Page 62 of His Savage Vow
He takes the device from my hand, rattling off the address quickly before laying it down on the floor. Then hecrouches beside me, his hand on mine, forcing more pressure on Enzo’s chest.
“Stay with me, Enzo!” Maximo orders, his tone commanding even as his right-hand man, his closest family, slips toward unconsciousness.
Tears blur my vision as I cling to the towel, blood soaking through. For one horrible moment, Enzo goes limp, and I think we’ve lost him.
But then the distant wail of sirens cut through the night.
Maximo’s grip finds my shoulder, steady and strong. “He’s not gone. I’m going to hold on to him and keep the pressure up; you go lead the responders to us,” he directs me.
I give him a nod and bolt towards the front door. Someone must have locked it during the shooting, probably Enzo, and as soon as I throw it open the police burst inside. I wave them in, along with the paramedics who pull into the driveway just a few minutes later.
Within ten minutes, Enzo is rolled out on a stretcher, an oxygen mask pressed to his face as they whisk him away. He’s still alive. Barely.
I collapse and sit back on the kitchen floor shaking, blood staining my hands, as Maximo’s shadow looms over me. His men are still shouting, and the manor is filled with chaos, but all I can hear is the pounding of my heart and the echo of his earlier words.
Marry me. Right now.
Maximo wants me to marry him, to become a permanent part of his violent world.
32
Maximo
The estatestill reeks of gunpowder, splintered wood, and blood after the paramedics haul Enzo away. Leonard went with his son in the ambulance; the old man’s face twisted with grief and shock that mirror my own torment.
I stand in the wreckage of my house, my mind caught between two instincts, to try and comfort Constance or go to the hospital and pace the floors.
“Come with me,” I say as I place my hand firmly at the small of her back. She’s pale, streaked with dust and blood that thankfully isn’t hers, but her eyes burn with the same stubborn fire and fury I know all too well. “Let’s get cleaned up, firefly. I need to see you whole.”
Back in my bedroom, I make sure she’s unhurt, watching her closely until the tremor in her hands eases under the hot water of the shower. It’s hard to believe we were here less than an hour ago making love. Only when she’s safe behind the door,do I strip off my ruined shirt, wash the filth from my skin, and change.
Downstairs, the staff is already at work. My crew moves through the wreckage with quiet efficiency, sweeping up shards of glass and taping up heavy plastic across the gaping front windows. The place looks less like a home and more like a fortress scarred from a siege.
A figure I recognize as Detective Brandon Walsh with the local gang investigation unit is speaking with a group of uniformed officers just inside the front doors. There’s a detective in my fucking house. Years of keeping this manor clear of law enforcement undone in one night.
Walsh spots me at the base of the stairway and walks over. Taking off his hat, he places it over his heart. “Your gate guard didn’t make it,” he says gravely. “I’m sorry, Maximo.”
I give a single nod, my jaw clenched. Trevor Mills was working the gate tonight. He wasn’t family, but he was a loyal employee. One more life lost in the war those fucking Volkov bastards forced on me.
Walsh gestures toward the tablet one of his men carries, which is playing back surveillance footage they’ve already downloaded from the computer at the front gate. The footage shows two black vans with no license plates smashing through the gate and opening fire. A quick, brutal assault.
“We don’t have any hard evidence tying it to a specific group yet,” Detective Walsh says. “But off the record? I’d say this is payback for that press conference where you put the Bratva under the spotlight. They didn’t like it. And now they’re lashing out.”
I let the words sink in as I struggle to keep my face stony against the tide of emotions roaring through me. I know damn well it was the Bratva, but I also know better than to ever givethe police more information than they absolutely needed. “What’s your plan to keep this from happening again?”
“We’ll start with a police presence outside your gates. That will be some deterrent, hopefully enough to make them think twice about coming by again for another visit.”
I agree with a curt nod. Let the city pay for its own negligence, for letting these bastards take root here in the first place. My fortune and my connections will do the rest.
“What else do you need from me to help your investigation?” I ask him. I’m eager to get the police out of my home as quickly as possible so that I can begin planning. And this time, I’ll have to do it without Enzo, my right hand and closest friend. The police can handle justice. I’ll handle the retribution.
“If you have another computer here where the footage from the security cameras at the front of the house is stored, we’d like to get copies of that as well.”
“Luca,” I call to my younger cousin whose just appeared from the basement stairs carrying a large roll of plastic sheeting. “Show the detective to the security room and help him get copies of our surveillance footage. If you need me, I’ll be upstairs.”
With the detective situated, I climb the stairs again, back to where Constance waits. She’s seated on the edge of my bed, her hair still damp, eyes sharp despite the ordeal.
“We need to finish our talk, firefly, before the world finds another way to interrupt us.”
