Chapter 21 #2
I harden my resolve. I won’t fucking allow it. No matter what it takes, I’ll shield her from further harm. She will never lose the innocence that I covet: the kind soul that I crave to possess.
I want her sweet devotion all for myself, and I won’t allow that motherfucker to diminish her spirit. She has an inner strength that I’ve seen in her many times. That bastard won’t crush it. He won’t take one more damn thing from this perfect woman.
A knock on the door to the suite distracts me. I immediately break contact and rush to let the doctor in. As soon as the thin, dark-haired man appears in the doorway, I step back to hurry him to the bedroom.
“She was unconscious when I found her,” I tell him, the words a low growl as fury surges once again. I clench my teeth to reign in my anger, struggling to shove it down so that I remain calm for her. “I don’t know how long she was out.”
The man seems to understand that I prioritize Evelyn over my own more obvious injuries.
Or maybe it’s the murderous rage that still lingers in my taut muscles—a warning not to contradict me.
She sits up on the bed, her gaze sharpening on my bloody face. “You’re the one who was unconscious,” she counters. “I was just disoriented for a minute. I really am okay.”
“They hurt you,” I grind out, my patience wearing thin. “Tell me what happened.”
Her chin tips back in that defiant posture that both irritates and entices me. For now, irritation wins. This isn’t the time for a sensual power play, not when her health is at risk.
“Tell me what they did,” I bite out, crossing my arms over my chest.
The doctor is already at her side, ready to assess her for unseen injuries.
She huffs out a breath, capitulating. “I’ll tell you, but you have to get checked out as soon as he confirms I’m fine.”
She nods in the direction of the doctor.
“Evelyn…” I imbue her name with warning, a threat of consequences if she doesn’t comply immediately.
She turns her attention to the doctor. “They took me out of the SUV and put me in a van. I struggled, so one of them hit me. Things went hazy for a minute. The next thing I knew, Massimo was driving me away from the fight.”
I’m grateful that she didn’t witness the violence in the van, but concern for her far outweighs my relief.
“Where were you hit?” the doctor asks, calm and methodical as he begins to gingerly inspect her scalp.
She gestures to the right side of her head. When he applies light pressure to the spot, she winces.
I’m at her side in an instant, wrapping my hand around hers in a pulse of comfort. The sense of helplessness gnaws at me, the sensation maddening. I can’t bear to see her in pain.
“You’ll have a bit of a bump there for a little while, but there’s no bleeding,” the doctor says. He turns his brown gaze on me, clearly sensing that I’m the one who needs reassurance. “She’ll be fine.”
My gaze rakes over her body, assessing her for other injuries. Red marks mar her upper arms: violence imprinted on her creamy skin. The bastards dragged her away from me. She’d fought to get back to me. She’d screamed for me.
Summoning up all my willpower, I shove my rage deep in my chest. I’ll get the opportunity to take it out on the man who truly deserves my retribution: George Crawford. Soon, I’ll have him strung up and bleeding in Duarte’s basement. He will be the one struggling and screaming.
The thought helps me control the worst of my anger.
“Her arms,” I growl at the doctor, demanding that he check the marks for deeper injury.
“She’ll probably bruise, but nothing is broken,” the man replies smoothly. “Now, I need to get a look at your head.”
My phone rings. Duarte.
I wave the man off and answer the call. My host won’t like it if I ignore him, and I need an update on the situation with our enemies, the threat to Evelyn.
“You risked an assault on my home,” he drawls without greeting me. “Los Zetas could’ve pursued you.”
“No one followed me,” I reply as coolly as I can manage.
A beat of tense silence.
“We’re friends, Massimo. Of course, I will offer my protection while you’re in my territory.”
“Thank you.” Some of the tension eases from my jaw.
“We will delay our trip,” he informs me. “I need to ensure this situation is handled at home before we go out of the country. We’ll leave tomorrow. I assume you still want to go to Colombia with me to meet Adrián?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“Adrián will be pleased to meet you too,” Duarte says, no pleasure evident in his cold voice. “I’m sure our business arrangement will be profitable for all of us.”
I hear the unspoken discontent in his genial words: he expects to get even richer off our deal, and failure will have serious consequences for my friends and me.
“It will be.” It’s a guarantee. “I always keep my promises, Stefano.”
“Yes, I remember. We’ll discuss our next moves on the jet tomorrow morning.”
He ends the call without waiting for me to confirm, so I allow the doctor to check my head. Evelyn’s eyes are tight with worry as he prods at my wound, and the sight of her tender concern soothes the twinge of pain.
She’s safe with me.