whether I lived or died? He shouldn’t have. In fact, he should have been praying that I’d get struck by a bullet so this whole marriage contract would be null and void.
After what felt like an eternity, we reached the black town car that was still parked in the driveway. The driver was using his open door as cover, gun raised, clearly preparing for an attack. The fact that the shooters clearly hadn’t come through the front door—otherwise this car would have been riddled with bullets and the driver likely left for dead—disturbed me.
From what direction had they gained entrance? There was dense forest at the back of the property. Had they somehow managed to hide in there undetected? There was also that weak spot in the security fence near the West Wing entrance. But no one outside of our household and security team would have known about it.
Nico whipped open the back door without taking his eyes off the house. “Get in!”
“Wait, I have to make sure my father isn’t inside,” I yelled frantically. “What if he came back and got trapped in there? I can’t just leave him.”
“Your father charged me with keeping you safe,” he barked. “He wouldn’t want you to go looking for him. Get in the fucking car, Lexi.”
When I still hesitated, he planted his hand between my shoulder blades and shoved me forward. The move sent me tumbling into the back seat, head first. Just as I righted myself and looked back at him, Nico was tackled to the ground by some black-clothed behemoth wearing a balaclava over his face.
A scream flew off my lips as I watched the two men exchange punches, rolling around on the ground in a vicious wrestling match. Nico delivered a right hook to the giant’s jaw, snapping his head to the side, and sending blood spewing from his mouth. I flinched whenever the masked man got in a good hit to Nico’s face, followed by a swift punch to his ribs.
I wasn’t sure why the sight horrified me.
Nor why I was even concerned.
Nico was more than holding his own. In fact, he barely even grunted as he absorbed those blows. More than anything, it just looked to rocket him from mildly angry, all the way up to furious-fucking-mad. Nico’s quick rabbit punch to Goliath’s kidney had the man doubling over with a pained groan and sprawling out on the ground.
Nico sprang to his feet and didn’t spare his sparring partner another glance. He dove into the backseat with me as blood trickled from his lip.
“Go!” he shouted.
The driver slammed on the accelerator, tires spitting out gravel behind us.
Nico kept his eye on the back window as the car careened off my father’s estate and onto the highway. He still held his gun up, finger near the trigger, knuckles torn and bloody—
“Blyad’!” Fuck! “Are you okay?”
I instinctively reached for his hands, but pulled them back at the last second. It wasn’t my place to care for him. He probably wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway.
Brow furrowing in confusion, Nico followed my gaze and scoffed. “I’ve had much worse. Fucker’s jaw was made of glass.”
Okay, so that clearly hadn’t been his first fight. He’d handled himself with too much expertise to be a rookie at throwing punches. And I begrudgingly had to admit that I felt the teensiest bit better about being in this man’s company, knowing he was capable of defending himself and those around him.
Not that I was expecting him to be my protector or anything.
It was just nice to know that my new husband wasn’t a wimp.
Once we got far enough away from the estate, he turned around in his seat to face forward. Cracking his neck from side-to-side, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking highly annoyed. He didn’t seem to care that hanks of his hair had fallen loose of his bun and were hanging over his ears. He also didn’t pay any attention to the blood on his knuckles, nor to the small trail running from the corner of his mouth.
Does he not feel pain?
Trapped inside this tiny space together, I couldn’t escape his scent. Woodsy and smoky at the same time, with a hint of leather. Not smoky like cigarette smoke, but smoky like the flavor. As if he’d dabbed his fingers inside a bottle of rich whiskey and rubbed it all over his neck. It reminded me of the inside of the barrel room at a winery I’d toured in England