The drive from the hospital to the St. Regis was a blur of neon lights and the lingering scent of gunpowder. My hands were tight on the steering wheel, my knuckles white. I had just walked out of a literal bloodbath, my mind screaming with the need to pull Chloe and Leo into my arms and disappear into the shadows of my fortress.
But I didn't have that right. Not anymore.
I pulled the Mercedes to the curb across from the hotel, the engine idling like a low, predatory growl. I didn't step out. I couldn't. Chloe hadn't given me a "free hand" to enter her space, and as much as the Mafia King in me wanted to kick down her door, the man in me was paralyzed by the wall she had built between us.
