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I try to keep them open, but they keep closing.
“You’re okay.” Nero kisses my forehead. “You’re okay, Baby.” He hugs me tighter. “I see you’re wearing my sweatshirt. Just couldn’t stay away from my things, could you.” He kisses me again. “If I could fit in your clothes, I’d wear them too. Wouldn’t care if it was covered in yellow flowers, I’d sleep in it every night I was away from you.”
There are other voices now. All male. And I try to look around, try to understand what’s happened, but the first thing I see is a large splatter of blood marking a wall.
Squeezing my eyes back shut, I decide I don’t need to see.
“It’s all my fault.” I nearly choke on the words, needing to get them out.
“No.” Nero hugs me tighter. “It’s not. This whole household was living on borrowed time. The world will be better without them.”
Nero shifts, stepping through a doorway sideways.
“Keys in?” He calls the question to someone I can’t see.
“Yeah, Boss.”
“Good, open the passenger door. I’m driving her home in this one.” I hear a car door open. “Tell everyone to leave.”
“You got it.”
Nero sets me on the seat, taking the time to buckle me in.
Before he closes the door, I hear him give one last command.
“Torch it.”
CHAPTER85
Nero
The men are already filingdown the driveway when I pull Mikhail’s car out of his garage. We’ve used our twenty minutes, and it’s time to clear out.
My rearview mirror shows dark plumes of smoke already billowing from windows of the mansion. And even though I’d love for this bright red, my-dick-is-small sports car to be a part of that burning mess, knowing I’ll send it to the chop shop as a finalfuck youto Mikhail makes me feel better about taking it.
Payton groans a little as she settles further into the seat, and I make sure to take the corner slowly as I turn out onto the street.
“We’ll be home soon, Sweetness.” I rest my hand gently on her thigh, not sure where she’s hurting, not wanting to do more damage.
Her small palm covers my hand, so I flip mine over and lace our fingers together.
Her fingers squeeze mine. “Is that a plane?”
She mumbles the question a moment before her head lulls back.
* * *
The docand her assistant were waiting at the front door when we got home.
I called her from the air, knowing Payton would be hurting from the car wreck. But no amount of preparation or experience could prepare me for seeing my girl like this. Laid out on our bed in her underwear, bruises covering most of her body.
Payton woke up while we undressed her, but didn’t ask any questions, just nodded when I told her the doctor was going to look her over. And I’m glad the doc was smart enough to bring her female assistant. Because if another man tried to even get a fucking glimpse of Payton right now, I’d likely rip his head from his shoulders, medical professional or not.
“I’m going to use an ultrasound to check for fractures, but that’s just a precaution. I don’t think anything is broken,” Doc tells us as she sets a laptop up on the nightstand before nodding to me. “While we’re doing this, you’ll get stitched up.”
If it wasn’t for the constant glances Payton kept taking at my torn sleeve, I’d’ve forgotten I was even shot. It’s just a tap. Barely a flesh wound, in and out of the bicep, but I’m not going to give Payton one more thing to worry about. So, I sit at the foot of the bed, my injured arm facing away from Payton, out of her sight, and I let the assistant do what she needs to.
Payton continues to stay quiet, answering questions about pain levels, moving body parts as requested, and I ignore the fact that the assistant doc just stabbed my arm full of Lidocaine without asking. It’s probably for the best, because simple gunshots are still a bitch to clean, and I have better things to focus on than suppressing my own pain.
