11. Massimo
Istopped the bike in front of the high rise building that Duarte owned in the heart of Mexico City. His enemies wouldn’t be able to touch her once I got her inside.
Rage still tightened my jaw, but otherwise, my body was on autopilot; this wasn’t the first time I’d faced down an armed opponent and won. Under other circumstances, I’d be completely relaxed in the aftermath of the swift, brutal violence. But that motherfucker had tried to kill Evelyn. He would’ve shot her in cold blood, and her piece of shit fiancé hadn’t lifted a finger to save her. Crawford definitely wouldn’t have thrown himself in front of a bullet for her.
More proof that he wasn’t worthy of her. I’d be doing her a favor when I eliminated him from her life.
I needed to get her inside—where Duarte’s small army of men would ensure that no one dared to follow us.
Her slender fingers were knotted in my shirt, her arms locked tight around my torso. I placed my hands over hers and urged her to let go with a firm squeeze. Her chest heaved against my back, her breath stuttering. She must be confused and scared right now. I would protect the fragile little butterfly from further harm.
“Let go, farfallina,” I urged, tugging her grasping fingers free from my shirt. She didn’t fight me. “Good girl.”
I got off the bike and removed the helmet from her blonde head. Her platinum hair shined under the streetlights: a beacon, a target.
I scooped her up in my arms and rushed her inside, releasing a relieved breath as soon as the bulletproof glass doors closed behind us. Two armed guards greeted me with familiar nods, not commenting on my precious cargo despite their curious looks. I tugged her closer to my chest, shooting them both a warning glower.
No one would touch her but me.
“Where are we?” she asked in a shaky whisper as I pressed the button to call the elevator.
“Somewhere safe.”
Her brow furrowed. “Like a safe house?”
My muscles tensed for a moment, and I forced my arms to relax around her so that I wouldn’t scare her with my strength.
She must think I was associated with law enforcement. I supposed that made some sort of sense, given my presence at the bar and in the alley outside her apartment just now. She must be trying to rationalize my behavior in her fear-addled mind.
All that mattered was that she saw me as her protector. As long as she didn’t try to run away from me, I could keep her safe without scaring her. I would prevent her from leaving this building if I had to, but I preferred not to add to her terrible ordeal tonight.
“You’re safe with me,” I replied smoothly: the absolute truth.
The elevator ascended to the fifth floor, where my suite was located. Duarte was an excellent host, and he’d made sure to provide my friends and me with lavish accommodations while we worked out the finer details of our business arrangement. Evelyn would be safe and comfortable here.
My friends. Shit. I had no idea how Gian and Enzo would react to her presence. I hadn’t told the brothers about my obsession with George Crawford’s fiancée. They probably wouldn’t like it.
Luckily, they weren’t in the suite when I stepped inside, Evelyn still cradled in my arms.
They would return eventually and discover us together, but I couldn’t worry about that now. She was all that mattered.
I didn’t want to release her from my protective embrace, but she shifted against me, apparently uncomfortable that I was still holding her despite the fact that we were safe from imminent danger. Reluctantly, I set her down on her feet, but I couldn’t bring myself to break contact. My hands skimmed her upper arms, steadying her as she found her balance on shaky legs. Her creamy skin was so soft against my rough callouses. It pebbled beneath my touch, and I wasn’t sure if that was a lingering fear response, or if she was as viscerally affected by our physical connection as I was.
Her pale green eyes were wide on mine, long blonde lashes nearly brushing her brows. When we’d been at the bar earlier, she must’ve darkened them with mascara, but I found her lovely like this: pure and perfect. She glowed like some ethereal creature, a tempting angel I wanted to ravage.
I trailed my palms down the length of her slender arms, loving the feel of her delicate body. My fingers brushed over wet fabric at her side, and fear punched my chest. A red stain marred the oversized white t-shirt that swallowed her fragile frame.
Evelyn was injured. I’d been so focused on getting her away from Crawford that I hadn’t stopped to check if she’d been hurt. The sight of blood soaking her side froze the breath in my lungs.
Without thinking, I fisted the cotton material in both hands and ripped it open, desperate to check the damage and do what I could to stop the bleeding.
She gasped and tried to step away from me. “What are you doing?”
I palmed the smaller crimson patch on her pale pink camisole she wore under the t-shirt. She didn’t cry out in pain when I applied pressure to the wound.
