“Antonio?”
“I want you to know I love you. I am yours. Only yours.”
He was trying to reassure me as if he was about to do something that would hurt my feelings.
How sweet.
How stupid.
“You want to go get her. Just say it.”
He said nothing, frozen between his wants and his obligations, or his past and his future, or between his wife and his mistress. I put my hands on his biceps, and regretted it instantly. His body was a warm, automatic friction against mine, and I had to take a deep breath before I spoke.
“We can’t let her die,” I said. “I won’t make you choose.”
He breathed. I hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, but relief poured off him. Somewhere in the kitchen, the door to the fridge clacked open, waitstaff yelled, stoves flamed, and a shovelful of broken glass tinkled into a garbage bin.
“Grazie.”
“I am beside you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t bring you with me.”
So that was his conflict. He knew he had to get Valentina but worried about dragging me back into danger. In that moment, I loved him for his loyalty more than anything else. I was relieved he’d never considered abandoning her, and annoyed that he still considered me an asset to protect rather than use.
“If you leave me behind, I’ll follow.”
“No.”
“We live together or die together, Capo. You said it.”
“I lied.” He pulled out his gun, clicking it open, then closed it.
I crossed my arms and leaned on one foot. “She was with Daniel last. Do you know how the Sicilians are getting into his place? They can’t just stroll in and start shooting.”
“Yes, they can. Danny-boy’s worked with them for years.”
My face got red hot. I was ashamed of my ignorance and my naiveté.
He saw the prickly heat of shame on my skin and flipped the gun around. He handed it to me grip-first, blocking everyone’s view of it with his body. “Keep this, and pray for anyone who sneaks up on you.”
“I’m going,” I said, taking the gun.
“You are not. If you die, if you’re hurt, if you so much as cry again—”
“You need me. He’s the fucking district attorney. A mayoral candidate. How are you getting in? Because I’ll tell you how I’m getting in. He fucked me for seven years. I’m walking in.”
When would I stop being surprised at how fast he was? He had an arm carried by electricity, landing at the back of my neck in a fierce grip. “Are you trying to piss me off?” he hissed, his mouth kiss-close, bending my head until my face met his.
He didn’t scare me. Not one bit.
“Yes.”
“It’s not working,” he lied, the lead weight of rage heavy on his voice.
“His security detail knows me. From. All. The. Fucking.”
The dishwashers chattered in Spanish, and I realized our intensity was a lousy shield.
Antonio let me go. “Dio mio, woman. When this is over, I’m going to take you to a place no one knows, and I’m splitting you in two.”
“Take me,” I whispered, pausing before I finished… “with you. You’ll never get past security without me. And they’ll just walk in and take Valentina into a field and shoot her, if they haven’t already.”
He pressed his lips between his teeth as he always did when I was getting to him. “You are to stay with me at all times.”
“All right.”
“You do not let your attention wander.”
“Yes.” My god, every command turned me on.
“You do not use your weapon unless we get separated.”
“Yes.”
“I am your weapon.”
“Yes.” I was barely breathing.
“Say it. Say I’m your weapon.”
“You are my weapon.”
He put up his finger. “I don’t like this.”
“Yes, you do.”
thirty-two.