Page 12 of Royally Embraced: RBMC

She listened while Jeter explained what had occurred without interrupting. Hearing them mention the Masseria name brought a cold sweat to her entire body. One of her biggest fearsof being dragged back into the fold had been too close for her peace of mind. Being a witness to her fair share of evil deeds by that family ensured she knew her place, and it was far, far away from New York and anything to do withFamily. Her mother, on the other hand, loved hard and blindly, swearing Gino Masseria to be the loving husband he portrayed. Tori knew better. She’d tried to get her mother to see the truth before it became too late. Only Tori had been too late to save her mom. Hell, for years she’d pretended to be ignorant in order to survive, knowing her mother’s killer lived under the same roof as her. Her stepfather was a ruthless man who’d taken out anyone who stood in his way, like her mother, like her. Gino Masseria never allowed anyone to disrespect him or his honor. Her running away when he’d had a plan for her to marry meant she’d signed a death sentence for herself four years ago. She couldn’t tell Jeter that, though. Heck, she didn’t know if the one who shot at them had aimed for her or him.

She’d often thought of different scenarios where Gino or her stepbrother confronted her. None of them had involved dark alleys and bullets whizzing by.

“Hey, you feeling alright? You look like you’re going to pass out or throw up. Either one isn’t a good option, farfallina.” Jeter’s deep rumble soothed her frazzled nerves.

“Ah, already using nicknames. Our Nonna would say this is—”

Tori jerked her head toward Jeter as he switched the phone to his ear. The two men spoke in low tones, but she could only hear Jeter clearly. She swallowed several times.

The man drove like a maniac through traffic with the phone stuck to his ear with one hand. The other, he held the steering wheel like he was a professional race car driver, twisting it back-and-forth between cars. Tori let out a little snort-laugh when shethought about the smaller version of the Bronco she’d almost bought.

His head twisted in her direction for a moment, then went back toward the road. “I’m going to find us a safe place to lie low for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll call you to see if you’ve heard anything about the shooter. Yeah, get someone to see if there’s any footage from back there.”

She watched him wipe at his brow again. This time when he gripped the wheel, she noticed a red smear on his hand.

“You’re bleeding,” she shouted.

Jeter looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, but she pointed at his hand. “Look.”

“Hey, let me call you back.”

He set the cell phone on his thigh, grabbed the wheel with his right hand, then held out his left hand. “What the fuck?”

Tori wanted to lean over his body and inspect him, but they were still driving through traffic.

“Maybe the pavement that flew up after the...the bullet hit it came back and smashed into you.” Or there might’ve been another shot fired that neither of them had heard. Oh, god. The thought of him sitting there driving with a bullet wound, possibly bleeding out, made her lightheaded.

“Nah, I think the bullet grazed me before it hit the ground. I need to make another call. We need to go where nobody would think to look for us, farfallina. Do you trust me?” he asked.

They pulled up to a stoplight. With the glare from the lights outside illuminating the inside of her vehicle, she took a leap of faith and nodded. He reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Good girl.”

Chapter Seven

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head the moment Jeter pulled into the circular drive of the Waldorf Astoria.

“What the fuck are we doing here?”

He grinned over at her, flashing his pearly white teeth that set her nerves on edge. “This is where we’d booked to stay. In fact, this is where the wedding would have taken place tomorrow. Obviously, that’s not happening, but my stuff is in my room. We’re going to go up and get it, then we’ll go to somewhere safe.”

She waved her hand at his bloody face. “You can’t waltz into there with blood all over you. They’ll call the police.”

Jeter pulled the visor down and grimaced. “Do you have any wipes or something I can use to clean up really quick?”

Tori shook her head. “Are you for real? You might have a bullet in your head or need stitches. You need to let me at least look at it before one of the valets comes back here and freaks the fuck out.”

“Do you know you get a heavy New York accent when you’re upset? Is that where you’re from originally?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together. At least they weren’t sitting with the Bronco idling, and he appeared to listen to her. Her breath came out in a puff, making her realize she’d been holding it in until the moment he parked along the street a block down the road.

With decisive moves, Jeter moved the seat back, then turned to look at her. “Alright, take a look.”

When he shifted so she could see better, Tori unfastened her seatbelt and moved to lean over the console. Thankfully, she’dlocated a small pack of wet wipes in her glove compartment. After a few gentle swipes over the area, she was sure he wouldn’t need stitches. “I think the bullet must’ve grazed you. Does it hurt?”

He didn’t make a sound the entire time she’d cleaned the blood from the wound. Pulling back, she noticed his clenched teeth.

“No,” he gritted out.

“It’s still bleeding, but not as bad as it had been. I’m pretty sure I have some Aquaphor in my bag that should make it stop. It’ll make your hair greasy,” she warned.

---