Chapter 1
Chapter One
Hannah
A car screeches into the alleyway behind Garden of Eden, my flower shop.
Armando’s cousin, Marco, who was stationed in the alleyway to protect me, whirls, hand reaching for the gun strapped to his side.
I instinctively flinch, my heart stopping. A guy leans out of the open window, gun raised and aimed directly at us. Time seems to slow as Marco's eyes widen with realization. “Get down!” He lunges toward me, throwing me to the cold concrete ground behind the garbage dumpster.
Marco’s body shields mine as the deafening sound of gunfire fills the alleyway. He lifts his gun to return fire, but before he can, he’s hit.
Pain flares in his eyes. His body jerks.
I scream. Blood splatters everywhere, and some of it pools on my legs, hot and sticky.
“Marco!” My voice is barely audible over the cacophony of gunfire hitting the metal dumpster.
My hands tremble as I reach out to touch him, the reality of the situation sinking in. This is no random act of violence—we were targeted.
“Stay down,” he grits through clenched teeth, his body trembling from shock or adrenaline.
Even as his blood pools between us, he never takes his eyes off me, as if determined to protect me at all costs.
Oh God.
I’ve already seen one man die in the last week. Already been exposed to the violence of Armando’s life. But that death felt surreal. Like watching a movie. Marco is a man I know. Armando’s cousin. If he dies–
No, I can’t even think it. He’s still breathing. He seems alert.
Voices shout from the car, "That's not him" and "Go! Go! Go! Go!” It speeds away, leaving a cloud of dust and the sound of squealing tires as the only evidence of the drive-by.
That’s not him.
They were trying to kill Armando, and they came to my shop. To the alleyway behind it. Does that mean they’ve connected me to him?
Is he no longer safe in my apartment?
That thought chokes me.
Marco's blood keeps draining, staining my clothes and skin. He groans and rolls partway off me, trying to push himself up.
“Take it easy. I’ll call for help.”
I search for my phone and see it cast to the side. Armando . I was speaking to Armando before this all happened.
“Armando!” I cry out, trying to pull my legs out from under Marco’s. “Armando, Marco’s hit!” Maybe he can still hear what's happening and now knows we are both alive but in danger.
Almost as if summoned by my voice, Armando appears at the mouth of the alleyway, his eyes wide with panic. He takes in the scene before him—Marco injured and me covered in blood and shaking uncontrollably.
"Hannah!" He runs to us, but his gaze is only on me.
“I'm okay, but Marco's hit."
“ Madonna mia , what the fuck happened?” He crouches beside us, his hands hovering over Marco, like he’s unsure where to touch or how to help. Fear is etched on his pale face, a vulnerability I've never seen from him before.
“Your buddies,” Marco groans, shifting to sit up and gritting his teeth against the pain. “They came out of nowhere.”
“Did you get a chance to see who they were?” Armando demands. I can see the gears turning in his head, already planning retaliation.
“I-I don't know,” I stammer, still in shock. “I didn't see their faces.”
“Fuck.” Armando's gaze shifts between Marco and me, his concern palpable. “We need to get you both somewhere safe. Can you walk?”
“Of course I can walk,” Marco scoffs, trying to climb to his feet. His face contorts with pain, and he collapses back onto the ground. Armando's jaw clenches, and he picks up Marco’s arm to wrap around his shoulder, heaving him to his feet.
“Yeah, you're not walking anywhere like this.”
I move to the other side of Marco to help. Together, we manage to hoist Marco to his feet, each of us taking one of his arms over our shoulders.
“Mando,” Marco says quietly, his voice strained. “I didn’t see it coming.”
“We’ll worry about that later,” Armando clips. “Right now, we need to focus on getting you both out of here.”
As we half-carry, half-drag Marco out of the alleyway toward my shop, my thoughts whirl with a gut-wrenching realization: my life has become irrevocably intertwined with this dangerous world and the man who brought me into it.
Not that witnessing him kill a man with his bare hands hadn’t already bound us together.
Blood soaks the back of Marco’s leg, and I see Armando take it in, his nostrils flaring. “We need to get you to the hospital,” he says.
