Argentinian Billionaire (Blood and Thunder 2)
“You can’t stop me. Now get out of my way—”
Opening the gate, she led the way with the other horses charging after her. If the gang had thought to gain themselves a precious hoard of horseflesh, they’d just lost their investment. Rose had reached the horse transporter, where her father was waiting to help her.
Dante and the team stormed the farmhouse. It was a short, violent fight. Once the worst of it was over and his team was handcuffing the handful of gang members, Dante moved from room to room, gun cocked, to make sure the house was clear. He was thinking “job done” until the front door crashed open and a burst of automatic fire almost took him out. Diving for cover, he returned fire, then stopped as two shots rang out in quick succession. There was a howl of pain and the crash of a semiautomatic weapon bouncing on a stone-flagged floor. Like some latter-day goddess of war, Rose stood over the thug who had menaced her father.
Springing up, Dante yanked her to safety behind him as he covered the man groaning on the floor. “Where did you learn shit like that?”
She lowered the gun. “My brothers had a shooting range.” She shrugged. “No one threatens my father while I’ve got breath in my body.” Stepping over the man, she calmly picked up her mother’s photograph and put it back on top of the piano. “The Garda has arrived,” she informed him in a voice as calm and collected as you like. “We can go now. Leave them to clean up. I heard them praise your team,” she added with a faint smile of approval as he held the door.
He had never admired a woman more than he admired Rose at that moment.
~~o0o~~
Rose was almost floating with relief by the time the farmhouse was declared safe. She couldn’t wait to get her father inside. Hours later, he still looked pale and badly shaken, and no wonder. She’d made him a cup of strong, sweet tea for the shock and sat with him so he could wind down before bed. He didn’t deserve to be threatened and bullied after a lifetime of hard work and doing his best by everyone.
“You can relax now, Pa,” she hurried to reassure him when he sighed. “The horses are back safe on the farm and no worse off for their adventure.”
“But how are you?” he asked, frowning as he glanced up.
“Me?” She smiled to reassure him and kept the facts to a minimum so as not to cause him further alarm. “I’m fine. The Garda has done a final sweep and declared the farm safe.”
“You know I’m not talking about that,” her pa insisted with a touch of impatience.
“Well, I don’t know what else I’d have to worry about,” she insisted, smiling as she tried to convince him. “The forensics team are satisfied they’ve got everything they need. Dante and his team have gone with the Garda to sort out the paperwork and liaise with the various agencies, and the remaining thugs have been carted off to the cells—”
“You never were a good liar,” her father interrupted. “We were almost killed, and it’s my fault. I’ve had my life, but you’ve got everything in front of you. You shouldn’t be having to worry about me.”
She leaned over to grip his hand briefly. “So long as you’re safe, I’m happy. Everything will be all right now,” she promised. She hoped. She knew what he was getting at: Dante Formosa. Her father was too wise and knew her too well not to see the way she and Dante had looked at each other.
Even when he relaxed back, she doubted she’d convinced him. She was hopeless at hiding the fact that her heart was twisting in knots as she wondered when, or even if she’d see Dante again.
“I was young once,” her pa said, distracting her. “Don’t look so worried. Dante will be fine. And he’ll be back,” he insisted. “He has to come back. I have to thank him. And so do you.”
When she looked up and shrugged, he added, “And have you forgotten the horses? I’ll bet you a pound to a penny he hasn’t.”
Now she smiled. She’d told her father that Dante was a world-class polo player and that she’d mentioned Stargazer to him as a prospect for his team. Trust her pa to get straight to the bones of the matter.
“We should have a Ceilidh to celebrate getting rid of those thugs,” he went on, rocking in his chair as he thought about it. “We could do with some fun around here.”
“If that’s what you want, Pa.”
“Never mind what I want, it’s what you need,” he insisted. “The next time we see him, we’ll invite Dante to join us. What d’you say about that?”
“I can’t imagine him coming along to a simple village Ceilidh.”
“Have more faith Rose,” her pa said confidently. “I know he’ll come.”
Chapter Seven
Dante arrived at the farmhouse at dawn the following morning with a small team of men. The noise of the SUV crunching into the yard brought Rose to the window, and now Dante and his colleagues were standing in front of her, in a neat, disciplined line.
“Good morning, Rose.”
Dante’s familiar husky tone washed heat through every part of her. “Good morning, Dante.” So much for keeping her thoughts under wraps. The sexual tension between them had to be obvious to everyone.
“Tea, Rose, tea,” her father insisted, distracting her as he hurried downstairs in his pajamas to greet his guests.
She was glad of something to do, apart from stare at Dante, especially when he simply raised a brow and stared back at her, expressionless. By the look of his men, she thought they would prefer a shot of neat bull’s blood to tea. They’d brought the scent of cold air, clean clothes, and hot, toned muscle into the farmhouse. Like Dante, they were battle ready. “Have you had any sleep?” she asked Dante.