Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Massimo
Lorenzo Ferraro lies on a concrete floor with two shattered knees and a future that looks nothing like the empire he planned.
Pride swells inside for the woman standing over him with a gun pointed at his balls.
I can't move. My feet are planted in the doorway and my pulse is hammering so hard my vision darkens at the edges.
The woman I left shattered at a restaurant table is standing over Lorenzo Ferraro with steady hands and blood on the concrete and I don't recognize her.
No. I do. I've just never seen her at full power before.
Her blue eyes harden for the fraction of a second she gifts me with her gaze. The pulse in my neck jumps with the pressure exerted against my heart in that one look. She clears her throat like it’s a chore to force words out.
“I’m done letting others control my life, Massimo. I don’t have anything else to say.”
Exhaustion hits me as I peer down at her. For thirty of my forty years I’ve fought for my place in this world. Blood, bullets, and balls have kept me alive. But the defeat in her tone knocks the wind from my lungs. She might as well turn and put a bullet into my heart.
I inhale deeply and live in her scent.
Men enter the room and Luca who stands at my back directs them to secure the area.
Kon's voice carries from the corridor, low and commanding.
Luca pulls out his phone, coordinating with Rafael and fills him in on the shooting.
The machinery of the Syndicate moves with the precision I've spent fifteen years building with my brothers, but none of it matters right now.
The only thing that matters is three feet of concrete between my body and hers.
I walk toward Sloane. Each step feels heavy.
Glass crunches under my shoes. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh white light across the blood pooling beneath Lorenzo's ruined legs.
His breathing comes in ragged, wet gasps and I step over him without looking down because the man on the floor is no longer relevant.
The woman in front of me has my full attention.
I stop three feet from her. Close enough to see the fine tremor running through her jaw, the muscles working beneath her skin as she fights to hold the composure that carried her this far.
Close enough to see the mascara gathering at the corners of her eyes where tears pressed but didn't fall.
Close enough to smell the acrid trace of gun smoke clinging to her fingers and the fading scent of her perfume underneath, warm and familiar and mine.
Her knuckles are white around the grip of her weapon, her fingers locked in place. I realize she's not holding the gun because she needs it. She's holding it because letting go means admitting it's over and she's not ready for the adrenaline to stop.
"Sloane." My voice comes out rough, scraped raw. "Give me the gun, tesoro."
The moment she trusted me with her body, she became my world.
Mine. All mine.
There were no words of love between us then, but my life became hers that night.
My soul belonged to her and with it came my blood and loyalty.
I’ve worked hard to protect her, but I see now that I should not have taken choices away from her.
It was bad enough I tricked her into marrying me.
If I want to keep her I’ll have to work for her hand and her heart until the day I die.
Her blue eyes find mine. Red-rimmed, exhausted, fierce. For three heartbeats she doesn't move. I watch the battle happen behind her eyes, the warrior receding, the woman surfacing. She recognizes me and I hope to God she knows she is safe.
I lean into her space and make sure her beautiful eyes lock on mine. “No one will touch you, tesoro. You have my word. You are safe.”
Her fingers loosen. One by one. Her index finger releases the trigger guard. Her middle finger uncurls from the grip. Her ring finger. Her pinky. The gun sits in her open palm and I reach forward and take it, the metal warm from the heat of her hand.
I engage the trigger lock and pass the weapon behind me without looking. My eyes don't leave hers.
“Santi will want that back.”
“Noted.” I’ll have to personally thank him for making sure my woman could protect herself and also ask why he let her storm the castle so to speak instead of holding her until I could get to her.
“You took off and I’ve been hunting all over the city for you for the past two hours. The only way I knew you were here is because Harlon tipped me off.”
“It doesn’t feel good being left out of the loop, does it?”
“Touché, tesoro.”
God, she’s beautiful when she fights me.
Those pretty lips of hers shift from tight and indifferent to slightly parted and flushed with blood.
Kissable.
I keep my hands to myself and keep my promise until she shows signs of wanting to be touched. But it’s hard not to drag her to me and show her just how much she means to me. Screw having an audience. Let them watch and see what love is.
