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I don’t know if I’m about to get a hard on or pass out. Single-handedly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, but also, my heart is still palpitating from seeing the blood and thinking it was hers. I stride over to her, ignoring the slumped guy bleeding out, and grip her shoulders. I scan every inch of her for injuries. Nothing. Just a small red mark on her wrist.
And then my eyes meet hers, and she sucks in a breath. I pull her against me and wrap my arms around her. And to my surprise, she hugs me back, nuzzling her head against my chest.
“What did he do to you?” I whisper.
“He wanted me to delete the pictures I took earlier in the kitchen. He then pointed a gun at me, told me he was going to fuck me, and shoved me against the wall, so I beat the shit out of him and stabbed him,” she says it so matter-of-factly.
I pull back. “Good girl.”
Her cheeks flush red as she peers up at me through her lashes. That alone makes my chest tighten. I need this woman, a lot fuckin’ more than I ever anticipated.
She sits up on the counter between the sinks, tapping her gun against her thigh, glancing down at her victim. “He’s passed out, and he’s one of Nikos’ men. What shall we do with him?” she asks.
“Well, we either kill him now, or we take him for further interrogation.”
As I’m speaking, I’m clocking how much she’s fidgeting. How her breathing is becoming more erratic. She’s like a grenade that’s about to blow.
“G. What’s the matter?”
She pouts, clenching and unclenching her fist. “I’m severely pissed off, Colten,” she says. And then proceeds to shoot the man between the eyes.
“Okay. That’s this problem solved,” she mutters.
I nod. “What do you need from me?”
Why the hell am I even asking this? At what point did Gianna’s feelings hold such weight over me? I can’t deny this possessive force inside of me that needs her. That wants her.
She thinks for a second, then instead of stepping over the man, she uses him as a step down and calmly states, “The rest of his friends dead. That’s what we need to do.”
I don’t hesitate. I drag the dead weight of the Greek into one of the stalls.
“Give me one of those hair clips,” I say, holding out my hand. She does, placing the black pin in my hand.
For my plan, I need this cunt locked in here until I can come back later. Opening the pin, I shove it in the lock until it clicks. That might give us some time.
She’s already rummaging through the cupboards, pulling out some bleach and a cloth.
“Throw it here,” I tell her, holding out my hand.
I ain’t having my wife cleaning up blood when she’s dressed like a damn goddess. Catching the bottle of bleach that flies at my head, I snatch the cloth from her and do a quick wipe-down of the blood, then shove the cloth into the trash.
“That’ll buy us some time.”
“They aren’t going to call the cops if they’re mafia,” she says bluntly.
“But a civilian might,” I counter. And the place is heaving with them.
I’m going to make sure Nikos knows there's a bullet with his name on it.
She shrugs, her eyes darting around the hallway. I follow her line of vision to the emergency fire button.
“How do you feel about sending a message with me, Colten?” she challenges.
Music to my damn ears. I know damn well my wife is thinking what I am. Because the universe brought us together, maybe because we’re two of the fuckin’ same.
I wrap my hand around her throat and push her against the wall, making her breath hitch. “I want to go back in there and tear that motherfuckers hands off. So, I’m open to ideas.”
“What if we wait for the restaurant to empty out? We all know the main guys aren’t going to leave here, and he certainly isn’t getting out…” She nods to the bathrooms behind me.
