Chapter 27

Vance

Her eyes drop to her husband's body. If she really wanted to, she could blame me for all this and live her life in peace. I'd let her. Even though her family's soldiers would come after me, I'd sacrifice myself so she could return to her normal life if that's what she wants.

She'd probably be married off to the next schmuck her family elects to hand her off to, but this is a decision she has to make. She can choose the life she's always known, or she can choose to come with me.

It's a big ask. We'll spend our life hiding from both sides if she takes a chance on me. I can't give her the expensive cars or luxury housing she's accustomed to, either. If I were her, I'd be inclined to blame it all on me.

"Vance," she says as she sits up.

I seek the least bit of intel on what direction she's leaning, but her voice is level, her expression unreadable.

I step into her and pull her to her feet. "Tell me."

I need her to tell me because I can't wait a moment longer for her answer. My fate rests in her soft hands. Will I run from her or with her?

"Running away with you is suicide," she whispers.

My shoulders drop.

"So I guess I'm suicidal." Her dark eyes round as the corners of her lips draw upward.

I guess we both are. And there's no one else I'd rather die beside.

I lean into her and kiss her. "I'll make you come every day until then."

She licks her lips as she pulls away from me. "Hopefully it doesn't hurt like that every time."

I reach behind my back, draw my second pistol, and offer it to her. She smiles and takes the gun, then checks to see if it's loaded with such sexy effortlessness, like she was born with a gun in her hand. Considering this family, she may have been.

Her dark eyes flash with a fire I haven't seen before. "Well, let's get this shit show on the road."

* * *

She grabbed her bag on the way out. She hadn't even unpacked anything before he tried to get beneath her dress. But in his defense, I'm not sure I would have been able to wait half as long as he did. I probably would have thrown her ass against that marble wall and fucked her in front of her entire family at the ceremony. Would have spread her thighs and made her bleed in front of her own blood.

Either way, it made it much easier to abduct her from her guarded ivory tower.

We sit in the car, and excitement courses through both of us. Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. Then she throws back her head and laughs.

"What the hell are we doing!" she screams.

It's not a question. We're very much aware of what we're doing. We're making a life-altering decision to be together, which could end up with one or both of us dead.

"Being incredibly stupid," I tell her as I throw the car in reverse.

She shrugs. "Or smart."

We look at each other. We know what it is. But having her by my side will be worth all the stupidity. All the running.

She sobers and brushes back her dark hair. "Well, where are we going?"

"I have a ‘safe house' of sorts." I put the car in drive and head east.

"A safe house? Why?"

"I've spent most of the last two decades guarding others from really shitty people. I've made plenty of enemies over the years."

Her eyes narrow. "I don't even have a safe house."

I chuckle. "Well that's stupid."

It's not like a safe house in an action movie. It's a house just outside the state, and its paper trail doesn't lead back to me. I've had to use it twice. Once when I stayed with a stripper I was trying to protect from her enraged pimp, and another time when I had to keep a witness safe until their court date. Not once have I used it to protect myself.

I normally welcome people to come at me, but I won't risk others I'm tasked with defending. If I had known how I'd feel about Isabella, I might have whisked her away to my safe house to keep her from being forced into marriage in the first place, but I didn't realize just how strong my feelings were until they took her from me.

Now I plan to only be away from her if there's no more life in my body. I will die before I let them take her away again.

I reach over and caress the back of her neck. "I'm glad you came with me."

"I didn't really have a choice. I wasn't going to sick my father's dogs on you or put the blame on you when I'm just as guilty for making you fall in love with me." A smirk tugs at her lips.

I scoff. "I-I don't..." My voice trails off.

I want to tell her she didn't make me fall in love with her. I've never spoken those words to a woman so candidly, and I don't know if I can say them. It's hard enough to let myself feel that way. But I can't deny the truth of her accusation. After all, you don't risk your life like this for someone you don't love.