“The cartel, Isabella?” I run a hand through my hair. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?”
“I didn’t ask you to follow me,” she seethes back. “I’m not going to apologize for the fact you don’t know how to stay out of my fucking business!”
“So you had a way out? Bat your eyelashes until they roll over for you, was that the plan?”
“I can handle myself,” she sneers. “The Princes' Hand has no quarrel with the cartel. That’s the Guild’s mess, not mine.”
This fucking woman.
“You’re stillItalian,sweetheart. It doesn’t make a shred of difference to them.”
Her eyes narrow. “I can handle myself.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
I readjust my grip on her arm and start to drag her up to the house.
“What the HELL are you doing?” she all but screams as she fights against my grip.
“I told you, you’re not going anywhere.”
“LET ME GO!”
I ignore her, dragging her, kicking and screaming through the front door, making sure to hit the button that will close the gates behind us. Huge, twenty-foot metal gates groan shut behind us.
Without thinking too much about it, I throw her into the living room. She turns on me the second I let go, but I step backward and shut the door in her face.
The banging that follows is to be expected. The screaming, too. But it’s not my fault she doesn’t try the handle. Maybe then she’ll figure out she’s not locked in at all.
I just need a minute.
One fucking minute.
With one long exhale, I gather myself and take in my surroundings.
The air is a little stale, I’ll admit. It’s been a while since I needed to come home. The Guild’s compound has bedrooms, and after the last couple of weeks of surveillance work, I’ve been lucky to have more than five minutes to myself.
Still, as I stalk into the kitchen, I’m pleased to find the maids have stopped by and the fridge has been restocked. I pluck out an ice-cold beer and press the glass to my forehead.
The relief is only temporary, I know. But for a blissful moment, the pain of my throbbing headache subsides long enough for me to think clearly.
When I was alerted that Isabella was on the move again, I didn’t believe it at first. After the incident at the Prince’s Hand, I assumed she’d be on damage control all evening.
But perhaps assuming that a woman like Isabella Natali possesses more than a crumb of common sense was my own mistake.
It was sheer dumb luck that she came out of the bar when she did. I was about to run off for reinforcements. Over the river might be neutral territory, but the bar was crawling with cartel guys, and I would never have been able to get her out alive on my own.
And even if I had managed to persuade someone to back me up, how could I convince them to risk their lives for her? For our enemy?
I hadn’t been thinking, no. Ican’tthink straight when she’s around and so obviously in danger. It didn’t matter when Iattacked that guy at the gym, but if I keep this up? With the cartel sniffing around? It will suddenly become very, very political.
And I can’t afford to lose any more support right now, not if the Guild is to have any hope of taking down the Prince’s Hand.
Suddenly, the object of all my headaches stumbles breathlessly into the room.
“You didn’t lock the damn door,” she hisses.
“Never said I did.”
