Page 77 of Broken Vows

I hug her close and lift her chin with my fingertip. “And I have everything to lose. I’ll protect you with my life if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Don’t say that,” she murmurs, but I’m already closing the gap between us, and when we kiss, it’s as if the world stops existing.

I’m gentle with her now, not only because we’re in an enclosed space and it seems to shrink with our need, but Tony is in the front seat, and my driver is constantly looking in the rear-view mirror. I’m not keen on giving anybody a show.

Gigi’s hand slips into my jacket and under the holster with my gun.

“Angel,” I murmur against her lips. I’m not comfortable with her so close to a weapon. It’s dumb, because they won’t, but things could go wrong.

“Boss,” my driver says, and I look up. “We have a tail.”

What the fuck? I don’t glance back, but meet the driver’s eyes in the mirror. “You know what to do.”

He accelerates and changes lanes, cautious, but putting distance between us and whoever is following us. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t even on our radar.

Gigi stares out of the back window, her eyes wide.

“Keep your head down.” I pull my phone from my inner pocket and press the speed dial for Dominic’s number. He answers in seconds, having been on standby in case shit hit the fan.

“All clear?” Dominic asks.

“No, we have a tail,” I say as I glance back. “Luca has Vincenzo?”

“Yes. Bait and switch works like a fucking charm every single time.”

I don’t want to be charmed; I want my wife safe. “Why do we have a tail, then?”

“Boss, we have two now,” the driver says as he swerves, tires screeching.

I wrap my arm around Gigi.

“Where the fuck did the other one come from?” I hiss.

“Slipped in from the side,” Tony says, his gun shining in the streetlights as we speed past. “This isn’t a normal tail.”

“What the fuck’s going on, Steph?” Dominic shouts into the phone.

“We’re being tracked. And how the fuck did that happen?” I growl. Gigi has shrunk into a ball next to me, hiding. “Get someone on this, Dom, like innow.”

“Got it,” he says.

I kill the call as the driver speeds onto the highway. He accelerates even more as the road clears.

I pluck my gun from its holster as I run my hand over Gigi’s hip, recalling how Vincenzo rested his hand on her in greeting, and I almost lost my shit. It took everything in me not to rip at him in that moment and to let the scene play out. That fucker will never touch her again.

“Check your dress,” I say as I feel her down with one hand.

“What?”

“Feel your dress for anything weird. Vincenzo might have planted a tracker on you in the gallery when the fucker touched you.” Seems par for the course, given what Franco wanted to implant in her arm.

“You saw? Oh my God,” she whispers, in panic running her hands all over her body.

“Of course I saw, angel. And I wanted to fuck up his face for touching you.”

“Oh, my…what? Here.” Her hand stops on her back and she leans forward so I can follow her hands in the dark. I freeze when I touch the small capsule-sized device Vincenzo must have stuck on her back. Between the folds of the dress and the zipper, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

“Fuck,” I hiss as I rip it off, taking some fabric with it. After giving it a quick inspection in the dark, I open the window and toss it outside. I want to keep it, but have no choice.

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