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"What?" I scowl. "I am not going anywhere with you."
"You do have to get that cleaned up," Aurora says in a reasonable tone.
I turn to her. "I'd rather you do it."
Aurora hesitates.
"I can do as good a job as you, Doc," Seb interjects.
Aurora begins to speak, but he holds up a hand. "I have training in first aid."
"You do?" I whip my head around to look at him. The scrape on my forehead protests, but I ignore it.
He tilts his head.
"Are you lying?" I scowl up at him.
"Would I lie to you?"
"Wouldn't you?" I retort.
He surveys my features. "One of us was always getting hurt growing up. It made sense to get some basic training so I could take care of wounds. Thanks to the good doctor here, that occasion has not arisen until now, but you'll be pleased to know, I’m going to make an exception in your case."
I scoff. "And if I decline?"
"Not giving you a choice. I’m not letting you go anywhere until I ensure your wound is bandaged by me personally," he explains reasonably.Damn him.
I glower. He holds my gaze. Those gorgeous, golden orbs of his bore into me. Damn it, he’s not going to back off, is he? Well, too bad. I’m not going to simply fall in line with whatever he asks me to do.
I gasp as he bends down, wraps an arm around my back, the other under my knees, and straightens with me in his arms.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
"You could have done this the easy way, but you left me no choice."
"Let go of me." I shove at his chest.
"Once I’ve seen to that cut on your forehead."
I notice Aurora glancing between us. "Don’t make me regret this," she warns. She narrows her gaze on him. "You take good care of her, you hear me?"
"Oh, I intend to." He smirks.
Is there a hidden meaning to his words? I peer into his features, but the expression on his face seems sincere.
"Here," Aurora holds out her medical bag.
"We’re better equipped than whatever you're carrying in there, I assure you," Seb throws the words over his shoulder as he marches toward the inner part of the house. He passes the rest of his brothers, who are deep in conversation—presumably plotting the end of whoever was crazy enough to shoot at the house of the grandmother of the Don of theCosa Nostra. OMG, someone was shooting at me. Someone was trying to kill me, and if Seb hadn’t pushed me out of the way, they might have succeeded.
A trembling grips me and my teeth begin to chatter. I try to squeeze my lips together, try to curl into myself, to bury myself in his shirt, but nothing makes it better.
"Shh..." He holds me closer to his chest. "It’s okay, you’re safe now."
For some reason, I believe him. And it's nothing to do with the fact that his chest is broad, and the heat from his body is furnace-level hot, or that he smells soooo good. I draw in a huge lungful of Seb and my head spins. Nothing can hurt me as long as he has his arms around me. Why do I feel so safe in the embrace of one of the Mafioso who rule this city? Or is it precisely because I know what he does for a living that I’m confident he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt anyone who’d dare come after me? OMG, he really is John Wick come to life, isn't he?
"Who…who was that, who shot at me?" I ask, mainly because I want to stop the line of thought buzzing through my mind.
"Whoever it was, he doesn’t have much longer left to live," he answers in a grim voice.
