Page 5 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

The dogs are getting closer, and I realize we're not going to make it to the wall.

Shots are fired from the other side of the house, but not at us.

Hopefully, whoever this is or whatever is happening will keep Giovanni occupied enough not to come looking for the girl.

If he finds her with me, being dead will be the least of our problems.

"Hurry, up that tree." I point at my favorite tree in the yard. With some luck, we might still make it over the wall.

The tree is easy to climb, and I've spent many afternoons hiding in it.

Nobody ever found me when I was in here.

I give the girl a boost as she sets her bare foot on top of the first branch and then follow her, just as a dog tries to nip at my ankle.

Quickly, I pull up my leg. I note with approval that she is already higher up and still climbing.

Soon, four dogs surround us. Madre di Dio , if they don't stop, they'll give us away.

"I'm Izzy," the girl says, looking down at me.

"Catalina," I reply, momentarily changing my focus from the dogs to her.

"Thank you." Tears brim in her eyes. "I won't forget this, I swear."

"First, we need to get out of here," I warn her. We're not safe yet.

"Go, shoo," I tell the dogs, waving my hands, hoping they remember the treats I gave them over the years.

"What are we going to do?" Izzy asks. She looks fragile, sitting on a branch, her back leaning against the tree trunk, her knees hugged close.

"I don't know, but as long as those dogs are here, we're screwed. We can't do anything. We can't get down, and they'll give us away."

She nods her understanding, but she doesn't look defeated. Hope flares once again on her face when I climb up past her, finding a sturdy branch. I grab it with both hands and let my legs fall. The dogs go even crazier, but I'm still way above their heads.

"Cat, what are you doing?" Izzy's whispered call is alarmed.

Hand over hand, I maneuver myself closer to the next tree.

I've done this before, climbed from one tree to the other, like a monkey.

One of the only times I've been happy about not weighing much.

Unfortunately, the tree trimmers must have been here recently; the branch from the other tree is gone.

Shit . Discouraged, I make my way back, spurred on by the dogs' frantic barking.

Two jump up and down, coming too close to my bare feet for my comfort.

Izzy holds out her hand to help me, but I don't need it.

"You're crazy," she grins.

Probably , I agree. Crazy for having freed her, crazy for trying to get us out of here. Crazy for thinking we ever stood a chance.

She cocks her head.

"What?" I ask.

"The shots have stopped." She replies thoughtfully.

She's right. The night has fallen silent once again, aside from the damn dogs.

"They'll come for us," Izzy's expression is resigned.

I look up the tree. We could climb higher. But the stupid dogs are like freaking beacons.

"I'm sorry," I say.

A sound of another gun firing rings out, startling us. A man howls in pain.

"Oh God," Izzy starts to pray.

I take her in my arms.

"They'll torture me, won't they?"

Another shot rings out, followed by another man's anguished howl.

I don't answer her. We both know the answer.

"What will they do to you?" Her voice is strained with worry, fear, and a barely audible sob. Something inside me melts. How can she be capable of thinking about me right now? I'm so grateful for her words; my eyes sting. It's been years since anybody cared about me. I try to play it off and shrug.

"They'll only be looking for me," she suddenly, vehemently says, "climb up higher, they won't look for you."

Now my eyes swim, and I have to blink the tears back. I hug her close, wondering if she can possibly know what her words, her concern, mean to me. Stubbornly, I shake my head. "No way."

"You don't even know me," she pleads.

"Doesn't matter. I'm sick of living in fear.

If this ends here, tonight, so be it." I mean it, too.

Every word. I want this to be over with one way or another.

Not even the threat to my family deters me anymore.

There comes a point in life where enough is just enough, and I've reached it.

I don't know what happened, but I think it has something to do with Roberto calling me a mouse .

Of all the things the Giordano's have done to me, including taking one of my fingers, somehow this is the worst. Or the last drop.

I'm not sure. It really doesn't matter, anyway.

I only hope my family will forgive me, because that's the only hope I have left.

There is no doubt in my mind that Giovanni will make good on his promise of killing them.

But tonight, something inside me changed, or woke up, and I realize that all this time we've been living on borrowed time.

I'd briefly hoped that something good would come out of it, like saving Izzy, but that doesn't seem to be going to happen either.

A third shot increases the dogs' frenzy. Izzy and I cling to each other, scared to death, sisters in our fate and fear.

Suddenly, a whistle pierces the night, and a man's voice shouts, "Go home!"

"Enrico." Izzy sits up straighter, her face filled with hope.

I want to ask her who Enrico is, but my words freeze as the dogs fall silent, and, one by one, they slink off.

I follow her gaze. And see him . Enrico, undoubtedly.

He steps out of the shadows like he owns them.

The night doesn't hide him; it unleashes him.

He wears black from head to toe, and his presence creates a fluttering inside my stomach that is alien, yet carries a hint of familiarity.

The floodlights skim across the sharp lines of his face, catching on the hard cut of his jaw and the lethal glint in his expression.

