Page 5 of The Mob Boss's Bride
"What's happening?" she asks, barely audible. "Those men—I saw—there was blood?—"
"Shh." I press my lips to her temple, a instinctive comfort. "Don't talk about what you saw. Never talk about it."
Her breathing hitches. She understands the implications.
I check my phone. A text from Vex: "Clear. South exit. Car waiting."
"We need to move," I tell her. "Stay close to me."
"No, I—I can't—" She tries to pull away, but my arm is iron around her waist.
"Fern, listen to me." I turn her to face me, gripping her shoulders. Rain streams down her face, her eyelashes spiky with moisture. She looks terrified and beautiful and breakable. "You were never here. You didn't see anything. But others saw you. Do you understand what that means?"
She shakes her head, but her eyes say she does.
"If they think you're a witness, they'll silence you." My fingers tighten on her arms. "I can't let that happen."
"I'll go to the police?—"
"The police were just part of this mess. You think they'll protect you? From Silva's people? From whoever set up this ambush?"
Her face crumples. "What am I supposed to do?"
I wipe a raindrop—or maybe a tear—from her cheek with my thumb. "Come with me. Now."
She hesitates, looking toward the street, weighing her options. There are none, but I let her come to that conclusion herself.
"Okay," she whispers finally.
I keep her tucked against my side as we move through the shadows toward the waiting car. Vex sees us coming and his eyes widen slightly at the sight of Fern, but he knows better than to question me. He slides into the driver's seat while I usher Fern into the back, following her in.
She huddles against the door, as far from me as possible. Her clothes are soaked, her body shivering with cold and fear. I shrug out of my jacket and reach for her.
"Don't touch me," she says, the words surprisingly steady despite her trembling.
"You're freezing."
"I'm fine."
I drape the jacket over her anyway. She flinches but doesn't push it away.
"Where are you taking me?" she asks as the car pulls away, melting into the rainy night.
"Home."
"Your home or mine?"
"Mine. You can't go back to yours. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while."
Her head whips toward me. "What? No. I have a business—a life?—"
"A life you want to keep." The words come out harder than I intended. "Fern, listen to me. You're in danger. What you saw tonight?—"
"I didn't see anything!" Her voice rises with panic. "I was just delivering pastries to the hotel! I was walking back to my car!"
"But Silva's men saw you. They'll assume you're a witness."
She presses her hands to her face. "This can't be happening."
