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“Sabotage.”
Nero looks down at me, and I can see the shock in his expression. Then his eyes harden, hiding any trace of emotion. “Fix the elevator,” he says curtly. “Post security, and comb every inch of this fucking site for more signs of tampering. I don’t care how long it takes; I want this place locked down. Understand?”
“Got it, boss.”
Nero leads me to the car where Kyle is waiting, looking pale as his eyes meet mine. I guess he caught the show, too. But I don’t have it in me to reassure him that I’m fine. I just get in the back of the car when Nero holds the door open for me.
“Take us home.”
I sink back in the cool leather seats, worn out. “Who could have done this?” I ask, turning to Nero. Now that the initial shock is fading, my head is buzzing with questions.
He shakes his head grimly. “I don’t know.”
“But I don’t understand. Were they trying to hurt you? Or one of the crew—?
My words are cut short by Nero placing his finger to my lips.
“I don’t have answers yet, but don’t worry. I’ll get them. Just relax, baby. It’s over. Everything’s going to be OK.”
He puts his arm around me, drawing me close, and I sink into his embrace. Needing the security, as my body still hums with adrenaline and fear for the whole ride home.
When we pull up outside our house, Nero insists on carrying me inside.
“I’m fine,” I protest, as he places me gently on the couch.
“You don’t look fine.”
He strides to the kitchen, and runs the cold faucet on a cloth, returning to dab at the blood on my forehead. I wince, and his eyes darken. “Where else do you hurt?”
“Everywhere?” I admit. My entire body is bruised and sore.
“I’ll call the doctor to come check you out.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to deal with being poked and prodded and asked a million questions right now. Please?”
Nero doesn’t look happy. “Fine, but I’m going to clean this cut on your forehead and check out the rest of you,” he insists. “If I think you’re seriously hurt, the doctor is coming.”
I nod, relieved, and sink back into the cushions as he fetches a first aid kit, and carefully tends to my wound. It stopped bleeding in the car, and it doesn’t hurt unless I touch it, so I have a feeling the cut isn’t deep. Nero’s unhurried, taking extra time to be gentle as he applies anti-bacterial cream and a bandage, fingertips light on my skin.
There’s something intimate about this, but not in a sexual way. His face is close to mine, our breathing in sync. I’m comforted by his nearness, and I slowly exhale the last of the tension gripping me—until the front door flies open, and Chase charges in.
Nero straightens. “What’s the situation?” he barks, all business again.
Chase looks pissed. “It was them. The Kovacks.”
Nero tenses. “Impossible.”
“I talked to the guys at the site,” Chase insists. “They saw a guy hanging around the last couple of days. Spoke with a Russian accent, serpent tattoo on his right arm. Sound familiar, yet?”
Nero swears. “Igor gave me his word.”
“And I warned you, their word means nothing.” Chase’s eyes flit to me briefly, “Guess they were planning something for you, but couldn’t pass up the chance to send a message with her.”
Chase’s words send a shiver of fear down my spine. I hate the idea that my entire existence is being reduced to my relationship with Nero. It’s as if I’m not even a person, just a means to an end.
Nero paces, and I can tell, he’s trying to process this. “We need more information,” he says. “Have you pulled the security footage?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Chase exclaims. “They’ve come after you. They tried to kill your wife. The détente is dead. It’s over. We need to go to war!”
