Chapter 4 - He Put Me in His Car Before the Second Threat ArrivedI stared at the photograph until the letters blurred.
Then I called Mateo.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“Elena?”
“I got a message.”
His voice changed instantly.
“What message?”
I read it.
Silence.
“Don’t leave the apartment.”
“I’m supposed to work in ninety minutes.”
“You’re not going.”
“You don’t get to decide—”
“Not today.”
I almost argued.
Then I looked again at the photograph.
Someone had been watching me.
At work.
During daylight.
The argument died.
Mateo returned eleven minutes later.
Luca came with him.
So did a woman I had never seen before.
She was perhaps forty, with dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail and the posture of someone who noticed every exit in every room.
“This is Sofia Bellini,” Mateo said. “She handles security.”
Sofia held out her hand.
“Elena.”
I shook it.
“You’re the one who searched my apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find anything else?”
“Two devices.”
My stomach twisted.
“Two?”
“One audio. One camera.”
I went cold.
“Camera?”
Mateo’s jaw flexed.
Sofia continued quickly.
“It was pointed toward the front entrance, not the living area.”
That helped.
Barely.
Mateo held out his hand.
“Phone.”
I gave it to him.
He examined the message.
“Rossi’s escalating.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows I care whether you get hurt.”
The words hung between us.
I looked up.
“You care?”
Mateo’s expression closed.
“I’m responsible.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“Elena.”
“No. You said he knows you care.”
Sofia suddenly became very interested in the window.
Luca looked toward the ceiling.
Mateo took my arm gently.
“We’re leaving.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere secure.”
“I’m not disappearing.”
“You’re not disappearing. You’re relocating temporarily.”
“That’s disappearing with better vocabulary.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face hardened.
“Where?”
He ended the call.
“We leave now.”
“What happened?”
“The man who sent the message is downstairs.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“He’s sitting in a car across the street.”
Mateo drew a gun from beneath his jacket.
It was the first time I had seen him openly armed.
Everything suddenly became real.
“Stay between Luca and me.”
We moved.
Fast.
Down the back staircase.
Through the basement.
Into an underground garage I had not known existed.
A black SUV waited.
Mateo opened the rear door.
“Inside.”
I climbed in.
The instant the door closed, a gunshot cracked somewhere above us.
Then another.
I ducked.
Mateo climbed in beside me.
“Drive.”
The SUV accelerated.
My hands were shaking.
Mateo noticed.
He reached for me.
Stopped.
Then asked, “Can I?”
It took me a second to understand.
He was asking permission to touch me.
I nodded.
His hand closed around mine.
Warm.
Steady.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Barely.”
“I’m a trauma nurse. I know how breathing works.”
“Then demonstrate.”
I laughed once.
A terrible, shaky sound.
But I breathed.
We drove for forty minutes.
Eventually the city thinned.
Buildings gave way to trees.
The SUV turned through iron gates onto a private estate.
A mansion stood beyond them.
Not a flashy mansion.
An old one.
Stone.
Dark roof.
Tall windows.
Security everywhere.
“Where are we?”
“My house.”
“You have a house?”
Mateo looked amused.
“You thought apartment 4B was my primary residence?”
“I thought criminals liked penthouses.”
Luca coughed to hide a laugh.
Mateo gave him a look.
Inside, the house was unexpectedly warm.
Books.
Wood.
Family photographs.
A piano.
It did not look like the home of a monster.
That bothered me.
Monsters were easier when their homes looked monstrous.
A gray-haired woman appeared from the hallway.
She saw Mateo and immediately slapped him.
Hard.
I stared.
“Three days,” she snapped in Italian-accented English. “Three days you ignore my calls.”
Mateo rubbed his cheek.
“Hello, Mama.”
His mother.
She noticed me.
Her entire expression changed.
“Who is this?”
“Elena Cruz.”
The woman looked from me to Mateo.
Then to our still-joined hands.
I immediately released him.
Her eyebrows climbed.
Mateo sighed.