“I'm fine,” Marco insists through gritted teeth as I try to steady him on his feet. “Just get one of the guys to dig the bullet out.”
“Shut up,” Armando snaps. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Give me your keys.” He props his cousin up against the brick wall by my back door.
“Dude, I don’t want blood on the seats of the Beamer.”
“You’d rather go in an ambulance?”
He makes a growling sound in his throat. “Fine.” Marco reluctantly gives up his keys.
“Can you hold him up for a minute, Flowers? I’ll pull the car around.”
“Of course.” My voice breaks. I’m still shaking all over, in total shock.
Armando must catch the fear in my voice because he pauses, gaze roaming over me again, as if he’s still searching for any sign of injury.
“I’m okay,” I promise. “Go get the car.”
Worry clouds his dark eyes. “Are you sure?”
I nod, trying to ignore the lingering fear that clings to me like a second skin. “I'm fine. Really. Go!”
He gives a jerky nod and jogs away.
A few minutes later, a BMW zips into the alleyway and stops. Armando throws open the passenger door, then climbs out to help me get Marco into it. I climb into the back seat.
“You should just dump me in the front,” Marco says when Armando takes off. “I wouldn’t want this to affect your parole.”
Armando’s jaw tightens. “This is my fucking fault,” he snaps.
“Quit your pity party, stronzo . I’m the one who got shot. You’re gonna drop me in front and drive away. Call Leo and make sure he keeps it from our ma then come in with him when he arrives, like you just found out.”
Armando looks grim, but nods. I see him checking the rear view mirror at me.
“I’ll go in with him,” I say. “I’m not on parole.”
“No,” Armando says immediately. “I don’t want you tied to this in any way. Capito ?”
At the hospital, Armando speeds up to the curb of the Emergency area. “Hey, caging ,” Marco rasps. “Don't worry about me. Just a flesh wound.” He throws open his door and tumbles out, somehow managing to stagger toward the entry.
“I should go with him.”
“Stay,” Armando growls, his gaze on his cousin for a moment longer before he guns the car and peels out.
He circles the hospital then pulls into the parking area and shuts off the car. Armando's hands shake as he pulls out his phone. “I need to call Leo,” he mutters, gaze darting around the parking lot as if expecting another attack at any moment.
“Leo, it's me." Armando's voice is thick with urgency when Marco’s brother answers. “Marco's been shot…. In the alleyway at Garden of Eden. He was protecting Hannah. It was meant for me. Yeah, we're at Cook County now. Meet me here. And Marco said to keep this from your ma.”
The conversation ends quickly, and Armando slips his phone back into his pocket.
When we get out of the car, he’s still scanning me for injuries, like he thinks I secretly got shot and didn’t tell him.
“Are you hurt?”
I shake my head.
“Let me see,” he insists.
He wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me closer to him. His touch sends shivers down my spine, but it’s exactly what I need to quiet the shaking in my limbs. It grounds me.
Armando's hands move gently over my body, checking for any injuries. He growls at the scrapes on my knees from the pavement. “Fuck, Hannah. Thank God you weren’t hit.” He drops his forehead against mine.
“Armando...” I begin, unsure of what to say or do.
“I’m sorry, Hannah.” Armando's arm remains wrapped around me, his breathing ragged as he surveys our surroundings, his gaze darting from one shadowy corner to the next. I sense the tension building in him. “Sorry you’re caught in my web.”
“I’m not,” I say softly. And it’s true.
If Armando hadn’t killed a man in my shop last week, I wouldn’t have the privilege of knowing him. Of knowing what it means to be possessed by a man like him.
And I wouldn’t give that up for anything.
But his expression is blank, like the shooting tweaked his PTSD. He just shakes his head. “I wanted you safe from all of this.”
“Hey.” I place my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me. “I am safe. And Marco will be okay too, Armando.”
His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see something raw and vulnerable there. “I don't know what I'd do if that had been you, Hannah.” He swallows hard. “I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”
“Everything’s going to be fine. I’m fine. Marco soon will be.”
Armando shakes his head. “Nothing is fine right now. But I’m going to make damn sure it will be.”