Chapter 5
Massimo
It’s not difficult to discover where George Crawford lives. The corrupt bastard keeps his DEA friends close during the day, but it’s easy enough to stalk him, hiding myself in crowds as he moves through the busy streets.
I haven’t seen Evelyn in a week. It would’ve made me edgy if it weren’t for the glimpses of her silhouette through the drawn curtains when I stalk George back to his apartment at night.
I’ve seen plenty of that slippery bastard over the last several days, but he’s always surrounded by his fellow DEA agents. He must be spooked after Evelyn’s abduction—he never goes anywhere alone.
Not that he seems to give a damn about her. Three nights this week, he’s gone to the bar with his coworkers and left her isolated at home. Is she scared to leave the safety of their apartment?
I force my jaw to unclench and refocus my wayward thoughts. Evelyn is a beautiful distraction I can’t afford. I promised Duarte that I’ll handle the threat to his organization, and I can’t wait forever before eliminating the DEA agent.
Enzo and Gian have almost sealed our deal with Duarte and his Colombian partner, Adrián Rodríguez. Soon, they’ll return to Italy to set up the cocaine trafficking route on our end, and I’ll be alone as Duarte’s guest.
But in reality, I’ll stay behind as leverage to ensure that my friends uphold their end of the bargain.
The cartel bosses won’t ship their product to Europe without getting paid, so I’ll remain here until the transaction is complete.
Once the infrastructure is in place, I can return to Naples, and my friends and I will be richer than we’ve ever dreamed.
I just have to navigate the next few weeks with Duarte. If I leave George breathing for much longer, that won’t help solidify our new friendship. I have to follow through on my promise, or it’ll be my life on the line. Leaving George Crawford alive and well is bad for my health.
My fists clench at my sides when the bastard finally emerges from his apartment building, stepping out into the bright morning light. I don’t see any of his fellow agents nearby. This might be my opportunity to get him alone in a quiet alley and…
Fuck.
Sunlight flashes over Evelyn’s platinum hair as she follows him out onto the street, tucking her body close to his for protection. It seems she’s finally ready to venture out into the world after her ordeal, but she’ll still be jumpy from the violence she’d suffered.
I have to admire her bravery. After her isolation for the last week, I’d assumed she was becoming reclusive because of what she suffered.
My eyes narrow on him. The motherfucker doesn’t deserve a woman like her. But judging by the way she presses her body close to his side, she loves the bastard.
She’ll probably weep when he dies. But I can at least spare her the trauma of seeing his dead body.
Is the coward intentionally using her presence as a shield?
I shake my head to clear the thoughts away before my ire can rise and blot out rationality. I can’ lose my composure like I did when I found her bound and bleeding in that basement.
His motives don’t matter. I have a job to do, and if I manage to find an opening, I’ll kill him today.
I just have to hope that Evelyn will be separated from him at some point. She doesn’t deserve to watch the man she loves die violently right in front of her. Even if she will be better off without him in her life.
I’ll spare her the nightmares.
I roll the tension from my shoulders and began to follow them through the bustling city streets.
Anger heats my chest as I watch them together: she clings to him, and he holds her as though he has every right to own the innocent heart of this fragile woman.
Physically, he’s probably strong enough to defend her from most men, but he’ll be no match for me.
As I stalk them through the market, my attention remains fixed on Evelyn.
I ignore the various vendors calling out to me, hawking their wares.
I don’t give a shit about the fresh melons, handmade textiles, or fragrant flowers.
The crowd is thick enough that I have difficulty keeping her in my line of sight, but I move through the throng of people with practiced ease; this isn’t the first time I’ve marked a target.
Her shining hair is a beacon through the crowd, keeping my attention fixed on her blonde head.
I’m supposed to be hunting him, but my gaze doesn’t waver from her. She hovers close enough to the bastard’s side that I tell myself that I’m sticking to my task.
But I keep watching her, my fascination deepening.
She moves with graceful confidence, her shoulders straight and steps steady.
Her head is held high, the sunlight illuminating her platinum hair like a halo.
She doesn’t cower or cringe in the aftermath of her ordeal, even though this is her first time venturing back outside.
Does she find that inner strength because he’s with her? Does she think he’ll protect her if she’s threatened again?
My teeth cut the inside of my cheek. The way she looks to him to keep her safe makes my blood boil, and the red haze of my rage hovers at the edges of my mind. The sight of her small hand clasped possessively in his is almost enough to make me snap.
