Page 42 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

RAFAEL

Anger pours through me in waves, so hot and consuming that the cold doesn’t touch me—even though I’m walking through the parking lot in nothing but my dress shirt and pants. Behind me, Enzo climbs out of the car with my jacket in his hands, his footsteps echoing off the concrete as he follows.

As I walk towards the darker end of the lot, headlights sweep across the space—more cars arriving. More of my men.

When I got the text from Stefano about what happened here, I was in the middle of a call with some of my employees, waiting for word from the men who were supposed to bring Emilia to me tonight.

The message made me see red so fast I left my office without ending the call, without grabbing my jacket, without thinking about anything except getting her.

I don’t expect the murderous rage pumping through my system to cool until I’ve personally dealt with every single fucker who caused this.

But then I see her—curled up on the cold concrete, so still and small that for one heart-stopping moment I think she might be dead.

Only the slight rise and fall of her chest tells me otherwise .

“ Rafael .” My name falls from her lips as barely a whisper, but her mouth lifts into the faintest smile.

My heart clenches so hard it’s physically painful.

I drop to my knees beside her, one hand stretched back towards Enzo.

“Jacket.” The moment the fabric touches my palm, I drape it over her battered body and carefully gather her into my arms. Despite my gentleness, she still groans in pain, and the sound is like a bullet to my chest. Every pained breath she takes makes me want to tear the world apart with my bare hands.

I should have been there. I should have protected her.

“My friend,” she whispers weakly. “Katie...”

I nod at Enzo. “My men will take care of her.” I keep my voice steady, reassuring, as I start walking as slowly as humanly possible across the pavement, terrified that any sudden movement will cause her more pain. “Send the chopper to fetch Jamie,” I order one of the men standing by.

Jamie is one of the doctors at Gianna’s hospital.

Michael getting his wife a hospital was a stroke of genius. Now our men can go in and get patched up without involving cops or nosy civilians. But since it’s a bit out of the way, sometimes we need someone to come to us, which is where Jamie’s house calls become invaluable.

“Take the girl to the hospital,” I tell Enzo as I ease into the backseat of my Rolls Royce with Emilia cradled against me.

She stirs in my arms. “Are we going to the same hospital as Katie?”

“No.” I adjust my hold, making sure she’s secure. “You are coming home with me where you’ll be safe. Your friend will be fine at the hospital.”

I already have Stefano on the tail of the bastards who did this.

My girl attracts trouble the way honey attracts flies. So this could have been anyone—the Russians, rival Italian dons, other criminals she’s pissed off during her federal career. Christ, it’s a damn miracle she’s survived this long without me.

Well, not completely without me. I’ve always kept an eye on her. Just not close enough.

My heart constricts when I look down at her.

Her face isn’t too banged up, but there’s some redness along her chin that makes my jaw clench, and from the careful way she’s holding herself, I know her ribs are screaming.

When I find the animals who did this to her, they’ll spend their last moments on earth begging for death.

We ride in tense silence for the first couple of minutes while I mentally catalog exactly how I’m going to end each of those assholes' lives. Six against two? Fucking cowards.

“You know, I–I was just thinking about how—” she begins, then pauses, shuddering as she tries to catch her breath. “—how to crawl to your penthouse… when you showed up like a mirage.” Another pained shudder. “No, not a mirage. Angel. My angel.”

I huff a breath of amusement. “No one’s ever accused me of being an angel before.” The devil, a demon, a monster—those are more accurate. “Don’t talk,” I add when she opens her mouth again. Her words warm something cold inside me, but speaking is clearly causing her pain.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real heat in that honey gaze. I chuckle despite everything. Even though this situation is far from ideal, I finally have her within my reach, and this time I’m going to make sure she never slips away again.

I glance up as our car slows, pulling into the underground parking lot of my building. “Hold on, baby,” I murmur as Alfred brings us to a smooth stop. I wait for one of my men to get the door before carefully stepping out with the precious bundle in my arms.

