AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Joey's heart leaped into his throat as he saw the ringleader reach for his gun. Before he could even aim it, Joey moved without thinking—cracking the man over the head with the bottle.
The man fell.
"Nice shot," Marco said. Then he looked at the now-shattered weapon that Joey had used. "Aw shit, my bourbon."
Joey watched in disbelief as Marco subdued the ringleader, then turned to face the rest of the Petrovs. The Toscanos were cleaning them up.
The attack was over.
"Toro!" Marco called.
The man that Joey had spoken to looked up, and a broad grin spread over his features. "Marco, you son of a bitch! You're not dead yet?"
"It'll take more than that," Marco said—though Joey saw the way he put his hand to his ribs, wincing. "You got this for me?"
Toro bellowed out in affirmative, putting the boot to a hapless Petrov.
"Good," Marco said. He grabbed Joey's hand and pulled him towards the exit. "Let's get out of here."
As Toro shouted out something that sounded like 'I knew it!'in the background, Joey followed Marco, his heart racing with adrenaline and desire.
He knew he was risking everything by getting involved with a man like Marco, but he couldn't help himself.
Finally, he knew where he wanted to be.
Chapter seventeen
Joey
Astheysteppedoutinto the cool night air, Joey felt Marco's hand tighten around his own. He looked up at Marco's face, seeing the fierce determination in his eyes, and felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Are you okay?" Marco asked, his voice rough with emotion.
"Never better," Joey replied, grinning from ear to ear. "That was amazing, Marco. You're incredible."
Marco smiled back, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "You ain't seen nothing yet, baby."
"Marco, you all right?" one of Marco's men asked, rushing over to check on him.
"Nothing I can't handle," Marco replied coolly, brushing off the concern with a casual wave of his hand. "Get in there and help Toro clean this mess up."
As the men began heading in, Joey took the opportunity to approach Marco. He noticed a small trickle of blood seeping through a tear in Marco's shirt. His heart began to race as concern flooded through him.
"Hey, let me take a look at that," Joey said softly, reaching out to touch the wound tenderly.
"Joey, it's fine. Really," Marco insisted, trying to brush him off. But Joey wouldn't let it go, his eyes full of worry.
"Please, just let me help you," Joey urged, his voice cracking with emotion. Reluctantly, Marco nodded. He led Joey around the corner to where he'd left his car, opening the door to the back seat.
It was a big car, and the windows were tinted, giving them all the privacy they needed. The two of them got inside. Carefully, Joey unbuttoned Marco's shirt, revealing the bulletproof vest—and once that was off, the toned muscles beneath. His gaze lingered on Marco's sculpted chest before he forced his attention back to the wound. The sight of blood made his stomach churn, but he knew he had to be strong for Marco.
"Looks like it's just a scratch," Joey murmured, doing his best to reassure Marco. "I'll get you cleaned up in no time."
"Thanks, Joey," Marco replied, the gratitude evident in his voice. As Joey worked to clean the wound, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him. Marco was alive, and that was all that mattered.
"Kid?" Marco whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he gazed down at Joey with a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability.
"Yeah?" Joey replied, his eyes locked on Marco's.
