Page 123 of Blood Vows

“You may not like what I know,” he said.

“I haven’t liked anything that’s happened tonight,” she breathed.

“That’s fair,” Marco said.

“And if you find out my father worked with the Camorras?” she asked.

“I tell you,” he promised.

“If he stole your encryption?” she asked.

“I tell you,” he assured.

“If he betrayed your family?” There was a pause, and she noticed that Marco’s eyes hardened.

“I tell you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And if you decide I’m the threat Luca thinks I might be?” That one took longer for him to answer. Valentina watched him as Marco stepped closer.

His voice lowered. “If I thought you were the threat, Valentina, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Her pulse jumped. “That’s not reassuring.”

“It should be,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes. “Because I’ve already decided you’re not the person I need to destroy.”

She swallowed. “And who is?”

Marco looked toward the damaged SUV and then back at her. “Whoever keeps trying to take you from me.” From him—not from the Camorras, or from Luca, but from Marco. Valentina felt the words settle somewhere they shouldn’t.

She stepped into the elevator before he could see how deeply they landed. But when Marco joined her and the doors slid shut, she realized something far more dangerous than the men who had chased them through Queens. She was starting to believe him.

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Wade

Rain slammed against the windows of Wade’s Watering Hole hard enough to rattle the glass. The neon beer signs buzzed overhead while the scent of whiskey, smoke, and fried food settled heavily in the air. It was late enough that most of the crowd had cleared out, leaving behind only a few Savage Bastards lingering around the pool tables in the back. Wade preferred it that way because it meant less noise and less bullshit.

He stood behind the bar, wiping down the counter while an old rock song played low through the speakers. The rag moved steadily beneath his hand as he surveyed the room out of habit more than interest. Owning a biker bar taught a man to pay attention. People got stupid when alcohol got involved, and Wade had made a career out of shutting stupidity down before it became a problem.

The front door suddenly flew open under the force of the storm outside, and cold wind and rain rushed into the bar. Every head turned as a woman stumbled inside, looking like she’d barely survived the night. Mud coated the bottom of the white satin dress, clinging to her body beneath an oversized black hoodie. Her blonde hair was soaked, mascara streaked beneath wide blue eyes that darted around the room like she expected danger to come crashing through the walls behind her. The entire bar went silent, and Wade straightened slowly. She didn’t belong there—not in a place like Wade’s Watering Hole, and not around men like the Savage Bastards.

One of the prospects at the back let out a low whistle. “Damn.” Wade shot him a look sharp enough to shut him up instantly. The woman took another shaky step forward before catching herself against a nearby table. Her breathing sounded uneven, panicked, like she’d been running for a long damn time. Then Wade noticed the blood smeared across her wrist.

His expression darkened. “Kitchen’s closed,” he said calmly. Her gaze snapped toward him immediately, and fear hit him square in the chest. Not because she was scared of him, but because she was scared of something much worse.

“Please,” she whispered. That one word sounded broken enough to scrape against his nerves. Wade tossed the rag onto the counter and studied her carefully. She was wearing an expensive dress and diamond earrings that could probably buy everything he owned and still leave money in her bank account. There was a wedding ring still on her finger. But the thing that stood out the most was the bruises hidden badly beneath the makeup that she wore. He was sure that she was a runaway bride, but women didn’t show up at biker bars in the middle of the night unless something had gone very fucking wrong.

“What happened to your wrist?” he asked.

Instinctively, she covered it with her other hand. “Nothing.” He could tell that was a lie because Wade had heard thousands of them sitting behind this bar. Hers wasn’t even close to believable.

Headlights suddenly swept across the front windows, and the woman froze—actually froze. Every ounce of color drained from her face as several black SUVs pulled into the parking lot outside.