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“Seems he was trying to take liberties not offered to him.”
“Motherfucker,” I rumble.
Angel and some other guy I’ve never seen before glare at me. I scowl but don’t argue. I’m not having this fucking conversation in front of a man I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t owe any of these fucking people an explanation.
“He wasn’t,” Mads says, and I feel the brush of her body on my side as she steps forward. “I thought he was one of Alessio’s men.”
Relief washes over me. I was afraid for a long moment, not that she was accusing me of it but that she really felt like I would do that to her. In the moment, I wasn’t so sure that I wouldn’t, regardless of how her body was responding to mine. I was out of my head with lust and need. I honestly didn’t know if I could have stopped myself if she begged me to.
“Why is he in fucking cuffs?” Angel hisses. “Take them off. You’re not a fucking cop.”
Nash shrugs, seeming less affected by Angel’s anger than a smart man would be.
“Just doing my job,” Nash grumbles.
“Not going to stop you from getting your ass beat,” I remind him as he pulls the metal from my wrists.
I turn to face the man, my hands wringing the sore spots the cuffs caused. Nash looks thrilled at the prospect of going head-to-head with me and it makes me wonder why he used a gun in the first place if that’s the case. We could’ve easily had it out in the living room of my safe house if he wanted to challenge me.
“Can’t wait,” he says, winking at me.
Angel turns his attention to Madelene, and instinct tells me to step in front of her, to protect her no matter the cost. It leaves me frozen because it’s been a lifetime, it seems, since I’ve felt that way.
The way he scans her makes me wonder if he’s looking at her like a paycheck. I don’t know the man’s reasoning for doing what he does, but more often than not, money is what motivates people. He could very possibly not give a shit about what happens to Madelene so long as the motherfucker gets paid.
“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Angel demands, drawing a warning growl from my throat.
Lauren steps forward. At first, I think she’s going to go all momma bear for her man, but there’s a knowing grin on her face.
Mads opens her mouth to speak, but she squeaks instead, a weird sound I’ve never heard, when she looks over Angel’s shoulder.
She steps around the guy most would consider my boss, and I move to step in front of her. I have no real way to protect her other than my hands, but I don’t have time to evaluate why I’m so fucking willing to take a bullet for this woman.
I haven’t kissed her lips.
I haven’t sunk inside her hot cunt.
There’s absolutely no reason for me to feel so protective of her.
The man behind Angel growls, a possessiveness to the sound that makes my hackles go up. It’s very possible Angel is double-crossing all of us. Alessio could’ve easily offered more money than her father did for her safe return.
“Step away from my fucking sister,” the man demands.
Confusion stops me in my tracks. A million considerations hit me all at the same time. It’s not the first time I argued with myself that she was playing me the entire time, that she was the one in control. What other reason would she have to stay? Her freedom was hers to take the second I untied her hands.
She was so damn tearful when she told me about her brother’s death. Coldness I’ve only ever felt once before settles back inside of me. Even her next words don’t have the ability to change how I feel.
“How?” she whispers. “You’re dead.”
Chapter 26
Madelene
Dizziness washes over me.
So many things have happened today. I don’t know what to believe.
Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe I’ve been hurt and my fantasies are blurring with reality.
How many times in the last several years have I wanted my brother to rise from the grave and rescue me?
Why would he choose now when I’m not so sure I need to be rescued?
Hollis wants to protect me. He stepped in front of me, was willing to block whatever harm may come my way.
I can’t recall a time anyone but the apparition across the room did that, and eventually even he stopped doing it when challenged by Marcello as a teen.
“Elio?” I whisper.
There was something familiar about the man, causing my inability to speak while my brain tries to figure it all out.
He looks different, no longer a boy of seventeen but a man. His face is covered with a full beard, tattoos covering mottled skin on his right arm. His earlobes are both plugged with huge black pieces of jewelry.
