12. Ryan

Chapter 12

The cursor blinks back at me from the screen, a relentless reminder of my stalled progress. I run a hand through my hair, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. My home office is quiet, too quiet. Normally, the solitude helps me focus, but today, it's a heavy silence that's hard to bear.

Michela. I can't stop thinking about her. I'm already missing her like crazy and she's only been gone a few hours.

Her brother's security picked her up earlier this morning to take her to meet with him at Dante's. Lorenzo wanted to talk about us, about what he discovered and what he's planning. It's a conversation that needs to happen, but knowing that doesn't make the waiting any easier.

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog. There's work to be done. Reports to review, emails to answer. I turn back to my laptop, forcing myself to scan through the latest emails. The words blur together, my concentration splintering with each passing second. I need to get this shit done so I can concentrate on helping Michela move a few things over to the house we're going to be staying in on Dante's compound. I hate the thought of leaving my home, my sanctuary for an unknown amount of time, but I'll do whatever it takes to make sure my girl stays safe.

My phone sits beside the keyboard, silent and still. No messages, no calls. I've checked it at least ten times in the last hour, hoping for some sign that everything is okay. That she's okay. I tap my fingers on the desk, waiting impatiently.

I push my chair back and stand, pacing the length of the room, a habit I fall into whenever I'm restless.

Moving to the window, I look out at my vast, green backyard, which usually soothes me.

I close my eyes, picturing her. The curve of her smile, the spark in her eyes when she laughs, the way her hand fits perfectly in mine. My chest tightens with longing. I want to be there with her, to offer whatever comfort I can, to face this together.

The minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity. I force myself to sit back down, to focus. I open an email, reread the question posed by a client, and start typing a response. It's mechanical, automatic, devoid of the thought I usually put into my work.

Halfway through my reply, I stop. My fingers hover over the keys, and then I backspace, deleting the entire message. I can't do this right now. I need to know that Michela is alright, that we're alright.

My phone buzzes suddenly, and my heart leaps. I grab it, my hands almost trembling. It's a message from Michela.

Kitten

I just finished with Lorenzo. Coming back now. Can't wait to see you.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, relief washing over me in waves. He didn't try to pull something and take her away. She's coming back.

I type a quick reply, my fingers flying over the screen.

Me

Hurry up. I miss you like crazy.

I set the phone down and glance around the office. Knowing she's on her way changes everything. The silence is no longer oppressive; it's a prelude to her return. I start tidying up, not that there's much to do, but it keeps my hands busy and my mind focused.

I'm finishing up the last of my reports, the final numbers lining up neatly on the screen, when my phone buzzes on the table. I glance at the caller ID and see Lorenzo's name. My heart drops as I instantly know something isn't right. I pick up the phone, but before I can even say hello, his frantic voice bursts through the speaker.

"Ryan, they've made a move on Michela."

"What?" I ask, my heart dropping to my toes.

"The Grimaldis. They ran her car off the road. I can't reach her bodyguards. I have a position on the car, and I'm on my way."

My stomach clenches. I'm already out of my seat, grabbing my keys. "Text me the coordinates. I'm on my way."

The text from him comes through before I finish speaking.

"I'm on my way," I assure him, my voice steady even as fear grips me.

I rush out the door, sprinting to my car. The keys jingle in my hand, and I fumble for a moment before I can find the button to press that opens my door. I barely take a breath before the engine roars to life beneath my hands. One word echoes through my mind on a constant loop—Michela. She has to be okay. She has to. I punch the coordinates into the GPS as I tear out of the driveway.

I drive down the deserted back roads, and every second feels like an eternity. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as I race toward my girl.

"She was only three miles from your house," Lorenzo's voice crackles through the car's speakers, and I realize I never hung up the phone. "Her car veered off near the old bridge."

Images of Michela, scared and hurt, flash through my mind. I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. She has to be okay. She has to. I can't fucking survive without her.

