32. Neomi
I barely register the compound as I pull through the gated entrance because my body is still shaking, still waiting for the next thing to go wrong. My hands stay clenched on the steering wheel even after I park, knuckles white, pulse hammering under my skin.
A woman is already walking toward me. She’s tall, confident with fiery red hair that’s pulled back in a loose knot, black jeans, boots that look broken-in. She smiles when she reaches my door.
“You must be Neomi,” she says as I step out. “I’m Shelby. Hale’s wife.”
I blink. “Okay,” I say flatly. “Hi.”
Shelby gives me an understanding look. “Yeah. That’s usually the response after something like this.”
She gestures toward the building behind her.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside before the adrenaline wears off and you start shaking worse than you already are.”
“How do you know that will happen?”
She grins. “Experience.”
We walk together toward the front door, and inside, the noise fades. The air smells like coffee and disinfectant with something metallic underneath. Shelby leads me down a short hallway and into a quiet room tucked away from the main space.
The room has soft lighting and almost looks like a comfortable living room, with a couch and a couple of low tables. I stand there stupidly for a second, unsure what I’m supposed to do next.
Shelby leans against the doorframe, arms crossing loosely. “So,” she says. “First time in a car chase?”
“Yeah.”
I hesitate, the question slipping out before I can stop it. “Is this…normal?”
Shelby shrugs. “Normal for everyone? No. Normal for women who fall in love with men like ours? Yeah. Unfortunately.”
“Oh, we’re not in…” I pause because I’m really not sure how I feel when it comes to that word yet. “You just…accept living this way?”
She studies me for a moment, then softens. “We don’t accept the danger. We accept reality. And we make damn sure the men we pick know how to protect us. I think you have a capable man in that department.”
I don’t have a response for that. My body finally seems to realize it’s allowed to stop running, and when it does, the floor drops out from under me, and my hands start to tremble.
Shelby notices instantly. “There it is,” she says gently. “Sit.”
I sink onto the couch, my breath going uneven now that there’s nothing left to focus on. The images of the past thirty minutes replay in my mind. Shelby crouches briefly in front of me, presses a cold bottle of water into my hands.
“He’s on his way,” she says. “He’s already inside the gates.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I was fine,” I say, not even sure who I’m convincing. “I wasn’t scared until now.”
“That’s usually how it goes,” she replies. “You want me to stay?”
I shake my head. “No. I think…I think I just need him.”
Her expression warms. “Yeah. You do.”
She stands, squeezes my shoulder once. “I’ll give you privacy. Welcome to the world of organized crime, sweetheart. Sorry this was your introduction.”
She starts for the door just as Lars enters the room.
He rushes into the room and drops to his knees in front of me without a word, hands coming to rest on my thighs, forehead pressing to my chest like he needs the contact as much as I do. The sight of him like this—controlled, dangerous Lars reduced to relief—undoes whatever composure I had left.
“I’m here,” he says, voice low. “You’re safe.”
That’s when my body gives up.
The adrenaline drains out of me so fast it makes my vision blur. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding on as my chest tightens and my breath breaks apart.
“I didn’t feel fear until now. I just kept driving,” I whisper.
“I know,” he murmurs, arms wrapping around me, pulling me into his chest. He rocks us gently, grounding me. “You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”
My face presses into his shoulder, the smell of him anchoring me. “I don’t like that this is part of your world.”
His hand moves slowly up and down my back. “I don’t like that you were pulled into it.”
We stay like that for a long moment, my shaking easing as his presence does what it always does—making me feel safe and seen.
When I finally pull back, his eyes are on my face, hands in my hair. “You don’t have to be strong right now,” he says quietly. “I’ve got you.”
He rises to sit beside me, pulling me into him. I place my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat beginning to slow.
As he grips me tighter, I say, “I know you do.”
But right now, as I sit shaking in his arms, I’m not sure if that’s true.
I’m curled on the couch with my legs tucked beneath me, Lars seated behind me, one arm anchored around my shoulder. He hasn’t left me since we got home. Not when I kicked off my shoes. Not when I changed into his shirt. Not even when I told him twice that I was fine.
He shifts, adjusting me closer, his chin resting at the top of my head.
“You’re fussing,” I say gently, more amused than annoyed.
“I’m not,” he replies.
I tilt my head back just enough to look at him. “You are absolutely fussing.”
His mouth curves, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m holding you.”
“I’m okay now,” I say. “You can breathe.”
He exhales slowly through his nose, tightening his arm for a second before loosening it again. “I know.”
