Off the Record (With Me in Seattle Mafia 3)

If that’s the case, we need to have a serious conversation because it couldn’t be further from the truth.

I’ve tried to tell her for years that I want her. Even when she was married to that no-good piece of trash. And I’m not proud of that. Being married is a commitment that I believe in. I don’t poach on someone else’s territory.

But she doesn’t belong to him anymore. She never really did, given she didn’t know who she was marrying.

She’s mine.

And I’m going to do everything I can to remind her of that.

“Don’t go,” she whispers.

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away, sweetheart.”

She falls back to sleep, more peacefully now, and I kiss her forehead and then let sleep settle around me, too. I’m exhausted.

It feels like I just closed my eyes when the house alarms start blaring shrilly through the house.

“Rafe!” Annika yells, already leaping from the bed. “Rafe!”

“I’m right here,” I reply as I climb out of the other side of the bed.

She whirls around and frowns. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“Seriously?” I shake my head. The alarm continues going crazy. “Now isn’t the time for this conversation. Do you have a weapon?”

“I have a baseball bat.”

I swear under my breath. “We have some work to do. Stay here. Lock the door. I’m going to take care of this.”

“Be careful,” she hisses before I shut the door behind me. I don’t have shoes or a shirt. No weapon on me.

Because I’m an idiot.

Or a man in love, and Annika needed me.

Either way, it’s no excuse.

I rush down the hall to the guest room, and when I see that no one’s in there, I grab my pistol and shove my feet into my shoes.

Then, I make my way downstairs.

If it’s a random robbery, they should have been scared off by the alarm and long gone by now. If it’s a mistake in the system, we can fix that.

But if it’s tied to the other shit happening, someone might be inside the house.

They won’t leave alive.

Suddenly, the alarm quiets, leaving me in deafening silence. I can hear Annika talking, probably to the security company.

I hear shuffling coming from Richard’s old office.

“Motherfucker,” I whisper and quietly make my way down the hall, peeking around the doorjamb.

I move fast, and with one strike, I have the asshole on the floor. He lashes out, a taser in his hand, but he’s no match for my strength. I turn the taser on him, and while his body convulses from the jolt, I haul him into a nearby chair and press my nose to his.

“I’m going to end you, asshole.”

“Rafe?”

“Shit.” I don’t know if anyone else is in the house.

“Do we need the police?”

“No.”

Annika tells the operator that everything is fine and hangs up.

“Get in here,” I command and clench my jaw when her eyes widen at the sight of the man in the chair. “I need rope.”

“Uh, will my robe sash do?”

“Sure.” She passes it to me, and I get the jerk’s hands tied behind his back just as he starts to come to. “I’m calling Carmine and Shane. Close and lock that door. I don’t know if anyone else is here, and I won’t leave you.”

She does as I ask as I call my brothers.

“I could sue you,” the jerk in the chair says. I punch him in the face.

“I suggest you shut the fuck up.”

“Sue me?” Annika demands. “Sue me? For what? I didn’t invite you here. You’re trespassing, you moron. Just what the fuck do you think you’re going to sue me for?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps his face lowered toward the floor.

“Carmine and Shane will scout the outside and clear the rest of the house. They’re on their way.”

“It’s four in the morning,” she says with a frown.

“Yeah, and we have an intruder.”

Annika flips on some lights and sits on the leather couch, clenching her robe around her. Less than ten minutes later, there’s a knock.

“All clear,” Shane calls out. I hurry over and open the door to find Shane, Ivie, Carmine, and Nadia all standing on the other side.

“It’s a party,” I say dryly. “And this guy crashed it.”

Nadia walks over to him, takes his chin in her fingers, and raises his face to hers. “Hello there, fucker. How does it feel to know you’re about to die?”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

“Now, see, I don’t like that word.” Nadia purses her lips in a pout and then backhands him with the butt of her weapon.

“That’s MacDonald,” Ivie says, narrowing her eyes. “This is the idiot who left the envelope yesterday.”

“Back for more?” I ask him, but Annika approaches and looks into MacDonald’s face.

“You were the waiter,” she says, shaking her head. “You were the waiter at the wedding who gave me the first envelope.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t flinch. Gives no reaction at all.