“Is Jamie here?” I ask Pierre as we make our way to the elevator. Enzo and several others have already left for the hospital with Emilia’s friend, Katie.

“Yes, boss. Arrived here a few minutes ago. He’s setting up in the master bedroom,” he answers, tapping the elevator call button.

“Master bedroom?” Emilia shifts in my arms, confusion in her voice.

“Shh,” I quiet her with a gentle murmur, nodding at Pierre as I get into the elevator. He leans in to press the P button for me, then steps back out as the doors slide shut.

“What did he mean the doctor is setting up in the master bedroom?” she asks again.

Instead of answering directly, I ask, “Would you really have come to my penthouse tonight?” I’m partly trying to distract her from the pain, but mostly I just need to know. I’ve been burning with curiosity ever since she mentioned it.

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth, hesitating. “I’ve had the opportunity to think about a lot of things lately.”

I wonder if that has anything to do with her visit to Maximo this afternoon. I want to ask what they talked about, but that can wait for now. “So, you know now that I didn’t kill your father?”

Say it. Say you believe me. Say you know I could never hurt you like that.

“I think… there must have been a misunderstanding. Someone misinterpreted what they saw… or something.”

Close enough. She’s not ready to admit she was lied to, but I think she’s figured it out. She’s a smart girl. I let it go for now as the elevator doors slide open. Holding her tightly, I step out into the foyer.

Leo, one of the men stationed to watch Jamie, moves towards me, his eyes full of concern as he takes in the bundle in my arms. Emilia tucks her face into my shoulder, suddenly shy, and something possessive and protective roars to life in my chest.

I ignore Leos’s questioning look, focusing entirely on climbing the stairs to the second floor as gently as possible. Every step makes her wince, and each pained sound is like a knife to my heart.

“I’m sorry, love,” I murmur, and she nods tightly.

My bedroom door stands open. Jamie is inside, setting up a line attached to an IV drip. I nudge the door closed with my back and cross to the bed, gently placing my precious cargo against the headboard in a semi-sitting position.

“Well, hello there. Not looking your best, I have to say.” Jamie offers Emilia a sympathetic smile.

Understatement of the fucking century.

She manages a bitter laugh. “Tell me about it. Every single joint in my body aches.”

Jamie approaches the bed and I step back to give him room to work, though every instinct scream at me to hover. My hands clench into fists as I resist the urge to take out my phone and demand Stefano to share the location of Emilia’s attackers so I can go fuck them up.

Patience. Take care of her first. Revenge second .

“Well, the good news is that it’s not as bad as I expected, and by morning the worst of the pain should be over. I’ll give you something for the pain right now, though it will probably knock you out.”

“Give it to her,” I say before she can answer, because knowing her, she’ll try to refuse.

“No, Rafael, I can’t be knocked out. I need to check on Katie, and I need to be up to–”

“This is not negotiable, piccola . Your friend is fine. My men are with her, and she’s safe in that hospital. When you wake up in the morning, I’ll update you on her condition. For now, take the meds.” I look at Jamie. “Give it to her. ”

The doctor glances between us for a moment, then picks up some tubes and leans towards her. I watch him like a hawk as he gently applies ointments to the bruises mottling her skin. No open wounds, thank God, but the sight of those angry red marks pisses me the fuck off.

He finishes with the ointments and reaches for a medium-sized needle. “Getting you on an IV will allow the medications to go directly into your bloodstream, which will help you heal faster,” he explains as he attaches the needle to the line connected to the drip.

I hold my breath, resisting the weird as fuck compulsion to close my eyes like I’m squeamish around a little blood. Ridiculous, considering I’ve tortured men with my bare hands, pulled teeth with pliers, but somehow, watching someone stick a needle in her delicate skin feels worse. Fucking hell.

I force myself to keep my eyes open, wincing along with Emilia as Jamie inserts the needle into her vein and secures it with a medical tape.

