Page 59 of Sin City Obsession

She gasped again, as if reminded she hadn’t taken a deep breath in minutes.

“What the hell did you just do?” Marzio asked, his tone incredulous and annoyed.

Alessa held tighter to her phone and ducked her head. “Sh-shut up.” She had no answer for him. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was abstractly aware of what she was supposed to be doing, and the fact that she could not do it. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she even suspected she was not having a rational reaction to the situation. But it made no difference.

So she sat, head bowed, phone clasped in her hand, and tried only to breathe through the pain in her chest and the tears dripping off her chin. Her only goal was to stay conscious until Rocco arrived.

His heart could not handle another crisis call so soon. It didn’t matter that his father hadn’t called to report a problem, let alone for help. It didn’t matter that no gunshots echoed in the air behind the devastating sound of Alessa’s broken, tearful voice. What mattered was that something had gone fucking wrong, again, andagain, Rocco had to race to the scene.

He had no idea what had happened. He’d sent her with a guard so that she should at least have had time to escape, but he feared she would have stubbornly planted herself besidethe man instead and fought back. If it was even some kind of attack. What if it was something else?

Em had told him about her request for in-house names. And how he’d finished compiling the list only minutes before her desperate call.

Rocco hated the idea, but he respected her insistence on investigating it. Objectively, he knew the point was valid. Too much so to be ignored, at least. And if it turned out one of his people had followed her and hurt her—was responsible for putting that sound in her voice—he would bleed them. Slowly. Their whole fucking bloodline would pay.

But first he needed to get to her.

He looked down at his phone, though he knew she hadn’t sent anything.Stay alive, beautiful.

“Huh.”

Em’s odd, mumbled declaration drew Rocco’s attention. “What?”

The SUV swung in a wide turn even as it slowed. Dirt from similarly sharp turns kicking up gravel immediately behind them assured the three vehicles following in his wake hadn’t been lost in traffic.

Em spoke as he threw the SUV into park, but already Rocco suspected his answer. “Looks quiet out here.”

He was right. It did. Only Marzio’s vehicle was in sight, off to the side, less notable from the road. But this was where Alessa had confirmed she was, so Rocco threw his door open as soon as they came to a stop and jumped out. “Looks can be deceiving.” He tucked his phone away and extracted his pistol.

Around him, men fell into position, armed with guns of varying caliber. He probably should have let several of his men step ahead, kept himself shielded in the center. It was the wiser move of a leader sparing some thought to his family’s future.

The only men he allowed to stand ahead of him were the ones quick enough to get there. Em didn’t surprise him—the man had learned to move like a ninja to anticipate him years ago—but another, Gio, did. Em punched in the security code and everyone raised their weapons as if expecting the enemy to burst through the door.

The door clicked open as it was supposed to, no drama, no mess.

Em and Gio moved forward before Rocco could overtake them. Rocco kept at their heels down the hall. It was barely wide enough for the men to stand two-wide, but at least they could see. And what they could see only made Rocco’s insides twist tighter.

The main interior space was fully lit, and it looked like Carla and Cousin were still bound in their chairs. Carla was even still gagged. Cousin was grumbling, his gag removed.

Marzio came into sight as soon as they cleared the corridor. Marzio spun toward them, gun half lifted, but he lowered it so quickly he may as well have dropped it when he registered who they were. By then, Cousin and Carla had gone silent as the dead.

Rocco didn’t care. He paid none of them more than passing attention, swept his gaze around the room, and spotted Alessa curled in on herself against the wall several feet further down.There was a knife on the floor, closer to Cousin’s feet than hers, and she clutched her phone tightly in her hand.

He tucked his gun away and shouldered past Marzio, striding straight to her. He had no fucking clue what had happened—Gwathney and his crony had to have been more challenging than Carla and her fuckup cousin—but he would figure it out. Just as soon as he ascertained whether or not she was injured. Physical health, then psychological, and sometime after that, he’d determine everything else.

“Alessa,” he called as he dropped to his knees in front of her, “beautiful, it’s me. I’m here.” He reached out as she lifted her head and his heart cracked at the tears he hadn’t wanted to see staining her cheeks. He pulled her into his chest, kissing her head as she seemed to melt into him.

She didn’t speak, but he distinctly heard a sob over the thud of her phone hitting the floor.

Rocco tightened his arms around her. “Shh, it’s all right, beautiful. I’ve got you.”

Chapter eighteen

Recovery

He was the world’sbiggest jackass.

If he had put any effort into remembering Carla’s fucking cousin’s name, Rocco would have figured out he couldn’t let Alessa be the one to dole out their punishment. At the very least, he could have forewarned her. He could have given her the opportunity to brace herself. But no, he’d forgotten the bastard’s name and been too distracted with other shit to bother trying to remedy that.

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