is tracking all over me. She stops when she sees the wet patch on my shoulder.
“Gio, you’re bleeding really badly.”
She rarely uses my abbreviated name. And when she does, I pay attention. “I said I’m fine.”
She doesn’t listen.
Surprise.
“Let me see.” Her hands shake as she presses them against me, breath coming fast, her pupils blown wide with adrenaline and fear and something else I don’t let myself name yet.
I cup her face hard enough that she stills. “Look at me,” I command.
She does.
