Chapter 21
Massimo
My head swims, and the world blurs around me. A car horn blares in an incessant, unending wail. The grating sound drags me back to full consciousness. For a moment, I’m completely disoriented, the throbbing pain on my brow commanding my full attention and muddling my mind.
Then Evelyn screams my name, and fear I’ve never known before punches me, knocking the air from my lungs. Adrenaline surges, and the world sharpens with crystal clarity.
I’m alone in the wrecked SUV. To my right, the deployed airbag obscures the view out of the shattered window, but I can make out the grill of the white van that smashed into us. I must’ve been knocked unconscious at the impact.
How long have I been out?
And where is Evelyn?
The door to my left is open, and she’s no longer cuddled up against my side.
“Massimo!”
Panic claws at me, shredding rational thought and reducing me to my most primal, savage instincts.
I launch myself from the SUV, stumbling slightly as the ground seems to lurch beneath me. I will the dizziness to subside and barrel on, desperate to get to her.
The SUV is a smoking scrap heap, and I dimly note that the two men in the front seats are bloody and unmoving; I’m alone, without backup. And this vehicle won’t get us out of here anytime soon.
Even as part of my brain reasons through our dire circumstances—planning our way out of this nightmare scenario—my thoughts are consumed with fear for Evelyn: my fragile little butterfly.
She isn’t screaming anymore. I can’t hear her.
I round the ruined SUV and the smashed-up white van that collided with us to set this ambush. Another white van is parked behind it, perpendicular to the flow of traffic to blockade their assault. I catch a flash of her platinum hair just as the side door begins to slide closed.
I throw myself into the van, ignoring the jarring pain as the door slams into my side.
They will not take Evelyn away from me. They’ll die for trying.
My knife is in my hand, slashing at my enemies.
One of them starts to pull a gun on me, but the van is too small, and I’m too close.
My blade embeds itself in his skull, cutting into his brain.
His eye is plucked from its socket as I wrench the weapon free and turn to the other bastard who dares to touch her.
His throat opens with one smooth swipe of my knife.
A sharp curse from the driver’s seat calls my attention to the last man. That’s his final word before I reach around the seat and slam my blade into his heart, twisting to shred the vital organ. He slumps onto the steering wheel, and another horn blares, creating a cacophony of violent music.
I quickly heave the dead men out of the van, tossing their lifeless bodies far away from her.
I turn my attention to Evelyn, my heart in my throat. She’s sprawled out on the metal floor of the van, her shining hair creating a halo around her lovely face. Her delicate features are slack, and she’s far too still.
I rasp her name and gather her up in my arms, testing the pulse at her throat.
Her heartbeat is steady and strong. At my touch, her long lashes flutter, and her eyes open slowly. They’re glassy with pain, but she focuses on me.
“Massimo,” she whispers, her slender fingers twining in my shirt to clutch at me.
Alive. Evelyn is alive, warm and vital in my arms.
But not safe. Not yet.
“You’re okay,” I promise, forcing the words through my constricted throat. “I’ve got you.”
I don’t want to release her, but I arrange her shaking body on one of the bench seats in the back of the van and buckle her in. She’ll be more secure here, away from the front windows, even if I’d prefer to keep her in my line of sight.
As it is, I’m the only one who can drive us away from this mess.
Tires squeal as I slam my foot down on the accelerator. I tear through the city streets, mounting the sidewalk to get around the worst of the traffic. I shoot a desperate glance at Evelyn in the rearview mirror.
Her eyes are closed, her cheeks far too pale.
“Keep your eyes open,” I bark, terror still riding me hard and roughening my tone.
I don’t want her passing out on me again.
Her eyes snap open, wide on mine in the mirror. Her fear tears at my heart, the shredding pain far more intense than the lingering throb in my head.
“Good girl,” I growl, struggling to gentle my voice. “Eyes on me.”
It seems to take an eternity to reach the safe haven of Duarte’s home, but in reality, I manage the journey in minutes. No one pursues us; I killed all of the bastards who’d ambushed our SUV. There hadn’t been many of them in the van.
That was their fucking mistake to think they could take me on with only three men.
I swerve when I reach the high rise, making sure that the side door is aligned with the front entrance—Evelyn will be shielded by the van when I get her out of the vehicle.
