Page 94 of Her Guardian
“Thank you,” he mutters, reaching for his phone. He studies it for a moment, then looks at me. “Dante was able to get more gas sensors. Should be able to cover all the residences now. Fucking hate that I’m not out there with them.”
“Before you got hurt, you were happy to be on the sidelines because it meant more time with me,” I say, giving him a playful nudge before I carry the medical supplies back to the bathroom.
“Yeah, but now I’m pissed off,” he growls. “Really pissed off. I’ve known some of the guys those fuckers killed for years. Theywere good men. And I feel responsible, because I was one of the people leading them to their death.”
“You had no way of knowing,” I sigh as I return to him. “Nobody did. They even wore the exact same shoes, so that none of the footprints would draw attention. They fooled the police, the Mafia in multiple cities, and the media. There wasn’t even any talk about multiple killers in the true crime circles until the first murder in Las Vegas. Still, nobody realized it was a freaking team.”
“Your friend Cadence seems to think Solitude is a pretty big deal. I knew about the vigilante shit they’ve done, but that was all hacking and shit,” he says. “Cadence worked up a profile for us and got into a couple of their servers, but couldn’t get past the firewall or whatever.”
“They are a big deal,” I admit, looking down. “There have been lots of rumors about them working with the Russian government over the years, and they’ve stolen billions in cryptocurrency. I assume that’s how they’re financing this. But I don’t think they’re vigilantes anymore. Not if they’re working with the Bratva.”
“They’re fucked, regardless. As soon as we locate them, we’ll hunt those assholes down, even if that means another trip to Russia,” he says.
“Things are going to get really bad, aren’t they?” I ask apprehensively. “Lea mentioned a war.”
“It’ll be a war, that’s for damn sure,” he answers, taking a hit from his vape and exhaling a watermelon cloud. “We don’t have enough men to take on theentireBratva, but Massimo has been making calls. He’s trying to get some of the old Mafia familiesleft in the cities they previously hit to send men to Las Vegas. You don’t build an army like that unless you think you’ll need them.”
“I can’t ask you not to go, even though I wish I could,” I sigh, looking down. “But when that time comes, please be careful. Don’t take any risks you don’t have to. You’ve brought something incredible to my life, and I can’t lose it… can’t lose you.”
“You’re stuck with me, little girl,” he growls, tilting my head until I’m looking into his emerald-gold gaze. “There was a time when I didn’t give a fuck if I came back. All I cared about was doing the most damage possible. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, leaning against him until he pulls me into his arms.
This is the only place I want to be right now.
And when the time finally comes for Big Mafia Boyd to go to war, I’ll still be here. Waiting. Hoping. Praying to any deity who is listening that he comes back to me.
A few days later, Boyd is back on his feet, but I still prefer him on the couch.
“Boyd, seriously,” I groan, my heart clenching as I watch him painfully drag himself around the condo. “You don’t have to get up and do so much just because the doctor said you’re able to walk. You still need to heal.”
“I’m fine,” he argues. “More than fine.”
“No, you’re not,” I sigh. “If you’re not careful you’re going to rip one of your stitches and then you’ll have to start all over.”
“Nah,” he grunts. “I’ll make it. Trust me, I’ve been hurt before. I heal faster than most people do.”
“Or you just pretend it doesn’t hurt, even when it does,” I mutter.
“You worry too much,” he says, walking up and putting his hands on my hips. “I’m getting better. In fact, I think I’m well enough to drag you into the bedroom.”
“Boyd, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I protest, but his lips are already on my neck, sizzling against my skin as he kisses his way to my ear.
“It’s been too long,” he rasps. “I need what is mine. I needyou.”
“You have me,” I whisper, my body responding to him, even though I’m still worried. “I’m not going anywhere. Wait until you’re healed.”
“Oh, you’re going somewhere alright,” he grins, pulling me toward the bedroom. “You’re going to my bed where you belong.”
I try to fight it, but as soon as his lips find mine and he starts pulling at my clothes, my willpower falters. I kiss him back. I tug his t-shirt over his head and run my fingers along his mountainous physique.
Boyd pushes me toward the bed, and I fall back against the mattress. He lowers himself carefully, his weight shifting as he leans over me. His movements are slower than usual, more deliberate, and I can tell he’s trying not to lose control like he normally does. He’s being careful.
I try to relax as his lips brush against mine again. The urgency that always simmers between us has softened into something deeper. I feel it in the way his hand moves along my waist, the way his fingers trail across my skin as he finishes undressing me, like he’s memorizing every curve all over again because of how long it’s been since we were together like this.
“I missed this,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Missed you, Sarah.”
“I’ve been here the entire time,” I whisper, undoing his pants and pushing them down. Carefully, so that I don’t hurt him. My lips spread into a grin, and I tease him by dragging my fingers along his cock. “You were the one sleeping on the couch, Big Boyd.”
