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I fucking hate weakness.
Hate it.
From a young age, I was taught to never show weakness.
Weakness is an excuse. And I don’t make excuses.
My entire body hurts today. Pretty sure I ran off adrenaline yesterday.
Today the pain has set in, no matter how much I try to will it away.
Today I feel weak. Mentally drained and physically failing.
We’re no closer today to finding who set the bomb that killed my father. Dean and Nick think it was the Sabatinis. They believe the old man knows we’re up to something. That this was a preemptive strike. They’ve got no evidence. My gut says they’re wrong. Old man Sabatini isn’t that fucking smart. I’m missing something. Someone. I just can’t figure out what.
Truthfully, I’m glad Amelia wants to lie down, though I’ll never tell her that.
She takes my hand, thinking she’s forcing me to follow as we pass by Marco, who’s talking with one of the guys. “Boss, you need anything else from me?”
I look over at the tempting vixen in front of me. “Do you have anywhere else to be today?”
She shakes her head no, then raises her eyes suggestively. “Just bed.” Her devious smile conjures all sorts of filthy thoughts.
“No, Marco. Go home. But you’re on Amelia for the rest of the week. She’ll text you later with her schedule for tomorrow.” Snow drops my hand and stomps up the stairs, no doubt pissed off that she has a bodyguard again. I take a step closer to him. “Listen to me very carefully. Your entire job this week is to make sure she stays safe. Keep checking in like you did today. Let me know what’s going on. It’s gonna piss her off, but so long as she’s safe, I don’t care.”
When he looks like he’s about to argue, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him toward me. “If one single hair on her head gets hurt, I will kill you. It will be slow. It will be painful. And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be praying for death. Begging for it. Got it?”
“Yeah, boss. I got it.” I drop my hold, and he straightens his shirt. “Nobody gets near Amelia.”
“Good. Now go home. Get some sleep. She’s probably going to want to go to the shop before the sun fucking rises again tomorrow.” I turn and walk up the stairs, careful not to let him see how much the movement takes out of me.
These men need to think I’m unbreakable.
Indestructible.
When Dean originally placed Marco on Snow, I couldn’t figure out why. He’s on the young side. He’s lean and lanky with a baby face. A fucking pushover. Not intimidating at all. Nothing like his father, who can make a man piss his pants without even touching him. Marco always comes across as mellow. What I didn’t know was that he’s a perfect shot. He might even be able to give Amelia a run for her money. And that’s saying something.
Dean told me he’s the best shot we’ve got in the entire organization, said he was a sharpshooter in the Rangers. Until I know who killed my father and what they’re after, I’m not taking any chances.
Not with Sebastian.
Not with Nonna.
And not with Amelia.
Not on my watch. Not ever again.
When I open the door of my old bedroom, there’s no Snow to be found. The blinds have been drawn, leaving the barest hint of the late afternoon sun to leak through. The men have been talking all day about how cold it is outside.
Frigid.
Everyone’s talking about snow. It doesn’t often happen this early around here. Not this early in November.
The sound of the shower running draws my attention toward the bathroom. The door is open. Well, it’s cracked open. It’s open enough that I can see in. Jesus Christ, it’s like her entire goal in life is to torture me. The glass shower doors are fogged over, but I can see Amelia, whose eyes have locked with mine while she washes the shampoo out of her hair. The sweet-smelling white bubbles sluice down her shoulders and over the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen.
Breasts I need to touch.
Need to taste.
