Theirs to Protect (Mafia Menage Trilogy 3)

I pressed one final kiss to her forehead before reluctantly releasing her. Her stalker was still too close, loitering in front of the nearby bookshop window while the three of us paused to discuss waffles.

“I’ll have the Oreo freakin’ party.” Joseph added his favorite waffle to Ashlyn’s order, oblivious to the threat. “You sure you don’t need help carrying these? If you’re getting your usual berries insanity, that’s going to be awkward to balance.”

“I can manage.” I dismissed him in a tone that was a bit too clipped, and his frown returned.

“Our girl is chilly.” I nodded in her direction to call Joseph’s attention to her needs instead of my tension. “You take her to the bus and get some shelter from the wind. I’ll just be a few minutes behind you.”

She shivered again, and his full focus riveted to her. He tucked her closer against his side, and she released a happy hum as she nestled in his warmth.

A fist squeezed my heart as I watched them walk away, following my orders. They looked almost painfully perfect together, as though they’d stepped out of a J. Crew ad. His navy wool coat was the masculine match to her softer pink style, and the wind-kissed blush on their defined cheekbones seemed cheery rather than miserably frigid. Joseph’s six-foot-three physique made Ashlyn’s slender shoulders appear even more delicate beneath the sheltering embrace of his strong arm.

They made a picture-perfect couple. Just the two of them.

Good. That’s a good thing. Joseph would always be able to keep her safe and happy. And sweetly oblivious to any darker shit I might have to do to protect them both.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my feet to carry me in the opposite direction, heading toward the waffle house as promised.

Chapter Two

Marco

It only took a handful of seconds to stride down half a block before tucking myself in a brick alcove. It provided a few feet of shelter between the sidewalk and the glass door to a small boutique, and the vantage point allowed a clear view of the cross street where I’d left Ashlyn and Joseph. In a few more heartbeats, I’d be able to confirm if the stalker chose to follow them.

I pulled out my phone and thumbed the screen, pretending to check a text; just a guy taking a quick respite from the chill wind. My fingers tightened around the cool metal case when the fucker appeared in my line of sight. The brim of his too-crisp baseball cap swiveled left as he checked the street I’d walked down. When he didn’t see me, he pulled the cap low and turned his attention forward again, trailing after Ashlyn.

It took less than two seconds for me to scan my mental map of the area and determine the best route to confront the fucker. When we’d first moved to Boston, I’d made sure to memorize the layout of Cambridge as well as our neighborhood in the South End. I knew every shadowy corner and the blind spots in CCTV feeds. During the blissfully peaceful months of our new life, my paranoia had begun to fade. Now, I was grateful that I’d taken such precautions.

I would cut around the block and intercept the bastard from a side street. There was an alley he’d have to pass if he stayed on his current path: the path that he’d stick to if he kept stalking my babygirl.

I shoved my phone back in my jacket pocket and forced my feet to carry me no faster than a jog. Flat-out sprinting to catch the bastard would attract too much attention, and I’d look strange enough jogging in jeans and a leather jacket rather than athletic attire. I took deep, even breaths as I closed the distance between us, falling back into the darker instincts I’d never wanted to revisit. But my body knew how to hunt without getting caught, and mindlessly surrendering to muscle memory would allow me to protect Ashlyn.

This is just another job. Threaten, question, and spill as little blood as possible.

I shoved down memories of Ashlyn’s delicate features drawn in fear as our enemies threatened her. If I lost myself to that red-hazed rage, I’d make a mistake. I’d put her at risk.

Even though I forced my feet to jog at a slower pace than I would’ve liked, I reached my destination in a little over sixty seconds. The fetid smell of rotting garbage and urine assailed my senses, but I shut off the part of my brain that recoiled at the stench.

No distractions. No emotions.

Ten seconds later, he passed the mouth of the alley. I grabbed his collar and hauled him into the shadows. The air whooshed out of his lungs when I slammed him back against the rough bricks, stifling his shocked shout.