In fact, there was no wound.
It was my own side that burned, a familiar discomfort. It wasn’t the first time I’d been grazed by a bullet.
She was covered in my blood. It must’ve soaked her shirt while she clung to me on the bike.
I grunted a curse and pressed a hand to my ribs, hissing out a pained breath at the contact. My palm was painted red when I lifted it for confirmation: I’d definitely been hit when I’d jumped in front of that bullet for her.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, her pale cheeks going porcelain white as she stared at the blood on my hand. It wasn’t visible on my black shirt, and the tear from the graze must’ve been hidden by the folds of the soft fabric—it’d been rumpled in the fight.
“You’re hurt!” The sight of my blood clearly upset her.
“I’m fine, farfallina.” I tried to reassure her, but her delicate features pinched with something close to panic.
“We have to get you to a hospital.”
She grabbed my other hand, trying to tug me toward the door. I stood firm, not so much as swaying in her white-knuckled grip.
“You’re staying right here,” I admonished. “It’s not safe for you out there.”
She rounded on me, her lush lips pinched with determination. “Then I’ll stay at the safe house without you. You need to see a doctor right now.” Her chin lifted, and she seemed to grow a few inches taller as she tried to stare me down.
Despite the pain in my side, my lips curved. She was cute when she was being fierce, especially on my behalf. No one ever cared when I was hurt, not when the injury was so minor. My friends would’ve worried if I were bleeding out, but for this little graze, they’d tell me to sort myself out without complaint. They would do the same for themselves. We’d all learned how to patch ourselves up during the violent, thrilling years of our youth in Le Vele di Scampia, one of the poorest neighborhoods in Naples.
“I don’t need a doctor. I can handle this myself,” I told her, my voice sure and even. She was being brave, but I knew she was spooked from seeing the blood on me; she wouldn’t be accustomed to the aftermath of violence like I was.
I didn’t bother correcting her about the fact that we weren’t at a safe house. I’d figure out how to deal with that particular misconception soon. For now, I needed to stop the bleeding that was upsetting her so much.
Her eyes narrowed, still fierce and defiant. “If you won’t go to the hospital, at least call for a medic to come help you.”
I took a moment to consider her. Despite her firm demeanor, she was still shaken from her ordeal. Her cheeks were too pale, and her pupils were dilated with fear.
Fear for me?
My chest warmed at the prospect.
“All right, dolcezza,” I capitulated. She wouldn’t be soothed until I was cleaned up, so I’d do what was necessary to calm her.
Duarte had a private physician, and I was sure our host wouldn’t begrudge me seeking treatment. He might have questions about how I’d been injured, but that was a worry for later. All that mattered now was erasing the strain from Evelyn’s pinched features.
I retrieved my phone from my pocket and tapped out a quick text to Gian, explaining what I needed. His reply came within seconds.
On our way.
My gut tightened. Shit.
Of course, my friends would think I was gravely injured since I’d asked them to call a doctor to come tend to me in our suite. Now, I’d have to deal with the brothers’ questions, and I’d also have to navigate this situation with Evelyn. They wouldn’t be happy that I’d brought her here, and they’d be even more displeased that I’d failed to kill Crawford.
I’d made a fucking mess tonight, and I had no idea how to clean it up.
All I knew was that Evelyn wasn’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t let her out of my sight until Crawford was dead, the threat to her eliminated.
I took another moment to study her. The ruined t-shirt that swallowed her delicate frame must belong to Crawford, smothering her in his scent. It irritated me even more than the sight of blood on her pure body.
My stomach soured with something like jealousy. I barely recognized the emotion, and it made me edgy.
I grasped her dainty hand in mine and led her toward the bedroom where I’d been staying for the last few weeks. Her footsteps faltered on the carpet, but I didn’t slow to give her time to question me.
When we entered the massive bedroom, she sucked in a soft gasp and tried to dig in her heels. She tripped over those damned loose shoelaces.
I grasped her waist, steadying her before she could fall again, like she had on the concrete outside her apartment.
She didn’t pull away from me, but she froze, her eyes wide on mine like a spooked doe.
“Are you hurt?” I asked. “You fell.”
I took her hands in mine and gently lifted them so that I could study her palms. They were smudged with dirt where she’d tried to catch herself on the grubby sidewalk, but the scrapes weren’t deep enough to have drawn blood.
