My body is wracked with aches and pains as I push my limbs harder, willing them not to give up on me now. But I’m so tired. Tired of constantly running, constantly being chased. I had no intention of stopping in New York, but my damn car broke down, and I literally had to flee for my life, abandoning all my belongings as two men came after me. Perhaps fate has brought me back here on purpose. Maybe this is where it all ends.
How fucking ironic that in a city of millions I almost get run over by the one person I need to avoid. Cristian warned me he’d kill me if I ever came back, and I think Lady Luck is about to run out.
“Sloane, stop.”
Panic crashes into me at how close he sounds, and I force my limbs to move faster, but my gimpy leg wobbles, the old injury throbbing from the inside, and I falter, stumbling on my feet, screaming as I fall. But I don’t faceplant the asphalt because familiar arms are there to catch me. Briefly, I close my eyes, letting Cristian’s warmth sink into my bones one final time.
If this is the way I go out, it’s not the worst way to go.
“Sloane,” he whispers, slowly turning me around in his arms.
Swallowing over the sudden lump in my throat, I lift my head as my heart flips somersaults and butterflies swoop into my chest. Our eyes connect for the first time in years, and we stare at one another, drinking each other in as the five-year drought ends.
Cristian looks the same. Like he hasn’t aged at all. He’s still drop-dead gorgeous with this intense charisma I can’t help being drawn to. I struggle to believe any part of this man was ever mine. His piercing green eyes still hold enormous power over me as his gaze roams my face. Dormant longing stirs inside me as I get lost in him. Guess some things will never change. Don DiPietro always captivated me in a way no other man ever has. The stubble on his chin and cheeks is thicker than he used to wear it, and his face is more tan, but otherwise, it’s as if time stood still.
“My god. It is you.” Keeping one arm around my waist, Cristian pushes the hood down off my head with the other before releasing my hair from its ponytail. Dark, messy waves cascade over my shoulders as I steel myself for what comes next.
“Make it quick.” I’m pleased my voice doesn’t tremble and my stupid leg doesn’t give out when I awkwardly kneel before him. “Do it now before I have time to be afraid.” Committing his face to my eternal memory, I close my eyes and relax. There’s a sense of peace in knowing I don’t have to run anymore. I’ll finally be reunited with my mom in a place where there’s no suffering, no pain, only joy, love, and light. I’m ready for that.
“Sloane, no.”
My eyes open, and I frown as he helps me to my feet.
“Fuck.” Tears fill his eyes. “I didn’t mean those horrid words I said that last day.” His fingers dive into my hair, clasping the back of my head. “I’m not going to kill you, Sloane. God, even saying that destroys me.” He winces as if in pain. “I could never hurt you. I’ve spent five years looking for you, just wanting to bring you home and protect you, but I couldn’t find you.” His voice breaks, and I barely resist the urge to tug at my ears, sure they must be deceiving me.
“You were looking for me?”
He nods. “I hadn’t stopped, but I thought…I thought you might be dead,” he whispers before pulling me into a hug.
I’m frozen in his arms, shaking and a bit dazed as I try to make sense of what he’s said. I’ve missed him so much, and the pain was worse because I thought he hated me. Knowing he didn’t mean it, that he’s been searching for me all this time, blows my mind.
“I was so angry that day, Sloane, and I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t even let you explain. I didn’t stop long enough to realize the woman I loved would never hurt me or my son. I—”
“Dad?”
We break apart at the young voice, and emotion builds at the back of my throat as I face the boy sheltered at his father’s back. “My little prince,” I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion as I stare at Elio.
Unlike his father, Elio is completely changed. His head reaches Cristian’s chest now, and he’s sporting the same dark hair, vibrant green eyes, and strong features as his father. No one looking at them would ever doubt they were father and son, despite Cristian being his uncle and adopted father. No longer a cute baby-faced little kid, Elio is a handsome young man in the making. I’m stunned speechless.
“Sloane?” He stays close to his dad as he looks at me with confusion.
“It’s me.” I clear my throat. “You’re so grown up, Elio.”
“I’m nearly ten now.” His chest puffs out proudly as he stares at me. “You look different.”
“I do. I didn’t expect you’d remember me.”
“I remember some things. You saved me from the cartel,” he softly says. “I used to have nightmares about it,” Elio explains, and my heart hurts for all he must have endured. “But at the end, you were always there, in the kiosk, hugging me and kissing me and telling me I was safe, that the police were coming, Daddy was coming, and you weren’t letting anyone take me.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Sir, we should get off the street.”
“John Angelo?” I’m only noticing the broad-shouldered older bodyguard now.
“It’s good to see you again, Sloane.” There’s no mistaking his welcoming smile.
I’m only alive because of him, of that I’m sure, but I don’t know if Cristian is aware he helped me, so I don’t throw myself at him and thank him like I want to, merely saying, “You too.”
“Will you come back to the penthouse?” Cristian asks.
“Why?” I cross my arms around my chest.
“To talk, maybe get something to eat. Please, Sloane.”
My eyes dart wildly around the place as I remember the men chasing me. There is no sign of them, but I don’t relax. They could’ve taken off when they spotted Cristian, but most likely, they’re hiding close by, watching our interaction. “I can’t go with you. It’s not safe. I won’t bring the cartel to your door again.”
Cristian frowns. “The cartel is no longer a problem. Pablo Fuentes is dead, as are all his men, and his brother is now in charge. He doesn’t give a fuck about his brother’s vendetta. He’s all about business. We brokered a peace deal with them, so you’re safe now, Sloane. You can stop running.”
“No.” I shake my head, instinctively moving in closer to Cristian. “They’re still after me. I was fleeing from two men when my car broke down a few blocks away. I had to abandon it because they were chasing me.”
Cristian whips out his gun at the same time John Angelo does. “Get Elio back to the car now!” he barks before tucking me against his side. John Angelo grabs Elio’s hand, and they start running.
“What are you doing?” I ask, protesting as Cristian pulls me with him, striding purposely back down the street after his son and bodyguard.
“What I should’ve done that day.” He peers into my face as he threads his fingers in mine. “Protecting you.”
“But—”
“No buts, Sloane. You’ve dealt with shit on your own for years, and it ends now. I don’t want to force you to come with me, but I’m not letting you go. Not ever if I have my way, or at least until we figure this out.”
“I don’t understand.” Surely, he can’t be saying what I think he’s saying?
“I know you’re hurt, but can you run? It’s too open here. We need to get off the street.”
“Nothing is making sense.”
“It will when we talk. Don’t fight me on this. Please.” His eyes blaze with steely determination. “No one should be after you, Sloane. But someone clearly is, and I’m not letting you out of my sight until I find the threat and eliminate it. I’m protecting you now the way I always should have. Now, am I carrying you, or are you running?”
