Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
The room was no longer spinning, but it was fuzzy at the edges; my full focus was on him.
Two fingers curled beneath my chin, lifting my face to his. Those shining silver eyes stunned me, and my brain blanked for a few merciful seconds.
My next breath came easier. I could feel his steady heartbeat beneath my cheek where it was pressed against his chest, and my own heart slowed to match it.
“No one is going to hurt you,” he said with the weight of an oath. “I’ve got you.”
A shadow of fear flitted at the back of my mind, but I was too mesmerized by his intense gaze for true terror to stir. Or maybe I was simply wrung out from all the trauma I’d faced in the last few hours. Exhaustion rolled over me, making my entire body feel oddly heavy. I sagged in his arms, all instinct for fight or flight draining out of me.
“You don’t work with George,” I said, my voice strangely soft. I was so tired, and all that tethered me to reality were his arms and his silvery eyes, which seemed to hook my attention like a lure.
His lips pinched in a frown, but he maintained his gentle grip on my limp body. “No, I don’t.”
“This isn’t a safe house.”
“It’s not.” The admission was clipped, as though he was reluctant to say it. “But you are safe here.”
“Who are you?” I asked on a little puff of air. My terror was still a mere flicker through my thoughts, kept at bay by his heavy hand over my heart.
“No one you should fear.” His thumb caressed my chilled cheek, and I was tempted to lean into his warmth.
I barely resisted the urge. Something deep inside me knew this was wrong; Massimo was a dangerous man. I shouldn’t find comfort in the hands that’d killed at least two men.
To save me.
“You were there,” I whispered. “In that basement. You’re the one who…” I trailed off, unable to put my roiling emotions into words. He’d killed for me, but he’d also saved my life.
“Yes,” he replied, firm and unrepentant. “I will always protect you, Evelyn.”
He’d protected me from the man who’d tried to roofie me in the bar.
He’d jumped in front of a bullet for me tonight.
But he was associated with the cartel somehow.
Maybe he was a good man. Maybe…
“Are you working undercover?” I asked, grasping at straws. “Is George?” I already knew the truth in my heart, but I had to ask, a tiny spark of hope still flickering in my chest.
His beautiful features twisted into a scowl. “Your fiancé,” he spat the word like it was poison on his tongue, “isn’t working undercover. He’s corrupt, Evelyn. He’s a dirty agent. The coward ran. He abandoned you. I saved you. I will always do what’s necessary to protect you.”
“You don’t even know me,” I protested, thoughts tangling as my heart was crushed beneath the weight of the awful truth.
I didn’t understand why Massimo was so committed to ensuring my safety if he didn’t work with Interpol. If he wasn’t one of the good guys, why would he care?
“I know you’re innocent. I know you’re a good woman. That’s reason enough.”
But how could he know that?
Is she innocent? he’d asked in that basement, during my nightmarish ordeal with the cartel.
He’d been in the market last weekend, watching me.
He’d been in the bar at precisely the right time to scare away that creep.
And he’d been in the alley tonight, as though he’d been waiting to rescue me.
My blood ran cold. “You’ve been stalking me.”
His jaw ticked with something like irritation, and his arms tensed around me ever so slightly. “I’ve been stalking Crawford. He’s working with Los Zetas. I’m just doing a favor for a friend.” He shook his head, glossy black curls swaying around his sculpted face. “At least, that’s how it started. I won’t lie to you, Evelyn. I’ve been after Crawford, but you’re the one I care about. You’re in danger because of him—because of his negligence and selfishness. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. He’s not worthy of you.”
My stomach churned at the implication. “And you are?” I shot back, fear finally surging to the fore along with my defiance. “You’re a criminal. You work for the cartel, don’t you? Let me go!”
I wriggled in his arms, but he didn’t budge an inch. He simply held me, fixing me with a shining glower, until I stopped struggling. I crossed my arms over my chest and tipped my chin back, making my outrage apparent even though I couldn’t physically fight him off.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. It was a decree, a vow.
I swallowed hard, my stomach dropping.
“I don’t work for the cartel,” he countered. “But Stefano Duarte is my friend. Your fiancé,” his lip curled in disgust, “is working for his rivals. I’m doing Duarte a favor.”