“Mama.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
She smiled at me.
“I’m Isabella.”
“Elena.”
“You are hungry?”
“I’m fine.”
“Nonsense. Mateo only brings people here when somebody wants to kill them. Stress makes everyone hungry.”
I stared at Mateo.
He closed his eyes.
“Mama.”
“What? She deserves honesty.”
I liked Isabella immediately.
That was dangerous too.
Over dinner, I learned pieces of Mateo’s life he clearly had not planned to share.
His father had died when Mateo was twenty-four.
His younger brother, Gabriel, lived in Rome.
His mother hated guns at the table.
Mateo loved espresso but hated wine.
He had studied economics.
He had once wanted to become an architect.
That surprised me most.
“What happened?”
He looked across the table.
“My father died.”
Three words.
A whole life redirected.
After dinner, Mateo showed me a guest room.
“You’ll stay here.”
“For how long?”
“Until I solve this.”
“Days?”
“I hope.”
“Weeks?”
His silence worried me.
“I have a job.”
“I spoke with your hospital.”
My mouth dropped open.
“You what?”
“I arranged emergency leave.”
“You called my employer?”
“Sofia did.”
“Mateo!”
“You’re being targeted.”
“You cannot rearrange my life every time danger appears.”
“I can when the danger is mine.”
“That is not how normal people solve problems.”
“I’m aware.”
I paced.
“You keep making decisions for me.”
“Because every time I give you options, you choose the one most likely to get you killed.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You opened my door while I was bleeding.”
“You needed medical care.”
“You confronted armed men.”
“They were outside my apartment.”
“You argued with me while someone was surveilling you.”
“You’re very irritating.”
He stepped closer.
“So are you.”
We were inches apart.
My anger changed shape.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
Again.
This time he did not look away quickly.
Neither did I.
“This is a terrible idea,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“You’re dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t even like you.”
“That one’s becoming less convincing.”
I should have slapped him.
Instead, I kissed him.
Or maybe he kissed me.
Later, I would never be sure who moved first.
I only knew his hand came to my jaw and stopped there, waiting.
I leaned closer.
That was permission.
Then his mouth met mine.
The kiss was nothing like I expected.
Not rough.
Not possessive.
Controlled.
Almost careful.
Which somehow made it more dangerous.
I pulled away first.
We stared at each other.
“That cannot happen again.”
Mateo’s breathing was uneven.
“Agreed.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Neither of us moved.
Then I kissed him again.
This time, his restraint broke.
His hand slid around my waist.
He pulled me against him.
Heat exploded through me.
For perhaps twenty seconds, I forgot guns.
Rossi.
Threats.
Everything.
Then a window shattered downstairs.
Mateo threw me to the floor.
His body covered mine.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Men shouted.
Alarms screamed.
Mateo drew his weapon.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I’m not staying alone in a room while people shoot at the house.”
He grabbed my shoulders.
“Listen to me. There is a reinforced bathroom through that door. Lock yourself inside.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll handle it.”
“You were shot four days ago!”
His expression softened for half a second.
Then the mafia boss returned.
“Elena.”
He pressed his forehead briefly to mine.
“If they get inside, do not come looking for me.”
“Mateo—”
“Promise.”
Another burst of gunfire sounded downstairs.
I swallowed.
“I promise.”
He ran.
I locked myself in the reinforced bathroom.
For twelve minutes, I listened to gunfire.
Then silence.
Then footsteps.
A knock.
“Elena.”
Mateo.
I opened the door.
Blood covered his shirt.
Again.
My heart stopped.
“You’re hurt.”
“Not mine.”
Behind him, Luca appeared.
“Boss.”
Mateo turned.
Luca’s expression was grim.
“We caught one.”
“Who?”
“He says Rossi didn’t order the attack.”
Mateo went still.
“Then who did?”
Luca looked at me.
That was when I knew the answer had something to do with me.
“He says the contract wasn’t on you.”
Mateo’s face changed.
May you like
Luca finished.
“It was on Elena.”
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