He doesn't move like a man. He moves like a dangerous king .

My breath catches. Not just in relief, but in something darker, deeper. A heat that curls in my stomach and dares to move lower.

"Are you girls going to spend all night up there, or do you want to come down?" His voice rolls over me, so deep it feels like it was made to be obeyed.

Izzy yells his name, "Enrico!" and launches herself off the branch before I can stop her. She jumps without hesitation— without fear —and lands right in his arms. How could she have been so sure he wouldn't drop her?

His hold is solid. Effortless. He catches her like she weighs nothing, wraps her into him, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

He looks so relieved, a jolt of envy moves through me, intensified by the way she melts into his chest. Sheer, undiluted desire rises inside me.

How I wish someone would hold me like that.

At the same time, I'm incredibly happy for her.

She's safe. After all, that's what I wanted.

Still, I'm clinging to the tree, staring at them, frozen.

Now that he's closer, I see him more clearly.

He's massive, but it's not just his size.

It's in the aura of power that surrounds him, his still composure.

The kind of quiet that follows men like him into a room and makes everyone else instinctively shut the hell up.

His features are harsh. A crooked nose splits a face that was probably carved from stone; it's a bit too sharp to be classically handsome, but it's striking in a way that makes it impossible to look away. His eyes are black like the night sky; they're unreadable and appear unforgiving.

I realize this is a man who doesn't ask. He takes.

It becomes terrifyingly clear to me that what I want him to take is me .

Izzy slides down his body, and his muscles bulge underneath his jacket. He presses Izzy to him and places another kiss on top of her head in open, unrestricted affection.

"Izzy," his voice cracks with pain. It's obvious he cares for her.

His eyes scan her from head to toe; his frown deepens at the sight of blood clinging to one side of her face.

What would it be like to have a man like him care for me?

I can't even remember the last time someone hugged me.

I think it might have been Flora, the last housekeeper.

She used to sneak me food sometimes, too.

She's been gone two years, just disappeared one day. I never dared ask what happened to her.

"You came for me." She sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you."

"We'll talk about that—and your punishment—later; let's get you home first, eh, mi amore?"

A shudder moves through me. I know all about punishments. I can't abide the thought of him hurting her. Without thinking, I jump from the branch, landing in a crouch at his feet.

"Don't hurt her." The words tear out of me before I even register the weight of them.

My knees sting from the landing, my palms press into the ground for balance, but I don't care.

I'm not thinking, I'm just driven by the same instinct to keep her safe that has been driving me since I heard her silent sobs.

He turns his gaze on me slowly. Those black eyes lock with mine, and the air around us thickens.

For one terrible second, I think I've made a mistake.

That I've crossed a line I didn't even see.

But he doesn't explode, he cocks his head and studies me.

Quietly and intently. Like I'm a puzzle he didn't know he wanted to solve.

A small tick by his mouth indicates suppressed amusement.

In a rough voice, he asks, "Who is your friend, Izzy? "

"That's Cat, Catalina. She saved me."

He arches a well-groomed brow at me. "Is that so?"

Izzy nods adamantly. "She did. She has to come with us. They'll kill her."

His face hardens, the protective edge flaring like a blade unsheathed. "I'll deal with the men who dared take you," he says in an ice-cold voice that leaves no room for doubt about what he'll do to the Giordanos.

I swallow hard under his intense stare. I want to crawl into a corner, hide, and pray nobody pays attention to me, but then my spine straightens.

No, I left that girl behind. I'm not going to be that cowardly mouse any longer.

I gather my courage, which is rekindling after discovering it wasn't Giovanni's men who found us, but him.

"I mean it," I whisper, still on the ground. "I know what punishment means. Don't hurt her."

"I would never hurt her," Enrico says.

The words are low, clipped even. But there is something about him that makes me believe him.

I watch him set Izzy gently on her feet, one large hand lingering protectively on her shoulder.

Then he crouches— crouches —in front of me until we're eye level.

Somehow, that is even more intimidating than him towering over me.

"You're afraid," he states, but not like an accusation. It's an observation. I swallow the lump in my throat. I want to appear brave.

"I don't hurt what's mine," he says.

The words should terrify me, but they don't. Miraculously, they soothe the part in me that's been screaming for years.

He holds out his hand and helps me to my feet, then turns back to Izzy, and the edgy hardness from before returns to his face.

"Let's get you out of here. Then I'll see to the Giordanos. "

"They were going to torture her. They were waiting for a man named Ringo." I push out, feeling like he needs to hear this. Uncaring about repercussions any longer.

His jaw flexes. "Will you testify to that?"

Testify? Who is that man? Some kind of cop?

The question must be written all over my face, because he adds, "To Don Edoardo."

"Oh," I bite my lower lip. Of course. You can't just kill a capo without having to answer to the Capo dei Capi. That's when renewed hope flares through me. Whoever this man is, he holds some kind of power. "If I do, will you save my parents?"