Four armed men burst out of the bulletproof glass doors, their guns drawn. I hold up my hands in a show of surrender, waiting three seconds for them to recognize me. Their weapons lower when they register that I’m a friend, not a threat.
As soon as my life is no longer in immediate danger, I rush to Evelyn.
“Cover us,” I bark at the men as I round the van to wrench open the sliding door.
Evelyn fumbles at her seatbelt, eager to get into the safety of my waiting arms. Instinctively, she seeks my protection.
Even as fear clings to my heart, my chest warms at the knowledge that she trusts me so implicitly. The desperation that tightens her lovely eyes soothes the beast in me.
That desperation is for me.
She manages to get free of the seatbelt and flings herself against my chest. I gather her up in my arms and rush her into the building, not slowing even when the bulletproof door closes behind us.
“Call the doctor,” I snap at the men.
“What’s happening?” one of the guards demands.
“Los Zetas,” I growl in response, punching the button for the elevator. In the seconds it takes for the damn thing to arrive, I bite out, “They ambushed us on our way to the airport. Call Duarte and tell him what happened.”
“He’ll want to talk to you.”
“I need the doctor first,” I counter sharply as I step into the elevator. “Evelyn was hurt.”
“I’m okay,” she says in a shaky whisper as the silver doors slid close, cutting us off from the guards and their questions. “You’re the one who’s bleeding, Massimo.”
Her eyes are dark with panic, and she brushes her fingers over my cheek. Red paints her porcelain skin.
Shit. My brow throbs, but lingering adrenaline keeps the discomfort from becoming a distraction.
I hate the fear that pinches her delicate features, hate the sight of blood marring her perfection.
Better my blood than hers. I will gladly bleed for her; I’ll willingly shed a lot more blood if it means she’s unharmed.
We reach the safety of the suite, and I rush her into the bedroom before carefully laying her down on the bed, ensuring that her back is propped against the pillows.
My hands rove over her body, barely touching her as I assess her for injuries. I suppress the impulse to tear off her cornflower blue, lightweight sundress to check her over.
I take a breath and remind myself that the doctor will be here soon, and he’ll be more capable of assessing her health. In my feral mood, I might accidentally jar any injuries.
“They hurt you.” My voice is so gravelly with residual rage that it’s barely human.
They tried to take her from me. They died far too quickly.
I become aware that blood splatters my fists and forearms—the blood of my enemies. My chest swells with savage satisfaction at the evidence of their deaths. They will never touch her again.
I’m somewhat soothed at the sight of the gore that marks my skin. The brief concern that it might upset Evelyn melts away when I register that her anxious gaze is fully focused on my face.
“Where is the doctor?” she demands breathlessly. “How long will it take for him to see you?”
“I’m fine, dolcezza.” I brush her hair back from her cheek.
“You’re not fine!” Her voice takes on a higher pitch than usual. “You weren’t moving. All that blood…” Her terrified gaze rakes over my face. “I thought you were…”
She trails off, her throat working as though she can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
I shush her gently, placing my hand over her heart so that she can feel my presence. Calm settles over me. Fear for her wellbeing still flutters at the back of my mind, but she needs me to be her rock right now. The sight of my concern will only upset her more.
“I’m okay, Evelyn,” I promise. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She places her hand over mine, pressing it tighter to her chest.
“They wanted to take me to George,” she murmurs, the pained admission barely audible. “They said they didn’t care what condition I was in.”
Fury surges, and I barely manage to keep the murderous tension from gripping my muscles. The sight of Evelyn’s horror tears at my insides.
“He will never get to you,” I vow.
“I loved him,” she admits, her voice shaking. “I was going to marry him. I thought he was a good man.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, as though she’s trying to trap her tears and prevent them from spilling over.
A sense of powerlessness I’ve never known before hollows out my chest. Her distress shreds me like nothing else.
He did this to her. He betrayed this sweet, trusting angel. She looks shattered: my broken little butterfly.
“How could I be so stupid?” she asks on a strained whisper, her eyes still closed.
Anger tightens my jaw, but I manage to force out through gritted teeth, “You’re not stupid. He lied to you. He never deserved you.”
“It doesn’t feel real. This can’t be happening.”
I cup her cheek. “Look at me.”
Her lovely eyes snapped to mine, dark with pain.
“You’re with me now. I’ve got you, no matter what. You have a good heart. Don’t let him take that from you.”