Silent Vows: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (The Byrne Brothers Book 1)
Silent Vows: Chapter 23

Not aquamarine or turquoise—the flawless stone on my hand was a rich deep blue.

The exact shade of Conner’s eyes.

That way, you don’t forget who you belong to.

As I sat in his car an hour later, his words replayed in my mind, my eyes glued to the ring. It was no accident that the stone he’d chosen for me looked like it had been harvested from the same material as his striking irises.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

In some respects, the gesture felt personal. Intimate. Had a longtime boyfriend put such thought into a ring, I would have swooned at the romantic nature of his choice. A piece of him with me always. But that wasn’t our situation. Was there any chance he could actually have feelings for me, or was I just another acquisition, and the ring his brand?

I rubbed at the strange ache that rippled through my chest.

“How often?” His quiet voice was liquid chocolate laced with arsenic.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“How often does he lay his hands on you?”

Of course. I’d known this was coming when Keir had told me Conner was taking me home, but the ring had distracted me. An eight-carat gemstone did that to a girl.

I took in a slow, cleansing breath. “He never used to bother with me,” I explained, knowing I had to give him something. “After Mom’s death, things changed. It’s not all that bad. He just gets angry easily.”

Conner kept his eyes on the road, but his fury was evident by his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. “He do that shit to your mother?”

Again, that ache burned in my chest.

“If he did, I never witnessed it. I’ve wondered the same thing so many times, but I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure.”

“Your brother let him do that to you?”

My head whipped to the side, eyes wide. “No! Of course not. Sante has no idea. Don’t you dare blame him.”

Conner cut his eyes to me, a silent warning that he’d blame whoever he damn well wanted to. I huffed back in my seat and parted my lips in retort but never got the chance. The car suddenly lurched to the side, my upper body slamming against the door.

Conner barked out a murderous curse, clutching the wheel tightly to try to correct our trajectory.

“What was that?” I cried, trying to see what we’d hit.

“Face forward, Em. Head down,” he ordered. “Someone’s got a fucking death wish.” He growled the last part, eyes cutting to the rearview mirror.

Again, the car behind us swiped at our back end, sending Conner’s BMW fishtailing to the side. The Byrnes lived just outside the city in one of the few areas with trees and hilly, curving roads. A couple more miles, and we would be back on the interstate, but I wasn’t sure we’d make it that long.

An icy river of fear rushed beneath the surface of my skin. When a loud shot rang in my ears, my racing heart skipped a whole handful of beats.

Nothing happened for a second. It was enough time for confusion to settle in before the back of the car vibrated and bounced, warning of a flat tire.

“Motherfucker,” Conner spat, gripping the wheel of the suddenly unwieldy car. They’d shot out one of our tires. We’d been speeding to get away from our pursuers and were now on the verge of total chaos.

Memories of flying past cars and my mother’s frantic cries assaulted me. The sight of broken glass and pooling blood—metal bent and contorted as steam and smoke filled the air.

Terror wound tight with heartbreak to blur my vision and catapult my pulse to dangerous levels.

“Mama,” I cried. “No, Mama.”

An arm slammed against my chest right before my body jolted from side to side. Tires screeched in my ears, almost drowning out the stream of masculine curses.

My past and present blurred so thoroughly that I couldn’t make sense of any of it. When the car lurched to a stop, I was too disoriented to think. I just knew I had to save her.

“Mama, please don’t die.” I clawed at my seat belt, tears streaming down my cheeks and my breaths puffing in shallow, frantic bursts. “Hold on, Mama. I’m coming. I’m coming.” I couldn’t get the fucking seat belt off. My fingers flailed and shook, unable to figure out the release, adding to my panic.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t see or breathe, and I didn’t know what was happening.

“Emy, baby. Calm down.” Two large hands clasped either side of my face and forced me to turn. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. You’re here with me. I’ve got you.” Crystal clear blue eyes. Conner.

Not my mama.

My breathing slowed as I slipped back into reality. I was riding with Conner, and our car had been hit, but we were okay.

He wiped my cheeks with his rough thumbs, his eyes burning deep into mine. “I need you to calm down, Noemi. This isn’t over yet,” he said softly but urgently.

I tried to cut my eyes to the back of the car, but he kept my face directed at his.

“Eyes on me, baby. Now, I need you to get down on the floor and stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”

I nodded.

