Too Late To Beg, Mr. Mafia Don

ella

nt Sinai Hospital. Black armored SUVs formed a barricade, and heavily armed Soldi

en settled, the rear

staff watching from the glass doors. His large hand clamped down on my arm like a stee

ne. His icy blue eyes were completely feral, burning with a murderous intent that would have

ted my designer sunglasses, meeting his lethal gla

s a confession of cold-blooded guilt. His jaw clenched so hard I thought the bone might snap. Without another word, h

heavy door of

c. Giuliana lay in the center of the high-tech bed. Her head was wrappe

terrified gasp. She shrank back against the pillows, her tre

gile, broken whisper. "Damien, please... kee

g protectively over her as his savior complex went into overdrive. When he turned his head

y arms. I didn't see a victim. Through the lens of

uliana," I said, my voice slicing th

e, his fists balled. "S

they don't spray outward onto the dressing after it's been applied. That's a burst blood pack." I let my gaze drop to her elevate

tched, a flicker of panic

r dead, we would be discussing how to dredge her car from the bottom of the Hudson Ri

pping the screen to open the camera. "Let's

damn phone!"

rmal woman would have frozen. I executed a micro-shift. I twisted my ankle just a fraction of

carried him forward, and his heavy fist smashed straight int

k on my feet, smoothing the invisible wri

, the blind rage in his eyes suddenly fracturing into profound, unsettling confusion. He was a master o

document this 'attack'?" I a

, her knuckles white as she gripped the sheets. For the first tim