Take (Deliver 5)

“Not a chance.” He turned to his medical supplies and started putting things away.

“Why not?”

“He secured you that way for a reason, and they will stay until he decides to remove them.”

Dammit.

“You didn’t answer my first question.” She took in Tiago’s pallid complexion and the bandages that covered half of his torso. “He’s going to live, right?”

“He’s very lucky. If the bullet hit anywhere else on his chest, even just slightly to the left, it would’ve damaged organs or bones. Surgery in a van is less than ideal.”

“He would’ve died.”

“Yes.”

“What about the blood loss?”

“No arteries were nicked. He’ll be weak for a while, but he’ll recover. The priority right now is getting him to safety.”

The hairs on her nape lifted. “Are we in danger?”

“He’s a wanted man.” He stared down at Tiago’s face with a troubled look. “There will always be danger.”

She considered the long list of enemies he’d acquired over the years. No matter what he did going forward, he would never escape what he’d done.

“He can’t leave this life, can he?” She swallowed. “Even if he wanted to?”

“When he avenged my daughter’s death, he was labeled as a criminal and forced to live like one. He’s safer here, among other criminals, than out there in normal society. Here, in the heart of hell, he’s protected.”

She shivered at what his words meant. What they meant for her. If she didn’t escape, his violent world would become her life. If she managed to get away, she would lose him.

“Are we going to his compound?” she asked. “That’s where he lives, right?”

“He did.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m taking you to his penthouse in Caracas.”

“He has a penthouse?” She couldn’t imagine it.

“It’s a luxury he owns but never indulged in. He kept it for my brothers and me. He didn’t want us sleeping in the filth of his slum, and he doesn’t want you sleeping there, either.”

“No more mattresses on the floor?”

“He has a very nice, very large bed in the penthouse that has never been slept in.” He cast her a knowing look. “Or used in any way.”

She refused to acknowledge his response and held up her shackled arm. “What happens when we get there and I need to pee?”

“Hold it or release it. The handcuffs stay on.”Tiago woke to the immaculate face of an angel. She floated over him, her vivid blue eyes backlit by a halo of golden hair. The seam of her cupid lips separated, and he wanted nothing more than to hear her voice, taste her kiss, and lose himself in her ferocity.

“I must be dead.” Confusion poked at his muddled brain. “Except angels don’t exist in hell.”

“Not dead.” The angel scowled. “But you should be.”

Kate.

Alive.

Relief cut through the dull pain in his chest. “Where are we?”

“The garage of your penthouse.” She leaned to the side, revealing the interior of a cargo van.

At the rear, Boones stood in the open doors, flanked by two men. Tiago didn’t know them, but he trusted Boones to choose only the best for his personal security.

There would always be traitors, but Iliana’s death should serve as a deterrent for the time being.

He flexed his arms and rolled his neck, testing his strength and mobility. Muscles protested, but the pain didn’t make him want to hurl his guts. Definitely an improvement from the jungle.

“What’s the damage?” He glanced down at his torso but could only see clean bandages.

“You’ll live.” Boones stepped back and motioned at the men. “They’re going to carry you up.”

“Fuck that.” He pushed to a sitting position and swayed beneath an onslaught of vertigo.

“Tiago.” Kate gripped the metal bracelet on his wrist and tugged at the other half still attached to her. “Remove the handcuffs. It’ll be easier if you’re not dragging me along beside you.”

No way would he release her until she was safely locked behind the doors of the penthouse.

Shifting to the rear of the van, he lowered his boots to the ground, rose to his full height, and waited for the dizziness to pass.

The walk to the elevator was a short trip of staggering steps, grabbing hands, and glowering disapproval. Most of the scowls came from Kate, but her fingers gripped his arm with the kind of support no one could give him but her.

By the time he entered the top floor, his body was drenched in sweat and the pain had morphed into a fire-breathing entity inside his chest.

“Idiot,” Boones said in his native tongue and walked past him, heading toward the master bedroom.

“If the roles were reversed…” She trudged along beside him, surveying the contemporary interior of the penthouse. “I’d be draped over your shoulder like a caveman’s whore.”

“Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll carry you like that again.” He caught himself on the doorframe of the master bedroom.

“A couple of hours?” She gaped at him. “You’re going to be in bed for days. Maybe weeks.”