Page 96 of Choices

My heart breaks for them, and their kids, but all I can do is drive back to the scene, make sure Rico's men get in safely, and keep the actual authorities none-the-wiser.

Chapter forty-four

Rico

Iwaited for what seemed an eternity for Johnson to bring me Hannah. It had only been 45 minutes since Vitale had called me, how had she escaped? When he said it was bad, what was bad? Was she hurt? I swear I would kill that mother fucker. I had already convened Gabriel, Jorge, and Matteo to figure out how we were going to attack Vitale’s compound while I was distracting him with “negotiations”. But I knew all too well there would be no negotiations. If I went alone, unarmed, I was going to my death.

Johnson said it was bad, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. The love of my life, barefoot, completely covered in blood. The only part of her face not covered were her eyes, which were wide and bright in shock. Her sweatshirt was drenched in deep crimson, now slowly drying a muddy black as the blood dried. Now I understood why Johnson said she shouldn’t be seen in public.

How much blood was it? Was it hers? What the hell had happened?!

“Ay dios mio,” Maria gasps when she sees Hannah.

Seeing her, though, I went into crisis-solving mode. I couldn't kill the Vitale fucker, assuming this is his blood all over my woman, but I could take care of her. I had to get that fucker's blood off of her so I could check her for any wounds. I needed to get her to come back to me.

Diego runs ahead of us, opening the east wing's master bedroom door, and then the bathroom.

He looks pale, and his hands shake slightly, but I knew I could rely on him. I knew Hannah could.

"Text them."

He nods before shutting the bathroom door. I sit her down and ensure she can stand before I turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm up.

While it does, I gently strip Hannah of her clothes, and gently pull her panties down, helping her step out of them.

The shower stall is large and stone, with a built-in stone bench. I gently lead Hannah under the water and gently push her hips down until she's sitting on the bench.

“It’s in my hair…” she whispers, looking up at me with the eyes of a child.

“Yes, it is, mi amor, but I’ll take care of it.” I say reassuringly. I take the handheld part of the shower head and run it through her hair with my fingers. I let the warm water wash the blood out of her hair, and off her body, trying to keep the water out of her face. I lather up some shampoo and wash her hair myself twice. I bathe her body gently until I'm convinced there's no more remnants of blood on her body.

With Vitale's blood finally off of her body, I can tell there are no wounds that would account for the blood - just a split lip (likely from when she was on the phone with me) and some bruising around her throat.

I fight back the nausea at the reddening finger prints around her neck and the fear that he may hurt her in other ways.

I wrap her in an oversized towel before carrying her to my bed. I cover her with a blanket before checking my phone.

Johnson: Vitale's men fled. Your men secured the crime scene before lighting it on fire. But Rico...his pants were down when they found the body.

Fear grips my heart painfully. It feels like a physical blow to my chest with a hammer. A sob wracks my chest, but only one. I had failed her. I had blown into her perfectly suburban life and destroyed it. She had been kidnapped, raped and had murdered a man because I was selfish enough to want her. I saw the love and loyalty and sacrifice she was made out of and needed it to be mine, like a spoiled child with a pretty toy. And look what it had costed? Being with me took this beautiful, innocent woman and exposed her to all of the worst parts of this world. And it was all my fault. No one else’s.

I swallow thickly.

“Rico…” she whispers, turning towards me. I sniff before wiping my eyes, hoping she won’t see the tears forming in them. She looks me in the eyes briefly, before snuggling into my chest.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and all of my composure breaks free. I sob now, freely, holding her as tightly to me as I could.

She looks up at me, confused and concerned.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. All of this had happened to her, and she was worried about me. Damn if this woman wasn’t making me fall even more in love with her.

I shake my head. “What do you mean thank you?”

“Thank you for taking care of me. For bathing me, for making me feel safe.” Her voice is thin and small, but her eyes are more focused now and I hope she's coming out of shock.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Her eyes cloud, and her face falls. “Please,” I beg, bringing my hand to the side of her face. “It’simportant.” I need to know what happened to her. I need to know how badly she was hurt and what I could do to fix it.

I know I owe the boys an update, but I need to know what to text them.

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