Her hands hang empty at her sides. The tremor she was hiding spreads from her jaw through her shoulders and down her arms until her fingertips vibrate and her chin starts to quiver.
I watch the armor crack in real time. Not the rockabilly exterior, but the woman of steel underneath.
The internal fortress she built to walk into this building and do what she did.
It held long enough to get the job done.
Now it's giving way and I can see the fractures spreading across her face in the way her brow furrows and her nostrils flare and her lips press together so hard they lose their color again.
I open my arms. I don't reach for her. I don't pull. I open my arms and hold them there, palms up, and wait. Because I have taken enough of her choices and this one, this moment, belongs entirely to her.
She steps into me.
The impact of her body against my chest pushes the air from my lungs. I hold her to me, breathing in her scent, locking in her warmth and making damn sure she feels mine.
It washes away the pain of the last few hours of being scared to death of not knowing where she was. I hold her against my chest and her curves mold to me. She tightens her hold around the material of my shirt over my shoulders.
The sound she makes is not a sob. It's deeper than that. A release that starts in her chest and vibrates through her ribcage into mine, a shuddering exhale that lasts so long I feel her lungs empty completely before she draws the next breath.
My arms tighten around her. I hold her so tight I feel her ribs expand against my forearms with every inhale. Her heartbeat pounds rapid and hard, and I press my cheek against the top of her head and breathe.
"I'm sorry." I press the words into her hair, my lips moving against the loosened curls. "I'm so sorry, Sloane."
She doesn't answer. She holds on. I hold on. We stand in the wreckage holding each other because there is nothing else left.
Harlon arrives twenty minutes later. He walks into Lorenzo's building with Santi and Cassius flanking him, his dark eyes sweeping the scene with clean efficiency.
His gaze moves from Lorenzo's crumpled body to the blood to the shell casings scattered across concrete to Sloane sitting on an overturned crate with my jacket draped around her shoulders.
He crosses to me. His scarred knuckles flex at his sides and he studies my face for a long moment before he speaks.
"Your wife dismantled a contract I spent a week vetting.
" His voice is quiet, pitched below the noise of the cleanup.
"She sat across from all three of us and laid out evidence I should have found myself. Frankly, she’s a badass.
" His dark eyes cut to Sloane and back to me.
The corner of his mouth pulls. "Let her handle your negotiations from now on, Santoro. We might all learn a thing or two."
His praise levels me.
My throat tightens. I swallow hard against the swell of pride rising in my chest because this is not the time or the place to let it show. But goddamn, this woman. She’s more than I deserve.
“I hear you.”
I glance at Sloane. She's watching us from the crate, her blue eyes tired and sharp at the same time, the water bottle clutched in hands that have finally stopped trembling.
“Where do we stand? Are we good?”
“Lorenzo brought dirty papers into my house.
That's on me for not catching it sooner.
" His dark eyes hold mine, steady and unapologetic.
"The contract is voided. My runners stand down effective immediately. As far as Genesis is concerned, the alliance with the Syndicate stands the way it always has.”
“I understand how it works. No hard feelings.”
He unlocks his arms and clasps my shoulder.
His grip is firm, the rough calluses pressing through my shirt, and he holds it for a beat longer than business requires.
His dark eyes soften by a fraction, the smallest shift, and I feel the weight of what passes between us.
Two men who understand what it costs to love someone in this world.
"Take care of that woman. She’s earned her spot in our world."
I nod. My hand comes up and covers his on my shoulder and I grip it, hard, my fingers pressing into his scarred knuckles. He grips back.
He turns and walks out with Santi and Cassius falling into step behind him, three silhouettes disappearing into the night.
Harrison arrives an hour after we leave Lorenzo’s place.
It took a while to secure his place and Rafael sent more men to lock it down.
Turns out, Lorenzo has been a busy man. After working on Harrison, he had his sights set on the Syndicate.
Foolish boy. Hard drives, hard copies and maps with all our territories outlined filled his house.
We have it all now. It will take some time to weed out the men he’s put in places to infiltrate our business, but it’s part of life in our world.
The doorman lets me know Harrison has arrived over the intercom. Without saying a word, Sloane takes my hand and we both head down.