Theirs to Protect (Mafia Menage Trilogy 3)

I wrapped my arms around him, letting him feel that I was with him, safe and sound. His powerful shoulders rippled under my touch. “I’m okay,” I promised softly.

Marco’s brows drew together, harsh slashes that shadowed his eyes. “That’s not what I asked.” His thumbs brushed my cheekbones, handling me as though I was made of glass.

“Come on, angel,” Joseph urged, his palm spanning my lower back. “Let’s all sit down, and we’ll talk.” When Marco didn’t budge, he continued, “Ashlyn isn’t hurt. But you can inspect every inch of her more comfortably in our bedroom than the front hall.”

We’d barely stepped inside our house before Marco had captured my face in his hands. Joseph locked the door and headed for the stairs that led to our bedroom. Finally, Marco allowed him to guide us away from the front door. But he wasn’t content simply holding my hand. He scooped me up in his powerful arms, cradling me against his chest as he carried me to our bed. I sighed and tucked my face into his shoulder, breathing in his masculine scent. Calm settled over me like a warm blanket, and the tension in Marco’s body drained away, too.

“Joseph?” I reached for him, knowing that he also needed this intimate contact. His hand closed around mine, holding on tight.

Despite their warmth, a block of ice formed in my stomach. Something awful had happened, and not just to me. My men were deeply shaken. Something had been wrong yesterday, too. I just hadn’t been able to put my finger on it.

No wonder I’d had a nightmare about Costa. Something terrible was going on, and they had hidden it from me. They were trying to bear the burden and shield me from whatever it was, but I couldn’t allow that. I would never be physically strong like they were, but they needed to lean on me just as much as I relied on their support.

When we stepped into the bedroom, Marco carried me directly to the bed, arranging my body on the center of our soft blue duvet. His thick fingers found the delicate zipper at the side of my dress, but I stopped him before he could remove it. Joseph had been serious about Marco inspecting every inch of me, but that could wait. If I let them get me naked, I’d lose myself in the intensity of their touch and our physical chemistry.

I gently grasped Marco’s hand and directed it away from my zipper. His jaw firmed as I sat up straight and scooted to the edge of the bed, bracing myself for a conversation rather than seduction.

“Please tell me what’s happening.” My gaze swept Joseph as well. “I need to know what’s going on. Who is Ciro?”

Saying the name was a mistake. A feral snarl rumbled from Marco’s chest, and his hand cupped my nape, gently tipping my head back so I was forced to stare up at him. His eyes burned into mine. “Jayme said he kissed you. Is that true?”

“Is it true, angel? Did he touch you?” Joseph’s voice was nearly as rough as Marco’s. The mattress dipped as his weight settled beside me, and his thumb traced my lips, as though the heat of his skin could wash away any taint that Ciro had left on my flesh.

“Just my cheek.” The admission was little more than a whisper. The ferocity of their protectiveness took my breath away. I ached to ease their worry, their pain. “He didn’t hurt me,” I promised. “Really, he barely brushed my skin. He was only leaning in so Jayme wouldn’t hear him…” I cut myself off, hoping that they would leave it there. I didn’t want to tell them about Ciro’s taunt or the awful things he’d implied.

When I see Russo and De Luca, I’ll have to show them how to keep their woman in line. Ciro’s words reminded me of Gabriel Costa, how he’d held me down while he forced me to watch Joseph dying right before my eyes…

“What did he say to you?” Marco’s voice still rumbled like a predator, but his tone was softer, coaxing rather than commanding.

“He knew our names. He told me to tell you both hello from him.”

The memory of Gabriel Costa’s taunting words echoed through my mind, layering over tonight’s nauseating events: Your son can watch me fuck his whore while he bleeds out.

I swallowed against the bile rising in my throat. I couldn’t get the image of Joseph dying out of my brain. There had been so much blood…

“Hold her, Joseph.” Marco ordered.

Instantly, Joseph’s arms closed around me, guiding me to curl up in his lap. Marco sat beside us and started tracing the line of my spine with long, slow sweeps of his palm. I hadn’t realized how ragged my breathing had become until I started to match the rhythm to Marco’s strokes. Joseph’s hand closed over mine, and I realized that my fingers were pressed tight to his scar.