“I’m fine,” she replied in little more than a whisper. Her lovely eyes began to shine, and her throat worked as her emotions surged. A single tear rolled down her pale cheek, and I brushed it away.
“You’re safe now,” I promised. “I’ve got you.”
“I don’t understand…” Her chest heaved, but she forced down a sob by taking a deep breath. “What’s happening? I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Massimo,” I replied, suddenly craving to hear the sound of my name in her breathy whisper. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.”
She swallowed hard and blinked away more tears, summoning up the quiet strength I’d witnessed in her on that night I’d broken into her apartment. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be strong around me; she could cry, and I would be more than happy to hold her.
But she was still wearing Crawford’s shirt, and I wouldn’t be able to shake the last of my rage until she took it off. My fingers itched with the urge to finish ripping it off her, but that would scare her even more.
I stepped away from her and quickly strode to the chest of drawers where I’d stashed my own clothes. I grabbed a soft black t-shirt that was a clean version of the blood-soaked shirt that covered my injured torso. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the burning in my side was becoming more insistent, and I was aware of how the wet cotton stuck to my skin. The graze probably wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but I was still bleeding sluggishly.
I draped my clean shirt over her shaking hands, which were still palms-up where I’d lifted them to inspect her for damage. She was frozen, posed like a doll, and her eyes were going glassy with shock.
I cupped her chilled cheeks in both hands, trying to imbue her with my warmth.
“Look at me,” I commanded, a firm order.
She blinked, and her lovely eyes focused on mine once again.
“Good girl.”
She released a shaky breath, and some of the tension eased from her slight body.
I stroked the lines of her cheekbones, leaving a crimson smear over her creamy complexion.
Shit.
My hand was still wet with blood where I’d pressed it against my side, and I’d marred her with the sign of violence.
I quickly brushed it away with my other thumb, but a pink flush still marked the spot where my blood had tainted her perfection.
I forced myself to pull away before I could imprint her with more signs of violence.
“Change out of that bloody shirt,” I ordered, my voice holding a harsher rumble than I’d intended.
I needed her out of Crawford’s shirt, all signs of his claim over her destroyed.
She blinked, her expression slightly bewildered, like a lost child.
“Now,” I prompted, crossing my arms over my chest to prevent myself from tearing it off her.
Her hands trembled slightly as she tugged his ruined shirt from her body, revealing her modest curves that were barely concealed by the fitted pink camisole. Somehow, I forced my gaze to remain steady on hers rather than studying her feminine form; now wasn’t the time to devour her with my hungry gaze.
She dropped the bloody shirt to the floor, and I kicked it farther away. I’d burn the damn thing later if I could.
To prevent myself from helping her, I kept my arms tucked tight to my chest while she tugged my shirt on over her blonde head. She was still shaking, but I worried I would spook her if I invaded her personal space when she was in such a vulnerable state. I never wanted Evelyn to fear me.
I enjoyed seeing myself as her protector far too much.
“Massimo!” Gian’s voice boomed out from the sitting room as my friend burst into the suite.
I muttered a curse in Italian, and Evelyn blinked up at me, confused by the change in language. I’d been speaking to her in English this whole time. Hopefully, she didn’t understand Italian, so I would be able to talk to my friends without her understanding the conversation.
“Stai bene?” I asked if she was okay in Italian, testing her.
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Stay in here,” I replied in English, satisfied that she couldn’t understand. “I’m going to see the doctor now. I’ll just be in the next room.” I took a moment to gently squeeze her hand in reassurance. “No one will touch you here. You’re with me now.”
She swallowed and offered me a small, reluctant nod.
I didn’t know how long I had until she figured out that I wasn’t law enforcement, and this wasn’t a safe house. But for now, my burning side was becoming a distraction, and I needed to soothe my friends’ worries for my health.
My fingers lingered against hers as I slowly pulled away. She released a shuddering sigh when I broke contact, and she swayed toward me slightly.
Was it possible that she didn’t want me to leave her?
“I’ll be right back,” I promised.
It took all my considerable willpower to turn away from her and stride out of the room. I straightened my shoulders, bracing myself to face Gian and Enzo’s questions. My friends wouldn’t be impressed by how I’d handled the situation with Crawford, and they’d wonder why I needed a doctor for such a minor wound.
I’d have to figure out how to tell them that I had taken Evelyn, and I didn’t have any plans to let her go.