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Pain lances through my rib, making my chest tighten with every breath. There’s no doubt about it. It’s either broken or fractured. None of that matters if the key to our fortune escapes and finds her way to the Di Marco law firm or worse, Tommy Galliano.
I reach the exit, shove the door open, inhale a lungful of fresh air, and groan at the sting. Chatter fills the air from the guests that have spilled out to the front of the house. I scan the courtyard, finding six cars and four vans. One of them has its back doors open, but it’s empty.
Emberly could be anywhere.
The air fills with a high-pitch scream. I glance from side to side, looking for its source. Further down the courtyard lies a pair of discarded high-heeled shoes.
At the second scream, I burst into action and run in the direction of the shoes. It could be Emberly. My gut tightens. If anyone is hurting her…
I round the corner to find a skinny waiter dragging a woman by her hair. She thrashes, hiding her face beneath a curtain of dark curls, but the silver sparkles on her dress are unmistakable.
It’s Emberly.
My eyes widen, and her screams drown the fury roaring through my ears. Rage sears through my veins at the sight of yet another man hurting what’s mine. I reach into my inside pocket and extract my pistol.
She jerks on his arm, making him stumble forward. When the man rights himself and adjusts his grip, I raise my gun and pull the trigger.
The bullet tears through his head, sending out a spray of blood and skull and brains. His grip on her hair loosens, and he collapses to his knees. I break into a run and reach Emberly.
She stares up at me, her lips trembling, but she makes no sound. I scan her face and body for wounds, but can’t see anything since she’s covered in that bastard’s gore. My stomach drops. What the fuck happened to her?
“Emberly,” I rasp. “Are you hurt?”
Her breath comes in heavy pants, her eyes never leaving mine. She’s either in shock or in too much pain to speak.
“Don’t move.” I scoop her up off the ground and gather her into my arms. Every limb in her body is rigid, as though she’s been injected with a muscle paralyzer.
“It’s alright, baby. I’ve got you,” I murmur into her hair.
It’s only when those words sink in that her limbs finally tremble.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
“I-I don’t know,” she whispers.
“Let me get you inside.” I carry her back around the corner and toward the service entrance.
By now, all the catering staff have left the building and are gathered in the courtyard, surrounded by a quartet of my armed guards. I walk past them to find the door wedged open, so I press my palm on a security pad that opens into a stairwell.
When Great-grandfather Paolo built the mansion, he installed multiple staircases so that servants could get around to each member of his extended family. When Dad inherited the property, he closed most of them because they were a security risk.
I hurry up the dark stairs, filling Emberly’s ears with whispered reassurances. She trembles, releasing a harsh sob.
“Jim sent him,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “He was from the police.”
My jaw tightens. I never thought a cop would go to such lengths to get back at an ex, but I make a mental note to handle Jim Callahan.
“He’s gone now,” I say. “No one can hurt you here.”
I carry her through a disused corridor and into the upstairs hallway that leads to the master suite. After laying her on the sofa, I walk into the bathroom, soak a washcloth in warm water, and pull out a first-aid kit.
The first thing I need to do is wipe the mess off her face to see if there’s any damage under all that blood.
When I step out, Emberly’s eyes are already closed, and her breaths are even but shallow. I crouch beside her and take her hand, only to find her skin cold and clammy.
“Open your eyes, baby,” I murmur. “Stay with me.”
Her eyes flutter open, loosening tears. “Why does Jim want to hurt me so badly?”
