“I know you are. You’re doing great. We’re almost out of here. Any allergies?”
She shook her head. Gino didn’t wait, but injected her with morphine. He was almost desperate to take away her pain. Her fingers traveled up his chest and found his jacket, curled there and held on. That little gesture disturbed him as nothing else could have.
She didn’t look away from his face. Not once. Not when he injected her. Not when he could see the drug take her, not when he cut his own tee from her body.
“What’s your name?” Her voice was whispery soft. Trembling still, but the terrible tremors were easing with the drug floating her.
“Gino. Gino Mazza.”
“Thanks for getting me out,” she said softly, her voice beginning to slur, letting him know she was already drifting. Her fingers clutched at his arm. “Don’t leave me.”
That was distinct. Very distinct. Her lashes, caked now with sticky infection, fluttered, but refused to go down. She was waiting for his answer. Refusing to give in to the painkillers.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here, standing guard.”
Her eyes searched his face. Something in the hard angles and planes gave her reassurance. He was certain that close scrutiny would have frightened anyone else.
“Go. To. Sleep.” He made it an order.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. She relaxed completely, still holding his hand, but her fingers went slack and those lashes finally drifted all the way down.
6
Z
ara didn’t want to open her eyes. He’d laid cooling cloths over her swollen eyes and face, soaking them in something each time they warmed and placing them back over her eyes. Gino. Gino Mazza. She woke often, too terrified to sleep. He murmured soft words of encouragement and tried to get her to sleep. She knew she was at the embassy, but she wanted out of the country. She knew what kind of influence Cheng and Zhu had. She couldn’t go back there, and she wasn’t going to sleep until she was safe far, far away from them.
There had been a delay and she knew Gino wasn’t happy about it. At the same time, she was running a fever and he gave her massive doses of antibiotics and told her it was just as well they weren’t flying in the air for hours while her body was so torn up. He was rough, bossy, scary, and sometimes, the things he said to her echoed the orders Zhu had given her. Zhu’s voice was always gentle, Gino’s not so much. That comforted her, that even when Gino was trying to be gentle, there was a note in his voice that said he could handle anything. Anyone. He could handle hell coming at him.
She didn’t need or want nice. She needed scary. Dangerous. Someone capable of stopping Zhu. She needed strong. Confident. A man willing to do things that Zhu was willing to do if necessary. She knew there weren’t too many good guys that were like Gino and she wasn’t about to get too far from him.
She’d been given painkillers, really heavy ones that gave her relief and allowed her to drift off, but all she saw when she closed her eyes was Bolan Zhu. He terrified her. She woke, every time she fell asleep, crying her eyes out. That added to the raging headache. Through it all, there was his voice. It had a rough note to it. Deep and raspy. Not the voice of an angel. The owner of that voice didn’t have the face of an angel either. More like a beautiful devil. She didn’t want him to leave her side and every time he tried to, to her utmost horror and humiliation, she’d grabbed his hand and clung.
Clung. Like a baby. She was one of Whitney’s GhostWalkers. A reject maybe. One that was useless as a soldier. She’d proven that. She certainly hadn’t been stoic under torture and as tortures went, hers had probably had been mild in comparison to what happened to most others. Cheng had acted as if Zhu had taken it easy on her. Zhu had acted the same.
A shudder ran through her body and she tightened her fingers around his. Her guardian devil. Gino. She wanted him to be real, a terrible demon, and she didn’t care if he was sent from heaven or hell to save her. He’d done it. He’d come for her and gotten her out. He’d carried her to the roof, strapped her to his chest to fly through the air, ran with her to the embassy and gotten her inside.
Zhu had come for her, staring at her, determined she come back to him. She knew he wouldn’t stop coming. Not ever. It wouldn’t matter if she was in China, or the United States, he would come for her. If he ever got his hands on her … She shuddered. It would be bad. So bad.
Strangely, Gino even used some of the same phrases when he talked to her that Zhu did. He wanted her to answer him when he asked a question. He insisted she look at him when he spoke to her. He had a way of dictating to her, using his voice to command her. With Zhu, she’d been terrified. With Gino, she was comforted. She felt as if Gino would take care of everything for her, make certain she was safe and secure.
She knew she was becoming too dependent on him, and it wasn’t fair to him. He did everything for her. He had to take her to the bathroom. See to her every need. She was horrified and humiliated, but he didn’t let her be that way. He was gruff about it, telling her to knock it off and that it wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t let others see her without her clothes and he even managed to tame her hair. He seemed to know when she was uncomfortable and anticipated her every need.
She found herself thinking about Gino as a man. His eyes. She’d looked up at him, and his eyes had caught her attention. Cool, nearly black eyes. Like obsidian. Gleaming like a cat’s. Fierce like a cat’s. Just as cool. His lashes were unexpectedly long and for some reason, she’d fixated on that. Held it to her. Did demons have long lashes?
They were going on day four and she still refused to let him leave her side. She couldn’t help it. She expected Zhu to climb through the window and take her back. She was desperate to get out of China, although to be honest, she didn’t think that would stop Zhu from coming after her. Gino had moved, trying to let go of her hand, and she refused to let him.
“You have to stop shivering or I’m going to have to climb in bed with you and share body heat,” he warned. “I was just going to step out of the room for a moment.”
He sounded serious. She didn’t care. She wasn’t losing him. She shook her head and tried to squeeze his fingers. His hand was significantly larger and stronger than hers, but he didn’t try to break away from her. He sank down onto the bed again.
“You’re killing me, Zara. We’ve got you safe. We’ll get you home and Bellisia will take good care of you. Everyone will. You’ll be doted on like every beautiful princess should be.”
She wasn’t beautiful anymore and she wouldn’t be ever again. She couldn’t bear to look at herself in the mirror over the sink in the bathroom. It wasn’t about whether or not those marks would leave scars or fade altogether; they were there, below the surface of her skin. Bolan Zhu had put them there and no matter how her skin healed, or how often she scrubbed, she would never remove what he put on her. Another shudder went through her.
She hated that she was such a coward—and she was. She couldn’t stand being in Shanghai. She couldn’t stop being terrified long enough to fall asleep. Seeing Bellisia would be wonderful. Brilliant. She couldn’t wait, but if her demon was thinking he might leave her, he had another think coming. She wasn’t certain, even if they were free and clear of Zhu, she would be able to let Gino go. That wouldn’t be happening until Zhu was dead, so it wasn’t happening at all.
“Not Bellisia.” She wanted to make that clear.