Driving the Mob (Steamy Standalone Instalove)

It takes everything I have not to punch the air in celebration, to let out a goddamn whoop of relief.

That means nobody is attached to her, nobody lurking in the background who mistakenly thinks he has as much of a claim on my woman as I do.

I sit back, shaking my head.

“That’s their fucking loss, then,” I snarl, unable to stop myself, even if I know it’s wrong, even if I know all the problems it could cause down the line.

I can’t let her sit there with the ridiculous belief that she’s somehow not worthy of male attention. No, not male attention… my attention.

“Huh?” she murmurs.

I could take the comment back now. We’re almost at the offices, turning into the short lane that leads to the underground parking lot. I could laugh away my remark and tell her that, as a family friend, I think she’s a lovely young lady or whatever.

I could keep it casual.

But I’ve withheld this raging inferno within me for long enough.

It may have only been a day, but it feels like a century.

“You’re beautiful, Molly,” I tell her firmly. “You’re passionate. You’re interesting. You’re sexy as fuck.”

We buck forward when somebody suddenly darts out in front of the car and Molly slams on the brakes, the seatbelt cutting into my chest, cutting into the moment.

“What the heck?” she murmurs, as the man just stands there, staring at us.

He’s a Latino man wearing a T-shirt with two sleeves of tattoos, and his golden tooth winks at us as a sickly smile spreads across his face.

I recognize him for the Cartel immediately. It’s in the way he stands, the way he smiles, the way he stares.

It’s easier to recognize a member of the underworld when you are one yourself.

“What should I do?” she says.

“Just wait,” I growl, watching him. “My security will be on him soon. And unless he’s got a nuke he can’t do shit while we’re in here. This car is damn-near indestructible.”

A stupider man would push the door open and charge out there, but I didn’t become one of the most powerful men on the east coast by taking foolish risks. It would be the easiest thing in the world for this idiot to bait me out and then for a sniper to take me out.

The man lifts his hand and drags his thumb across his throat, staring at the car.

“Amateur bullshit.” I chuckle grimly. “It’s supposed to scare us.”

His grin falters and he looks past the car, and I turn to see my security stalking across the street, their hands at their hips. They’ve parked in the middle of the road, cars blaring their horns loudly at their stopped cars.

The man ducks his head and runs down the street, turning and sprinting down an alleyway.

I shake my head as my hand curls into a tight, trembling fist, the rage almost forcing me from the car and after him myself. But I’m the leader of the pack, and if they somehow get their hands on me, they’ll be able to sweep into the city and spread their poison. As difficult as it is, I have to try and stay calm, even as hot fire flows through me at the thought of Juan sending one of his goons to threaten me when I’m with my woman.

Not that he knows she’s my woman.

I glance from the street to find Molly trembling, shaking as she grips the steering wheel in tight fists.

I reach forward and touch her shoulder, not even thinking about it. It just seems like the natural thing to do, as though I’ve comforted her a thousand times before. I can’t sit here and let her suffer alone, not when she’s going to give me a family one day, not when my chest tightens and pulses and hammers at the sight of her fear.

She makes a soft whimpering noise, biting her lip and then letting it go.

“I’m fine,” she says, her teeth clamped tightly. “Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. That’s all. I’m overreacting.”

“I’d die before I let anything happen to you,” I snarl.

Her eyes widen in shock. “But why?”

My cellphone blares from my pocket. I don’t want to answer it.

I want to answer her question.

But it’s the shrill ringtone I’ve assigned to Cillian’s emergency phone. He knows only to use this number if there’s a serious problem, and I can’t ignore it, no matter how badly I want to crush it into tiny fragments in my fist and elaborate to my woman instead.

I take it out and answer, forcing down a whelming ball of livid fury.

“Yes?” I snap.

“Boss, you need to get up here,” he says. “I’ve got a kid here who says the Cartel have moved into their neighborhood. Motherfuckers have been using kids as mules, hiding their faces to try and keep it quiet.”