I turn in his hold, shifting so I’m facing him, my knees brushing his thighs. “You don’t have to stay wound this tight,” I tell him quietly. “I’m right here.”
“I know where you are,” he says. “That’s not the problem.”
His thumb traces the seam of my shirt, back and forth, grounding himself as much as me. I watch his eyes, the fear still there.
“I don’t like that I wasn’t there,” he adds. “I don’t like that someone thought they could get close to you and survive it.”
“You have them now,” I point out. I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his. “Lars. I’m safe. You did everything right.”
“I should be telling you that.”
His hands slide to my hips, pulling me closer until I’m seated fully in his lap. He drops his forehead to my shoulder, breath warm against my skin through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.
“I need to hold you a little longer,” he whispers. “Just let me, please.”
I sink into him, head on his chest. Minutes pass like that.
Us holding each other in the quiet, his heartbeat strong against my cheek—until his phone vibrates on the coffee table.
I feel the change in him before he moves.
The way his body tenses, attention snapping outward.
He reaches past me for the phone, eyes already narrowed when Enzo’s name appears on the screen.
He answers, one arm still wrapped around me. “Talk.”
I don’t hear Enzo’s voice, but I hear the change in Lars’ tone. The way his jaw sets. The way his free hand curls into a fist against my thigh.
“What do you mean he’s gone?” Lars asks.
A pause.
“No,” he says flatly. “That doesn’t happen by accident.”
My stomach tightens.
He sits forward, places a kiss on my cheek and gently moves me off him. He stands and begins to pace the room, phone pressed to his ear.
“When was the last confirmed sighting?”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“You’re sure it was him?” His voice drops.
Whatever Enzo says next drains the color from Lars’ face.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “The file too?”
I sit up straighter, my heart starting to pound.
“That was restricted,” Lars continues. “Only five people had access to—”
He stops, eyes closing briefly as something clicks into place.
“Gallo,” he says. “So let me get this straight. He questioned Zara when you introduced her, played loyal long enough to stay useful, and now he vanishes with intel on a planned hit inside Falco territory?”
Another pause.
“Do you think he sold it or was he working for someone?”
Lars drags a hand through his hair. “We fucking vetted him. He was part of our crew for three years.”
His voice hardens, something cold and dangerous settling in. “If Gallo handed Falco that file, then Falco knows our timing, our routes, and who we were willing to sacrifice to make the point.”
He stops pacing, turning toward the window like he’s looking miles away.
“Neomi was followed today. We have the man in custody with the Saints and he’s connected to Falco. Fuck, Enzo…this isn’t a coincidence. We’re not safe here. She’s not safe.”
Lars stares out the window, listening and nodding while he runs his hand through his hair.
“I’ll come back to Chicago,” he says. “Tonight.”
A spark of panic runs through me.
“I’ll handle it,” Lars continues. “I want twenty men assigned to me when I get there. Gallo has too much family in Chicago to go very far.”
He listens for another few seconds, then nods once. “Yeah, this is priority now. I’ll have Cash and Hale keep eyes on Sera.”
He ends the call and stands there for a moment, phone still in his hand, shoulders squared like he’s already bracing for impact.
“Lars? Is everything okay?” I say quietly.
He turns, crossing the space between us in two strides. He drops to his knees in front of me again, hands on my legs, his gaze lifting to mine.
“We’re leaving tonight.” He exhales, eyes darting between mine. “Please tell me you’re okay with that.”
I look into his eyes, now filled with so much worry and I wonder how I could tell him no.
Part of me worries that once we go to Chicago, I’ll be held under watchful eyes in the name of protection.
I know deep down that my life will change if I follow him.
Hell, my life has already changed. A million scenarios run through my mind of what a life there will look like with him.
But I also see the care, the devotion, and the bone deep worry in his eyes.
He wants to protect me, provide for me, and keep me.
There’s a small voice inside that tells me to say yes, that I will never feel the way I feel for him with another man.
It whispers that this is my chance at love, no matter how fucked up it might look from the outside.
I can’t leave him.
I nod once. “I’m okay with it, Lars. I travel to make my living, remember? A different city doesn’t matter. Just tell me why I’m not safe.”
His hand moves to the back of my neck. “Falco is as unhinged as they come. He has a track record of using women and putting them in danger to get what he wants, and I need you where you can be properly protected. Where I know you’ll be safe.”
He’s still kneeling between my legs, and I take his face in my hands. Gently, I place a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Lars Marchetti, but I trust you. If Chicago is where we need to be, then we’ll go.”