I haven’t been this unstable since the night I killed her kidnappers. It isn’t like me to lose my shit, not unless my life is in danger. But now, I hover on the edge of murderous violence.
Luckily for Crawford, she releases his hand when they reach a produce stall. Some of the tension eases from my muscles, and I manage to calm my most feral urges. Watching her rather than my enemy soothes the beast inside me, preventing me from recklessly attacking the motherfucker.
As she reaches for an apple, I note the white flash of the bandage that encircles her wrist. A shadow of my rage tightens my fists. She’s still recovering from what those bastards did to her—what her piece of shit fiancé allowed to happen to her.
I take a breath and force my fists to unfurl, but my attention remains fixed on her.
She moves with a dancer’s grace. Even the way her slender fingers trail over the produce is alluring, her touch gentle as she considers the fruit, hunting for the best apple in the bunch.
Unbidden, a memory I’ve long suppressed stirs at the back of my mind.
My mother had been graceful like that, beautiful and pure hearted, despite the grubby neighborhood we’d lived in. She’d helped my father at the grocery store, tidying the space whenever she took me to visit him during one of his long shifts.
I shake my head sharply, dashing the memories away. That was a different lifetime; I’d been a different person back then, a sheltered, na?ve child.
Now, I understand how the world works, and there’s no room for grace or tenderness in my life.
And yet, I can’t stop watching her. All my muscles coil tight with the effort of remaining still; I crave to cross the distance between us so that I can touch her delicate hand and capture her attention.
I want to see the color of her eyes. At this distance, I can’t make out the finer details of her lovely face.
I cross my arms over my chest as though that will force me to keep my hands to myself.
She turns her face toward Crawford, saying something that makes the bastard nod stiffly, a disapproving frown pinching his features. Her shoulders slump slightly, but she flashes him a bright smile and kisses his cheek.
I bite back a growl and remain still as a statue, watching as she walks away from the produce stall, brown bag of fruit in hand. He shadows her, that fucking frown still fixed on his face.
Evelyn approaches a man who’s huddled in an alcove, a sign begging for money clutched in his hands. For a moment, contempt heats my blood. The man could change his life if he wanted to; he just isn’t willing to make the hard choices necessary to survive.
Something tightens at the center of my chest when I finally notice the small child tucked close to the man’s side, clothed in a dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans.
Evelyn leans down with a kind smile, extending the brown bag in offering.
Hesitantly, the child reaches out and takes it from her.
The man nods in thanks and says something I can’t hear over the buzz of the crowd.
Her smile falters slightly, twisting with sadness for the space of a heartbeat before she pulls it back in place.
Crawford wraps his arm around her, pulling her into the market and away from the pathetic man who would rather beg than do whatever is necessary to provide for his child.
My emotions surge, making me oddly edgy. Evelyn’s compassion touches something deep inside me—the remnants of the innocent boy who’d been raised in poverty. But at the same time, I loathe the memory of that weak, helpless child.
And I hate the dark memories of the day my innocence died a brutal, agonizing death.
Gritting my teeth, I direct my hatred outward, choosing to blame the wretched beggar for his own misfortune and for neglecting his child.
And most of all, I hate George Crawford, the corrupt piece of shit who dares to touch innocent Evelyn with his dirty hands.
I saved her. Not him.
And yet, she leans into him for support. She brushes her lips over his in a tender kiss. Her dainty hand clasps his as though he’s the most important person in her world.
Contempt and jealousy curl my lips in a sneer. I take a single step toward them before I stop myself; I want nothing more than to rip him away from her and end his miserable life.
My movement catches her attention, and her light green eyes flash to mine. Her clear, peridot gaze punches me, knocking the air from my lungs. I go utterly still, as though I’ll spook the beautiful creature if I make a sudden move.
Her features are sharply defined but delicate, almost elfin, and her lovely eyes are large, like a pretty doll. Everything about her physical appearance exudes fragile grace, but I’ve glimpsed her inner strength, her bravery.
I barely breathe as she stares at me, our gazes locked. She’s several meters away from me, a flower stall separating us. But her stunning eyes hook me like a lure, commanding my full attention.
Hunger gnaws at my gut, a sharp desire I’ve never experienced before. I want this woman. I want her innocence, her beauty, her quiet strength. Everything about her fascinates me, and I crave more of her attention. I’m powerless to break from her gaze, and she’s looking at me with equal intensity.