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Despite the sweat dotting my brow, the wave of adrenaline coursing through me felt like ice. She was covering for me.
“You still keep that back door propped open?” Footsteps came closer. “Mind if we take a peek?”
Emilia let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, but don’t touch anything. I worked all morning organizing those books, and the order is very specific. I’ll miss the shipping deadline.”
She kept at it, chittering away at them and fussing over the books as I heard three sets of footsteps follow her into the back storeroom. My heart thumped. Emilia’s voice got closer and closer, and for one wild second, I thought she was about to fling the door to my supply closet open, but then she turned away from where I hid with her back to the door.
Planting herself directly between her brothers and me.
“See? There is no one here.” She grumbled. “Now go away. Some of us actually have work to do.”
Once again, her voice trailed away, the three men grumbling as she shooed them out the door. I waited a full five minutes, not willing to take any chances, and then eased the door open.
The store was empty.
Relief and disappointment washed over the residual adrenaline from the last few minutes, leaving me feeling strangely hollow. I wasn't sure what I expected. Yes, I was glad to have shaken those three meatheads--I thought I'd been well and truly fucked--but I'd have been lying to myself if I ignored that little pang of disappointment over seeing Emilia gone as well.
Not that I had any real expectations in mind. She'd risked her own skin to help me. I still couldn't get over that. What went through her head when she saw my tattoos? She must have recognized them. I wish I could've seen her face when they told her who I was. Did she flinch? Disgust? Surprise? Was it guilt that twisted her pretty mouth, maybe pity? She'd gotten a good look at me while I was still on my feet, but I was a mess. Emiliahad risked her neck for me, one of her enemies, without a second thought.
I stretched, grimacing at the pull and burn of the bruises along my side. My hip was going to be black and blue tomorrow. It was already starting to stiffen up, and I tried not to limp too much as I walked back toward the alley where this whole shitshow began. I needed to leave.
"Hey."
I spun at the sound of Emilia's voice. Christ, she was good at sneaking up on me, that was twice, now. I was losing my touch. "Emilia Moretti."
"Emilia Russo, actually. Everyone assumes I took my stepfathers name." She smiled, but it wasn't unkind. "But I don't know yours."
I opened my mouth to lie to her, but she was looking at me with those big brown eyes, so trusting, and I couldn't. Not after what she’d done for me. "Alfie. I'm Alfie Doyle, and I think you already know who I work for."
Her eyes strayed to the Gaelic on my knuckles. Blood and honor. "I know what you are."
"Then why did you help me?" I stepped closer to her, close enough to smell her, old books and rich coffee and something floral and sweet. Her lips parted, but she didn't retreat. "You lied for me to your own family. Why?"
Emilia clutched a book to her chest. I hadn't even realized she was holding one, but the way her dainty fingers thumbed at the pages made me wonder what they'd feel like against my skin. Her gaze dropped, taking in my unkempt hair, bloodied lip, and torn clothes.
"Because you needed it," she whispered.
"You don't even know me."
She didn't quite frown, but a little crease appeared between her brows. "Dom is a bully. Three on one is hardly fair odds."
My mouth twisted into a smirk. "The fact that you think those are bad odds is adorable."
"You're a modest one, aren't you?"
"My fighting skills come second only to my sense of self-preservation. After my good looks, of course."
She snorted, lips twitching up into a crooked smile, and I grinned. I’d been wrong-footed ever since setting eyes on her, but I hadn't lost my touch, after all. I leaned into Emilia’s personal space, just enough to make her breath catch. "I really should thank you for helping me."
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in a silent gasp.
I couldn't stop myself. I closed the distance between us and kissed her.
It was a small kiss, bordering on chaste. Lips to lips and still clutching the book, Emilia's breath hitched, and she let out a little moan that sent my blood roaring in my veins. I wanted to take her up against the bookshelf, let her hair down, and fist my hand in her ebony locks as my fingers (and my cock) unraveled every single one of her secrets.
But I didn't. Instead, I settled for the slightest nip along her bottom lip, a brief little taste before I pulled back, something inside me purring contently when she leaned into my absence. Wrecked was a good look on her.
"Maybe I'll see you around, Emilia Russo."
