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I frown. “What? Because I left, you’re alive, dumbass. If I’d stayed in the house when Tessiano’s men invaded, we’d all be dead. If you had half a brain, you would’ve come here and contacted me like a normal person so we could figure out what to do.”
He shakes his head. “It’s too late. The Tessiano’s want blood. It’s you or me and when it comes down to it, it won’t be me.”
Well, it sure as shit won’t be me.
“Now. Where’s my money?”
“Upstairs,” I say, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my insides. “You might as well leave Cora here. She’ll slow us down and you know I won’t do anything to put her in danger.”
Marco seems to consider that for a moment before waving the gun for me to lead the way. “Dad always hated that about you. He said you were too soft and would drag me into the gutter one day.”
I lead the way, each step up the staircase echoing ominously in the quiet house. “And here we are, clawing for our lives because of his poor decisions.”
My mind races, hoping for an intervention before it’s too late. Every second that ticks by is a second closer to potential disaster—or rescue.
As we reach the top of the stairs, my ears strain for any sign of the cavalry I hope is coming. I need to keep Marco talking, keep him distracted. “You don’t have to kill me, Marco. If I give you my money, you can take it and go. If you’re on the run, what does it matter if I’m dead or not?”
“It matters to Tessiano,” he says. “He found out one of his boys helped you get away. He’s taking that personally.”
I swallow, thinking of poor Tray. If Tessiano knows he helped me escape, he’s been put down for his good deed.
Dammit.
At the top of the stairs, my gaze flicks to the windows, to the driveway, searching for any sign of Tag or his men.
Help is close—it has to be.
I just need to stall Marco long enough so that I can get out of this.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tag
The drive back to the compound seems long, but Rose is resilient and doesn’t complain. I’m just so thankful she was upstairs when the McGuire men broke in. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had access to her panic room.
“The assholes didn’t anticipate me being unreachable,” Rose says. “I could hear them over the comm system. They knew I was home; they just couldn’t find me.”
I have her hand in mine, and I give it a squeeze. “The McGuires couldn’t find their own cocks if they weren’t attached.”
As we pull up to the gate, Aiden straightens in his seat, and I follow his gaze. “What is it?”
“Something’s wrong. The guards are scrambling.”
I roll down my window and lean out. “Oi, Andrew. What’s the trouble?”
Andrew approaches swiftly, his expression taut with urgency. “Boss, someone hit the panic button at the main house. We’re about to deploy.”
Murderous rage overtakes me in a fiery storm. “Open the gate and go.”
Andrew relays the command and rushes through the guardhouse to the awaiting ATVs. As they race off, I’m trapped behind the iron gate, the hum of the mechanics having never pissed me off so badly.
Has the gate always been this slow?
The moment the opening is big enough for the truck, Aiden floors it, the SUV’s engine roaring in response as we tear up the driveway to the house.
Pea gravel spits and spins when we arrive at the house, and I turn to Rose. “Stay in the truck. It’s bulletproof, and Aiden is leaving you the keys. No matter what happens, stay locked inside.”
Her eyes are wide, her nod shaky, but she locks the doors as we disembark.