“Good girl,” he whispered before sliding one hand down to release my seat belt, then clicking open the glovebox to retrieve a black handgun. He gave a look at the floor, a silent command.

I slid down into the shadows.

Conner pulled back the slide on the gun, his hand going for the door handle.

A new flavor of fear suddenly clogged my throat. He was going out there to face them. To face the men who wanted us dead. What if they killed him? Why did that thought fill me with such dread? Was I simply scared of going back to my father, or was it more?

When I pictured Conner’s vibrant eyes turned dull and lifeless the way I’d seen my mother’s, my eyelids clamped shut, violently rejecting the image. I didn’t want to lose him. Even the thought tormented me.

I gasped and flinched when he flung open the door. He didn’t immediately go out. He waited for the round of shots being fired from behind us to cease. The second they paused, he launched upward. A series of his own blasts rang loud in the air around us.

I clamped my hands over my ears, another round of tears streaking down my cheeks. I didn’t even realize I’d closed my eyes again until silence coaxed me to open my scrunched lids.

I was alone.

My eyes widened as though that might help me see what was happening beyond the confines of my mental stronghold. I strained to hear over my pounding pulse, but no sounds met my ears until a car whizzed past. The distraction triggered another string of bullets.

Was that Conner shooting or our attacker? God, I hated not knowing what was happening.

Seconds later, I heard a series of thuds along with guttural curses—a fight.

Conner must be grappling with someone.

Was there more than one man after us? What if he was outnumbered? I chewed relentlessly at my lip, overwhelmed with helplessness.

When a single shot rang out, followed by deafening silence, I had to take a peek. Slinking into the driver’s seat, I did my best to stay hidden while easing myself closer to the still-open door. Once I was in a position to dart out if necessary, I peeked up and around to gauge the situation.

Conner stood with a gun in hand outstretched. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, eyes cast to his left while his gun remained pointed at what I assumed was someone on the ground.

I gingerly placed a foot on the ground and stood to peer over the car’s roof. Then a cascade of events happened in a flash.

Noting my appearance, Conner whipped his head in my direction just as a gunshot pinged off the metal roof inches from my face. I dropped to the ground but managed to catch sight of a man running away from the scene.

“Jesus Christ,” Conner roared, shooting a series of rounds into the distance before rushing to my side. “Did he get you? Are you hurt?” His eyes scoured my body.

I shook my head. “It didn’t get me. Are they still out there?”

Squatting beside me, Conner dropped his head back on a long inhale. “Not exactly. One’s dead, and the other ran.”

“Do you know who they were or what they wanted?”

When our gazes collided this time, wrathful vengeance was staring back at me.

“Albanians.” The word was spat with noxious disdain. I wasn’t sure of their past, but one thing was clear. Conner hated them. “Get back in the car. I’ll put on the spare and get you home.”

I did as he instructed.

While I waited for him to change the tire, the car filled with a suffocating uncertainty that bled to awkwardness. My emotions were a jumbled mess. No matter how hard I tried not to think about it, my mind kept returning to Conner’s hands on my face, his eyes inches from mine, and his words a balm to my aching heart. He’d been so incredibly sweet.

Shh, baby. It’s okay … I’ve got you.

His words played on an endless loop in my head. I’d been totally hysterical. It made perfect sense that he needed to calm me down before we ended up shot, but my heart wanted to read into his actions. I wanted him to care.

I could only imagine what he thought of me now that he’d seen me completely lose my shit. I’d been a total basket case.

Sighing, I rested my elbow on the door and placed my hand over my eyes, praying the day would soon be over.

By the time Conner slid into the driver’s seat, his cobalt eyes had completely iced over. Whatever the nature of his volatile thoughts, I wasn’t going to interrupt. We were both silent for the rest of the trip.

For the first time in six months, I was relieved to arrive home. Conner walked me to the door. I expected him to leave once Umberto answered, but he asked for my father and instructed me to go upstairs. I didn’t have the fortitude or desire to argue. However, once I reached my room, I realized there was more than one reason Conner might have wanted an audience with my father. I’d assumed he meant to discuss our near-death experience and had forgotten about what we’d been discussing minutes before it happened.

Would Conner confront my father about hurting me?

An overwhelming surge of panic washed over me, and not for my own safety. For the second time in so many hours, I was worried about Conner.