Page 11 of Blood Vows

“Then shut up.” She stared at him. Even now, she looked offended. Dante ripped open the car door and pushed her into the back seat.

“Safehouse is burned,” he shouted to his men. “Call Luca. Nobody goes inside until we sweep it.” He climbed in beside Elena. The driver slammed the car into gear and sped off.

“Where are we going?” Elena asked. Dante pressed a handkerchief against her arm, and she winced. His jaw tightened. They had known. Someone knew exactly where Elena was and exactly when they were moving her. That meant one of two things: they'd followed Dante from her apartment, or someone had given them the safehouse location. Neither option was good. But the second could tear the Camorra family apart.

“Dante.” He looked at her. “Where are you taking me?”

He pressed harder against the wound. “To Luca.”

Her eyes widened. “You said moving me there was dangerous.”

“It was,” he said.

“What’s changed?” she asked. “Why take me there now?”

Dante looked through the rear window at the empty street behind them. “Because now, nowhere else is safe.”

Elena stared at him. “And my father's key?”

Dante's gaze returned to hers. “We're getting it.”

“When?” she asked. He thought about the men who had just tried to kill her and about the four million dollars. He remembered the message her father had left behind. Trust no one with our blood.

“Before sunrise,” he said.

Her face went pale again. “Why?” Because someone had just risked attacking a Camorra safehouse to kill her. Because whatever her father had hidden was worth millions—maybe more. And because Dante was starting to understand that Elena Romano wasn't a loose thread in this mess—she was the center of it.

He leaned closer. “Because whoever just shot at us knows about that key.”

Elena's breath caught. “You don't know that.”

“No.” Dante looked at the blood staining the white cloth beneath his hand. “But I'm willing to bet your life on it.”

Her eyes hardened. “My life is already on the line.”

Dante held her gaze. Something dark and possessive tightened inside his chest before he could stop it. He'd been ordered to protect her. That was all this was—an order, a job, another responsibility. So why had seeing her blood on his hands made him want to hunt down every man in that SUV and tear them apart? Dante didn't have an answer, and right now, he didn't fucking want one.

“No,” he said quietly.

Elena frowned. “No, what?”

Dante looked out the window as the car sped through the darkened streets. “From now on, anyone who wants your life has to come through me first.” He felt her watching him, but he didn't look back because Dante had already made one mistake tonight—he started believing her. And he had a feeling Elena Romano was about to become his second.

Elena

Elena couldn’t stop staring at Dante’s hand. It was covered in her blood. Not much of it, considering how dramatic he was being about the bullet grazing her arm, but enough to stain his fingers and the white handkerchief he held pressed against her skin. She should have been thinking about the men who’d just tried to kill her, or the fact that the safehouse had somehow been compromised, or the four-million-dollar bank account someone had opened in her name. Instead, she was thinking about the way Dante had thrown himself over her when the shooting started.

He hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t considered the possibility that the next bullet might hit him instead. He’d simply covered her with his body. And now he was sitting beside her in the back seat, looking like he wanted to murder someone because she had a scratch on her arm. It made no sense. Especially after he'd spent most of the night treating her like a criminal.

“You can stop trying to strangle my arm,” she said.

Dante didn’t look at her. “No.”

“I’m not bleeding anymore,” she insisted.

“You’re still bleeding,” he said, showing her the blood on his hand.

“Barely, but I’m fine,” she said.