Page 20 of Till Death Do Us Part

Just like my father taught me.

Though it’s the first time I’ve ever done it on a real person, and it’s anticlimactic if I’m being honest.

He winces in pain, yanking his hand away from me and stumbling backwards. A deep scowl spreads across his face, wide eyes focused on me while he fumbles with his leather jacket.

The black shirt he’s wearing dampens as blood seeps through the material. I spot the gun he’s reaching for, my eyes drawing on the black object. Apparently, he isn’t as concerned about others hearing the commotion.

The moment his hand lands on the black metal, my spine straightens, and I roll my shoulders back. His hands tremble as he lifts the weapon, the blood loss already taking its toll on his body. It’ll be a matter of minutes before he passes out, unable to call for help. At least if I die at his hands, I know I’m taking him out with me.

His finger moves against the trigger, one second, then two, but before he can send a bullet into me, his head snaps backwards. He falls to the ground with a loud thump, his eyes open and lifeless as I focus on the hole in the centre of his head, blood staining the alley around him.

CHAPTER SIX

“Ihadithandled.”

Leonardo snorts lightly when I snap at him, his eyes tracing over me. His shoulders deflate slightly when he sees me unharmed, the change in his posture is minimal but my eyes follow the movement. He turns to face the dead man on the ground and then nudges the body with the toe of his black leather boots.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, his eyes fixating on where my knife remains in the dead guy’s stomach. He reaches down, his hand folding over the hilt before he pulls it out. There’s a crimson coating on the blade, but he does not seem to care as he swipes it over the black material of his trousers before holding it out to me. “So, I see. How did you?”

“What?”

“How did you have it handled? A man of his size, sneaking up on a woman of yours,” he ponders, muttering mostly to himself as he eyes the body. His head tilts, his thumb swiping over his full bottom lip.

“He underestimated me. Most men do,” I tell him, snatching my knife back. The moment my hand wraps around the handle, my shoulders sag in relief. It’s a little thing, but somebody else handling my weapons makes me itchy.

“I’ll try to remember not to make that mistake,” he murmurs, watching as I slip the knife back under my sweater and bend to pick up my shopping bags.

He shakes his head, letting out a sigh as I walk away. His long legs have him catching up to me easily, falling into step as he grabs the bags from my hands, carrying them effortlessly in one of his. “We need to speak to Antonio, then we can take your shopping home.”

That makes sense, I suppose; though, all I want to do right now is go back to the mansion and soak in the large claw tub. Dealing with my husband is the last thing on my priority list.

“It will only take a short time, Princess,” he tells me when we reach his car. He pulls the door open, pressing a hand against my back to guide me into the seat. My eyes widen, locking on his.

“Can you read my mind?”

“No.” A deep chuckle follows his answer, the door closing and swallowing the sound as he walks around the vehicle. He slides into the seat, as graceful as a cat despite his large body. Folding his fingers around the wheel, he pulls away, before speaking again. “Your body language changed when I mentioned Antonio.”

“I didn’t realise you were a body language expert,” I mumble, wrinkling my nose as I turn my gaze to the window. He doesn’t respond, just fiddles with the radio until “Paint It Black” by The Rolling Stones filters through the speakers. The streets of New York fly past us as we barrel down the road.

In less than twenty minutes, we’re rolling to a stop outside of a casino, and before I can unclip my belt, my door swings open as Leonardo leans over the metal frame.

He reaches into the car, just as I move for my belt. Our hands brush, sending a spark of electricity searing through me as I press the clip. His fingers thread through mine, pulling me from my seat the moment I’m unbuckled. Stumbling over my feet, I grip his arm with my free hand, ignoring the way my fingers itch to travel over his skin at the contact.

“Careful, Princess,” he murmurs, releasing my hand and moving his to my lower back when I straighten. His thumb traces over my skin, pushing my sweater up as he runs it along the waistband of my jeans. Goosebumps follow his caress and I have to pull in a steadying breath—there is something about the way he’s always touching me, without a care in the world, that sends butterflies soaring in my stomach.

We make our way inside and take a lift to the casino floor. Leonardo’s palm remains firm on my back the whole time, his thumb continuously running over my flesh. A tremor racks my body when the pad slips beneath the denim, tracing the hem of my underwear. I steal a glance at him, my breath hitching as my eyes lock on his face.

The stubble on his jaw is longer today, and his hair is mussed up as though he’d rolled out of bed before coming back for me. His lips twitch, his eyes darting to mine, but I snap my gaze forwards and focus on the room instead of the man at my side.

My eyes take a moment to adjust to the flickering neon lights coming from the machines lining the walls. Men and women dressed to the nines stroll around the place, choosing between card tables and slot machines.

A hint of tobacco permeates the air, laced with something bitter that tickles my nose, though I can’t place the lingering scent. Incessant chatter and excitable cheers echo through the space as the patrons win.

Leonardo pays them no mind, keeping his head high and his steps steady. Following his lead, I roll my shoulders back, and keep my gaze forwards, ignoring the stares as we pass.

We stop at a door at the back of the room, tucked away from the chaos. Leonardo knocks once but doesn’t wait for a response before pushing the door open and nudging me into the room.

Antonio sits at a wooden desk in the centre, his feet resting on the edge of the table, crossed at the ankles. His suit jacket is splayed open and his tie is loosened, hanging lax down his chest.

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