Page 65 of Sweet Retribution

She doesn’t respond. Waves of nausea roll through me. She’s either dead, or she took her wedding ring off. The tracking device was worked into the band, undetectable by any high-tech scanners Rossi may have.

If she took her ring off, it’s because she hates me. Hates me for bringing her here. For using her to flesh Rossi out. Using her for my own vendetta.

I can deal with her hate and distrust of me more than I can her death. Even though the night air is cool, sweat drips down my scalp and I brush it away. She’s out here wearing nothing but a skirt, sleeveless silk blouse, and small jacket. Fuck, she doesn’t even have shoes on her feet.

“Gia,” I cry, as tears blur my vision. I shine my flashlight, lifting up branches, searching behind every tree.

The tracker shows me moving away from her, so I circle back. I step on a twig snapping it, then pause. A noise. Not coming from me. I pause and listen again. A low moaning.

“Gia?” I hold my breath, so my breathing doesn’t muffle the sound of hers.

I close my eyes and listen. There it is again, to my left. I take a careful step and pause. The moaning is still faint. I shine my flashlight and see a pop of bright pink. It’s her toenail polish.

“Gia!” I fall to my knees by her side and shine the light over the fallen log and find her body. It’s bruised, scraped, and bloody. Her feet are destroyed.

I feel around for a pulse. It’s slow, but it’s there. She’s alive. I want to hold her in my arms and cradle her to my chest, but I don’t know if she’s fallen and hurt her neck. I’m scared to move her. Scared to touch her. Scared to not touch her.

“Baby,” I whisper, brushing her tangled hair out of her face. “Baby, talk to me. Are you hurt?” It’s a stupid fucking question.

“Stone?” She doesn’t open her eyes, but a trail of tears spills from them. She’s curled on her side, her hands hugged to her cheek. “Found...me.”

“I did, baby. Did you fall? Can you get up?” I stroke her hair and run my hands down her back, her ribs, feeling for any obvious swelling or pools of blood. I’m no doctor. I don’t know what the hell to look for.

“Tired.”

“I don’t want to move you if you have an injury.”

“My feet,” she says, still not moving.

I glance down at them again. Dirty and caked with blood, but they’re not swollen or bent out of shape. Since I have service at the top of this knoll, I text my men telling them I’ve found her and that I’m on my way back. I trust my instincts that she doesn’t have a neck injury and scoop her up in my arms.

“I’ve got you, Gia. Don’t quit on my now, okay?” I brush a kiss across her temple and carry her through the woods, hoping I don’t get lost.

My legs are about to give out when I see a figure in the distance. With my hands full of Gia, I’m not able to use my flashlight, or my gun. Even though Rossi and his man are dead, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have others out here.

“Stone.”

Sighing in relief, I continue toward Tio. I don’t want to hand her off, but I’m no good to her if I can’t stay up on my two feet. My calf burns from the gunshot wound. It isn’t anything compared to Marco’s, who hopefully hasn’t bled to death waiting for me to find Gia.

I take out my phone using it as a compass and lead us out of the woods. Lucca is waiting by the car and rushes over to Tio, taking Gia from her. He sets her in the backseat next to Marco, and I slide in next to her.

I’m never letting her out of my sight again.

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