“There, all done,” he says lightly. “Didn’t hurt much, did it?”

Everything hurts right now, you idiot.

Emilia shrugs, staring down at her left hand where the IV sits.

“In about thirty minutes to an hour, the medications will kick in, and you’ll fall asleep,” he continues. “You should feel way better by morning.”

“Thank you so much.”

“No need to thank me, ma’am. Just doing my job,” he replies humbly as he packs up, like he doesn’t get paid his weight in gold.

“This is the only infusion you’ll need, so I’ll leave now.

Rafael is experienced with it, so he knows how to monitor the drip and remove the needle when the bag empties.

Try not to move that hand too much—we don’t want the needle getting dislodged from your vein. ”

Just as he finishes speaking, a ringtone pierces the air .

That fucking phone. The damn thing has interrupted my time with Emilia enough for me to recognize it as her ringtone.

She struggles to fish the device from her pocket one-handed, and I notice the screen is spider-webbed with cracks. That must have happened during the fight.

She stiffens when she sees the caller ID, and instinctively I signal Jamie to leave us alone. He’s done anyway. I can handle the rest. “Are you going to answer that?” I ask as the door closes behind the doctor.

She frowns. “I’m leaning towards a no.”

“Your boss?” I guess.

She glances up at me, and I don’t need words to read the confirmation on her face. “Answer it and put it on speakerphone.”

“Rafael, no, it’s–”

“Do you want me to answer it for you?” I demand.

“They probably know you’re here, and if you don’t pick up, they might use that as justification to try storming in here.

Is that what you want?” They wouldn’t succeed, of course, but the possibility finally motivates her to accept the call, putting it on speakerphone as I instructed.

“I heard you made your way into Rafael Moretti’s penthouse. Very clever girl.” A deep voice fills the air, and Emilia’s eyes lock with mine. If this asshole knows she’s in my home, then he knows the circumstances that brought her here. He’s not even going to ask if she’s okay?

He continues obnoxiously. “Such a shame you had to get hurt to achieve that feat, but nevertheless, you’re in. This is our chance.”

“Our chance? Our chance for what, Greg?” Emilia’s voice is so cold it raises my brow. He deserves it, sure, but this man is clearly her superior. There’s not usually room for that kind of defiance in the bureau, or any government agency for that matter .

The man seems equally surprised by her tone. He pauses, but then barrels on. “Our chance to get him and the Nightshades, obviously. You can use this chance to ransack his home and find concrete evidence to take him down.”

My fists clench as fury explodes through me. Is this how they got her to betray me ten years ago? I shove the thought aside, but my rage remains. I turn away, muscles coiled with violent tension, needing movement to keep from putting my fist through the wall.

“ No .”

What?

I spin back around at Emilia's single, ice-cold response.

“No? What do you mean, no? Did you get hit in the head?” He sighs. “I’ll let you rest and call you in the morning when you’re more yourself.”

“I said no. I know what I’m saying, and I mean it. I–” The line goes dead. He hung up on her. She blows out a breath of pure frustration and deflates against the headboard. “Well, that went well.”

“That sounds like you might get into trouble. Perhaps a two-month suspension this time?” I remember her suspension last year after the Maximo situation.

“That’s if I don’t quit first.” Her casual tone makes my heart jerk in my chest. I was going to talk her into quitting—gently, over time, after I’d convinced her to marry me. But she’s getting there on her own?

“Why?”

“The attack tonight. The men—I managed to disarm one of them briefly, and the gun was the bureau’s standard issue.” Her brows furrow as she shakes her head, clearly still processing.

She doesn’t voice her suspicion, but I know what she’s thinking: someone within the bureau wants her dead.

But why? Who?

Damn it, what did she get herself into? She's not just being targeted by criminals—she’s being attacked by her own people. Caught between two worlds, and both sides want her dead.

I need to protect her.

Desperation claws at my throat. There’s only one way to really do that.

“Marry me.”