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“Not likely,” I mumble, focusing on each of their footsteps as they approach from each side. They’re close. Too fucking close.
Just as they come into view, their guns trained on me, two loud shots fill the suite, and my heart leaps into my throat for the split second it takes me to watch the two men fall to the ground.
I peek over the couch and find Elijah Russo standing in the doorway, his gun raised, but his face is a calm mask as it always is.
“Friends of yours?” he quips, looking around to make sure there’s no one else before slipping his gun into his waistband.
I roll my eyes and crawl to the guy closest to me. I slip his balaclava up, and my brows pull together in confusion. “I know this guy. He’s a contractor. You can hire him to do just about anything. Kidnap someone. Kill them. Whatever.”
Elijah crouches beside the guy on the other side of the couch and follows my lead. “This guy used to do odd jobs for Angelo.”
“They wanted Mia,” I whisper, and he meets my eyes.
“We need to get you two somewhere safe.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MIA
Itried not to let myself get used to being safe. But I guess it’s not an easy thing to deny yourself after being in danger for so long.
Perhaps I should have expected something like this, but they assured me it would be okay. But nothing is okay. All I’ve managed to do is drag my shit into their laps, and I can’t be responsible for them being in danger. I won’t.
It’s irrelevant that I barely know any of the Saint James family, or that the only reason I crossed paths with Clara is because we both found ourselves in the possession of a notorious crime boss, or that Tommy and Ace failed me in the past. I won’t be the reason they’re hurt…or worse.
I huddle between the wall and the end of the clawfoot bathtub, the cold porcelain digging painfully into my skin, but I allow the pain to push down the panic. If they’re here for me, I’ll walk out with my head held high. The taste of freedom isn’t nearly enough, but it’s something.
Gunshots slice through the otherwise quiet suite, and each one makes me flinch. What if Ace gets hurt trying to protect me? What if they kill him? The thought has dread pooling in my belly. None of this would be happening if I never came back into his life. Or if he just dropped me off at a bus station and sent me on my way.
A loud knock on the door drags a yelp from my throat, and I quickly slap my hand over my mouth. So much for showing no fear, I admonish myself.
“It’s me, sugar. Can you let me in?” Ace’s voice is soft but strained. He’s trying to sound calm, but I know him well enough to know he’s anything but right now. “It’s safe, I promise.”
I let out a shaky breath and shuffle out from my hiding place.
Ace is okay.
I’m okay.
Everything is okay.
The words replay in my mind as my trembling hand reaches for the lock, but I don’t get a chance to touch the handle because as soon as it’s unlocked, Ace barrels in, his eyes wide and frantic.
As soon as the stunning green brushes over me, he lets out a breath before tugging me into his arms. My first instinct is to panic. I don’t like to be touched. Not anymore. But there’s something about Ace’s touch that’s different. It doesn’t elicit the same terror as almost every other human being.
His hand finds its way to the back of my head, and he presses my face further into his chest. Ace has always been the calm one. Tommy had already been through so much by the time we met him, so his demons were always lurking, but Ace was nothing but calm, and that’s what makes the way his body trembles as he holds me that much stranger. “You’re okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to me.
“We need to go,” someone announces from the doorway. “I called Snow. She’s meeting us at her apartment. It’s been empty for months, and the security system is top-notch.”
Ace tenses but lets out a breath and nods. “Thanks, man.” He manages to pry his body from mine just enough that he can look down at me, but I find myself back in his arms a second later. My heart beats heavily in my chest. Was Ace really this worried about me? “Let’s pack up, and I’ll get you somewhere safe.”
He stalks out of the room before I can respond, and I find myself staring into Elijah Russo’s moss-green gaze. He seems just as confused as I am by what he just witnessed.
Two hours and three random bodyguards’ help later, and we’re set up in one of the most elegant penthouses I’ve ever seen in my life, and strangely I’ve found myself in quite a few.
The high ceilings give the space an expansive feel, the floor-to-ceiling windows that surround us bring in so much natural light even on a cool Chicago afternoon, and the white and gold accents make me wish for a space like this of my own.
Too often rich people use their money to buy the most expensive of everything, and it normally makes everything gaudy and has the opposite effect. But although I’m certain everything in this apartment costs more than I can comprehend, it’s tasteful.