I take the winding roads way too fucking fast. Finally, the GPS announces that I'm close. I slow down, scanning the area until I spot skid marks leading off the road, leading down a sharp embankment.

I see a black sports car pull up to the spot ahead of me. As I'm pulling over, Lorenzo and several huge men dressed in black hop out of the other car. I barely put the car in park before I hop out and run to the edge of the road, looking down at the wreckage. The black limousine is there, crumpled against a tree.

"Motherfucker," Lorenzo roars as we slip and slide down the embankment, our feet slipping on the loose dirt. Driven by sheer adrenaline, I reach the car first. "Michela!" I shout, my pulse hammering in my ears as I pull the back door open. She's lying against the far door, and I quickly take inventory of her, not finding any obvious injuries.

Her eyes flutter open, dazed but conscious. "Ryan?" When she lifts her head, I see a bruise next to her temple.

"Are you seriously hurt?" I ask as I lean into the car.

"Don't lift her until we make sure she doesn't have any internal injuries," Lorenzo calls behind me.

"I didn't hit that hard," Michela assures me. "My purse flew up and hit me in the head, but the seatbelt kept me from getting injured."

"Thank God." I'm able to take a deep breath for the first time since Lorenzo called. "I'm here. It's going to be okay."

I unbuckle her seatbelt and lift her against my body, relaxing slightly when I feel her strong heartbeat against my chest. She snuggles into my hold. "They came out of nowhere."

"I know, I know," I say, my voice soothing as I run my hands over her sweet body. "We need to get you out of here."

Lorenzo pushes his way past his two men, and I realize I've never seen my friend this frantic. "Are you okay?" He runs his finger over the dark purple bruise at her left temple, and I can see the rage filling his eyes.

"I'm scared silly, but I'm not badly hurt." Michela leans her head against my shoulder. "How are the driver and Andrew?"

My softhearted little kitten is worried about the driver and the bodyguard in the front seat.

"We're checking on them now." Lorenzo smiles at her. "It's nothing for you to worry about."

"She needs medical attention." I hold her closer and push my way back up the embankment. The adrenaline coursing through me makes the climb easier.

Once we reach the road, I gently help her into my car as Lorenzo stands behind us, explaining, "There's a helicopter coming for you. They'll meet you at the empty field south of the four-way stop and take you straight to the hospital in Houston. I've already arranged for heightened security."

"I don't need the hospital," Michela protests, and we both ignore her. I won't fully relax until a medical professional tells me she isn't injured.

I rush around the car and hop in. "I'm going to follow behind you once we get things under control here," Lorenzo tells me. When we started back up the hill, Lorenzo's men were working on rescuing the driver and the bodyguard in the front seat.

From the looks of the twisted metal and broken glass, I'm betting they're in much worse shape, but I can't worry about them right now. My full focus is on making sure my little kitten is okay. Then I'll figure out how I'm going to make sure nothing like this happens in the future.

As I start driving, my focus is solely on getting Michela to safety. She leans back in her seat, exhausted but holding on.

"You're going to be alright," I promise her, my voice firm and steady. "I've got you."

She tries to smile, but it turns into a grimace of pain. "I knew you would come."

"Always," I say, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently. "I'll always come for you. I love you more than anything."

My focus narrows to the road ahead. We crest a hill and I see the helicopter landing ahead. The paramedic comes over to the car and helps me get Michela out. He doesn't even stop me from hopping in with her. As he hooks her up to monitors and checks her vitals, I realize how close the call was today.

There's no way I'm going to let something like this happen again. By the time we land in Houston, I've already got a game plan in mind. Lorenzo might not like it, but I don't really give a fuck about preserving his feelings.

No matter what happens, I know one thing for certain: I won't let anyone hurt her. Not now, not ever. Her brother isn't used to letting someone else have control, but he'll have to learn to deal with these new circumstances. I'll fight him every step of the way if I have to.