Page 62
The world suddenly freezes, and everything in the room breaks into slow-motion pictures. Tomas’s crimson fingers close around Lucia’s wrist. He yanks her from Sophia’s grip and a gun, stripped from one of the soldiers guarding him, appears against Lucia’s temple.
Every nerve in my body fires at once. As my vision tunnels to the barrel against her skin, the rest of the room falls away.
Her lips open in a scream, but my ears barely pick up the noise. With all of my senses buried under a loud, drum-busting static, I can only read her lips.
“Marco!”
The room explodes into chaos. Soldiers draw weapons. Enzo shouts orders. But I’m already reacting.
I raise my hands, and my eyes lock on Tomas’s face. I shift sideways, putting myself into the sight line between his gun arm and the cluster of soldiers nearest to Lucia.
“Tomas.” It takes everything I have to keep the tremor out of my voice. “This doesn’t end well for you.”
“It ends however I want it to end.” Tomas’s arm trembles, causing the gun to waver against Lucia’s temple. She’s gone still in that adaptive way I’ve learned to recognize.
Her gaze finds mine, and I read her clear message. I’m okay. Handle this.
She’s so damn brave.
“You hurt her,” I edge closer, measuring distance and angle to not spook Tomas, “and I will spend the rest of my life making you wish you’d never been born. That isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.”
Tomas laughs, sputtering saliva thick with blood. “You think I’m afraid of dying? I was gone the moment your soldiers grabbed me. The only question is whether I take something precious to you with me.”
Lucia’s hand slides almost imperceptibly toward her pocket.
My pulse kicks. The knife. She’s reaching for the folding knife I pressed into her palm after our first training session. If she’s listened to me for once in her life, that blade will be three inches from her fingers right now.
Brava, tesoro. Fight.
“I’ll make you a deal.” I go still and lift my hands. “You let her go, and I let you walk out that door alive. I’ll even give you a two-hour head start.”
Tomas’s eyes narrow. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You expect me to let you kill her?” I don’t care who hears the loud crack in my voice. “She’s the only good part of my life. If you want to steal that from me, you’ll have to kill me first.”
For a heartbeat, Tomas hesitates. And that’s enough.
Lucia’s blade glints as she buries it into the meat of his thigh. He screams, and his grip on Lucia loosens for a fraction of a second.
My hand closes around her arm, and I wrench her behind me, spinning her out of his reach.
The palm of my other hand strikes Tomas’s chest, resulting in him staggering backward. His arm swings wildly, his finger still on the trigger. The gun fires once with a shot that shatters a window behind the assembled capos. Before he can level the barrel again, six soldiers are on him, tackling him to the ground, pinning his arms, and prying the weapon from his fingers.
The room goes quiet except for Tomas’s muffled screams and Lucia’s ragged breathing.
She presses against the wall, the knife still clutched in her quivering hand. The blood dripping from her skin isn’t hers. Her eyes are alert, but she’s unharmed.
My hands frame her face, and I’m glad to find her warm and alive.
“Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?”
“I’m okay.” Her voice trembles but holds. “I’m okay, Marco. You got to me in time.”
You got to me in time.
The assurance shatters a wall inside me. I gather her against my chest, one hand cradling her head and the other wrapping around her waist. Her hair smells like jasmine, a familiar comfort. I bury my nose in it, and for a moment, I forget we have an audience or that I’m Marco Santori, a man who should never show weakness. I’m just a man embracing the woman I almost lost.
“I’m sorry.” My apology is muffled against her hair. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—”
