The Woman in the Wrong Place (Grassi Framily)

See, she knew what I did.

But we hadn’t exactly discussed, either, what that might mean. In temporary or even permanent ways.

Mafia wives, girlfriends, and partners had a lot of weight on their shoulders. There was a lot of worry, a lot of uncertainty, a lot of knowing something was happening, but not being able to have all the details, so they never knew exactly how much they should worry.

There were also many times when they knew their men would have to lie to them or only give them half truths about a situation. It took a special kind of woman to be able to accept that from a man, to know it was not a sign of weakness in their relationship, but a strength most typical couples could never grasp.

It required a deep knowing of your partner, a trust that few would ever need to cultivate.

This would be the first test of all of that for us.

To see if Josie even wanted to live like that.

There was a distinctive sinking in my chest at the idea of her deciding she wasn’t built for this after all.

But there wasn’t time to talk it out or weigh everyone’s feelings about it.

I had to go.

She had to stay.

And that was the end of it.

Whether we liked that or not.

“Everything is gonna be fine,” I told her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I added, pressing another kiss to her face, then rushing out the door.

“Yo. You need this,” Mass called, holding out a gun toward me.

“Fuck. Right. Thank you.”

“She’ll be alright. She’s tough. Especially for a girl not raised around any of this.”

“I hope so,” I agreed, rushing off toward my car, and peeling out onto the main drag, making my way down to the marina where Famiglia stood on stilts out of the water.

Luca was waiting for me at the corner before the restaurant.

He caught my gaze, giving me a nod that somehow said “Let’s do this” and “Get your gun out” at the same time because we both reached for them in unison.

And, somehow, without ever having done anything like this together before, we both approached each side of the car. I tapped on the window glass, getting the guy’s attention.

While Luca ripped open the door and held the gun on the guy.

“You got the wrong guy!” he insisted, hands up, eyes wide.

“You don’t know who we are looking for, so it’s a little soon to say that, don’t you think?” Luca asked, reaching inside with his free hand to grab the front of the guy’s shirt, yanking him out of the car as I moved around the hood to block any escape.

“Well, you’re not looking for me,” the guy insisted.

It could have been him.

Josie’s description hadn’t been great.

He was just very… average. Forgettable. But that was exactly who someone would send on a mission because the boss wanted to make sure no one got made.

It was why I didn’t get sent on recon missions because of my hair. Or Massimo because of his eyes.

“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll figure that out later. Yo,” Luca called, nodding toward his car, making me rush forward to pop the trunk.

I had no idea what the plan was, but I figured Luca had more time to figure it out while I’d been saying goodbye to Josie and worrying about how she would handle the uncertainty that came with being involved with someone in my particular lifestyle.

It took the two of us to shove the guy in the trunk, and Luca had me sit in the backseat to prevent the guy from pushing it down and escaping. Apparently, he had the escape latch disengaged.

I guess we put people in our trunks a lot more than I realized.

“See that?” Luca asked, nodding toward the back of the man’s car.

And there was the license plate.

With the couple of letters we’d been on the lookout for.

Coincidence?

Probably not.

“Where are we going?” I asked as Luca put the car in drive and started away.

“The docks.”

“Really?” I asked, confused.

“It’s closed right now. We have… places,” Luca said, never wanting to say too much in a place like a car that was easy to bug. “And if shit goes wrong, easy clean-up.”

There was just one problem.

That took us almost an hour to figure out.

He hadn’t been parked at Famiglia to watch us.

He’d been there as a distraction.

He’d been bait.

We both registered it the moment the bastard’s face lit up at the sound of car doors outside the container we had him in.

He wasn’t smiling for long, though, because Luca was a bit more practiced at this than I was.

And before the dick could get out of his chair, Luca was aiming his arm out, pulling the trigger, and sending the bastard to an early grave.

“I don’t make it, you take care of my girl and kids,” Luca demanded, rolling his neck.