Savage Mafia King (Vicious Heirs #3)

Chapter Fifteen—Marcus

I hear him coming out with it down the line—there's a hit out on me. Not exactly a surprise, after what I just did to a member of the Castellano family, but I'm not going to sit around and wait for them to find me. Before she can so much as hang up the phone, I slip my keys into the ignition, and we take off into the night.

She finishes her call from her brother, and her head snaps around to me.

"Where the hell are we going?"

"I'm taking you back to your apartment," I tell her as evenly as I can. "And then I'm going to meet with my family and figure out what the fuck we're going to do about that hit."

"You heard that?"

"Of course I did."

"You don't seem scared..."

I grip the wheel a little tighter. If there's one thing I'm not going to allow, it's for her to see my fear. She's put so much faith in me, and I need to show her that it isn't misplaced.

"I'm not," I reply, and I reach over to grip her thigh. "I just want to make sure you're safe."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you."

"You stay with me, you're going to be in the line of fire," I warn her. "And if that happens, if you get hurt..." I trail off.

I can hardly wrap my head around what it would mean for something to happen to her, though I know it's crazy for me to be so worried. I should be focused on myself right now, not her. I should be thinking about how much I need to protect my own ass and my family, but she's the only thing I can think of.

"I want to stay with you," she says, her voice slightly shaky but certain. "You hear me? I'm not leaving without you. Wherever you're going, I'm going. It's that simple."

I sigh through gritted teeth. There's going to be no arguing with her on this, that much is clear. I keep my eyes pinned to the road and take a turn toward my penthouse. I really should be going to Valentina and Giovanni, but the chances of them allowing her anywhere near them are slim. I don't want to deal with whatever shit they'll try to throw at her if she turns up after the attack.

And honestly, she's the only person I want to be with right now. In the midst of all this chaos, it feels like she's the only one I can trust. It might not be true, but it's the only thing I have to hang on to right now, and I'll take whatever I can get.

She seems to recognize where we're headed, and she lifts her gaze nervously as we reach the penthouse. I can't help but wonder what's going through her head right now. Is she scared? Does she wish we had never gotten involved in any of this? Has the sight of me taking out one of my enemies like that thrown her? Is she just too terrified to declare that she wants to be away from me? Better the devil you know, right?

"Let me get out first," she tells me as I go to open the door. "Someone could be watching. I don't want to put you at risk."

"Isabella—"

"Let me do this," she pleads with me, her eyes wide.

I hesitate. Letting her go out there first, it could put her in the line of fire. If someone is really there, waiting to pick me off, then she's going to be dead in a split-second.

But she's right. If she steps out of here before me, then she's got a better chance of surviving, drawing out their fire. The cynical part of me is telling her to go ahead and do it—and the other part of me, the one that cares for her, is screaming at her to stay.

I climb out of the car first, ignoring her offer. I'm not letting her put herself at risk for me like that. I brace myself, ready for the sound of a bullet to come whistling over my head—but nothing sounds. I let out a sharp sigh and gesture for her to follow me out. She comes out at once, her head down, her hand in mine as we rush to the entrance of the penthouse and make it inside before anyone can hurt us.

"So they haven't got this place staked out yet," I mutter as we step into the elevator. She's gripping my hand so tightly that it feels like her fingers might punch through my skin.

"But it's only a matter of time before they do," she shoots back. "If what my brother said was true..."

"I know," I cut her off as the doors slide open and we arrive at my apartment.

She leads the way in, keeping a conspicuous distance from the windows, like she's worried she might be picked off right then and there.

"What do we do?" she whispers to me as she stares off into space.

I head to the drinks cart and pour us both something strong, then hand her a glass. She looks so small, so vulnerable against the enormity of the urban sprawl below us. Is this too much for her? Can she take it?

"I don't know."

I wish I had an answer for her.

She turns to me, eyes wide. "There has to be a weak link," she replies, as though she's begging me to agree with her. "I... I don't know what it is, but there has to be a weak link in all of this, something we can use to bring it all down."

I think as I lift the scotch to my lips and take a long sip. She's right. They've pieced together too many parts too quickly for this to run so smoothly. There's something in there, somewhere, that's going to fall apart if we apply the right pressure to it, though I don't exactly know what it is.

And then, it hits me—the conversation I had with James, the way he spoke to me about Isabella like he had every reason to believe she would betray me.

"I think I know what the weak link is," I mutter as my eyes lock on hers. "It's... it's you."

She stares at me. She looks pissed. "What the hell does that mean?"

"That's what they think, anyway," I continue quickly. "They think that you're going to betray me as soon as you get the chance. And if we can play into that, we can exploit their preconceptions and get them to let their guard down."

Her eyes harden. Something shifts in the way she's carrying herself. "What do I have to do?" she asks me, her eyes narrowing.

I can't help but grin.

"What are you smiling about?" she demands, more than a little confused.

"This is the version of you I thought I knew when we first met," I reply, gesturing to her. "You know, the badass sorority girl who can take on anything that comes her way."

She grins and cocks an eyebrow. "You thought I was badass?"

"I still do," I admit.

She leans toward me and plants a kiss on my lips, the sudden touch catching me off guard. I don't know exactly what I've done to deserve her, but I sure as hell am not fighting that, not when being near her right now feels as good as it does.

She presses her forehead to mine.

"Anything," she whispers to me. "Anything I can do, just tell me. Please. I want this to be over. For my family, and..." She trails off.

She doesn't need to fill out the rest of that sentence. She might not be saying it out loud, but she can feel this thing between us, this emotion, this need for one another that goes beyond the front we try to put up.

I'm not going to let anything get in the way of doing what I have to do to finish this.

Even if I have no idea whether she will still want to be with me when we're on the other side.