Page 207 of Safe Word

So did I.

For half a second, I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating.

My eyes snapped to the slender arm holding the gun steady – and then down to the dark angel at the other end of it.

My woman.

Small, furious… exhausted.

Every part of her radiated the kind of rage no one taught – the kind you earned surviving men like him.

‘You won’t,’ she murmured with a delicious sort of venom in her voice. ‘Because you won’t be around long enough for that to happen.’

Ezio’s grin returned.

He wasn’t really scared. Not in the way he should’ve been.

But I was too far gone to care. Because my ruined, fucking wreck of a heart split clean down the middle at the sight of her standing there, willing to do what no one ever had.

This woman – this lioness – had drawn a line in the sand with a bullet in a chamber.

And it rewrote me.

‘What’s the sentence for threatening with a gun in this country?’ Ezio pushed, smugness returning in full force.

Another click rang out. Then another.

My vision fuzzed at the edges, colour leaching from the world as I blinked and looked up – Matteo and Gianna had drawn too. Smooth and silent, they stood motionless at the door as if it were a nice Sunday fucking stroll.

Alessio sauntered in with lazy indifference, as if this had all been a part of some family ritual.

The rat-dog – when the fuck had it come back? – yapped like mad at Ezio’s feet, tiny chest puffed with righteous fury.

Alessio bent, scooped it up, and scratched behind its ears. ‘Depends how annoying the judge is,’ he said casually. ‘Usually a stretch in the nick.’

He sank into the sofa, the dog growling quietly in his lap as if even it could sense the bastard in the room. It didn’t help that it looked insane against Alessio’s bare chest with skin like a map of old scars and ink.

‘Judge Farina?’ he mused aloud, adjusting his chest holster, pulling out one pistol after another and placing them on the goddamn glass coffee table. ‘She’s a pain in the arse. Likes to drag things out. Keep you on your toes. Mean little thing—’ His gaze cut back to Ezio, hazel eyes sharp behind the smile, ‘—makes a killer cannelloni, though.’

The dog snarled.

I couldn’t close my mouth. My heart thundered behind my ears.

‘Giordano’s lazy,’ Alessio continued in a silky voice. ‘He’ll lock you up just to avoid missing his afternoon coffee. Mean right hook – we train together every Monday.’

His grin was full and warm. But it never reached his eyes.

‘In Italia,’ Gianna contributed, ‘it’s very rude to threaten someone in another person’s house, stronzo.’ Her gun was unwavering.

Ezio shifted, but not enough to pretend strength. He could feel the numbers, the aim, the rage.

‘Anyway,’ Alessio reclined against the marshmallow couch. ‘That’s all hypothetical.’ He stretched his arms over the backrest, unblinkingly staring through Ezio. ‘Given that there are no guns in this house. So no one could really threaten anyone. Right, kids?’

‘Yes, daddy.’ Gianna raised her chin.

‘Amore, can you go help your mother look for the shotgun. She always misplaces it.’

‘She always finds it, too.’ That from Gianna. She stayed put.