Inked By The Mafia Man

Right now, it’s Lena and Jackson. They’re my family.

I’ll think about her strange reaction later.

I toss their guns into the hallway and then stand up, kicking one in the mouth and slamming the other in the side of the head.

“We’re going,” I growl, running over to Lena and touching her arm.

She stares at me, her eyes wide, her body trembling.

“I…..”

“Now, Lena,” I snap. “We’ll talk later.”

“Okay,” she gasps. “Just please don’t hurt me.”

I ignore the comment. What the hell is she talking about?

“Here.” I pull off my jacket and hand it to her. “Use it to protect yourself from the glass.”

I inch over to the window, taking out my Glock and aiming it at the men, my back to Lena. “You fellas stay right where you are.”

One of the men groans, blood spewing from his shattered nose. “Best to kill us, you Italian fuck. When Conor hears about this….”

I grind my teeth, willing myself to pull the trigger.

He’s right. There will be nobody to tell what happened here with the men dead.

But I’m not a murderer.

I’ve killed before, when there was no choice, but not like this.

Backing away, I climb through the window, then turn and grab onto Lena’s hand.

Her touch is electric, warm, and welcome. As she cradles Jackson to her chest, we run across the darkness.

A minute later, men are yelling and roaring, and cars are speeding across the fields.

But it’s too late.

We’re already in the getaway car.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Lena

“Stop the car,” I yell, finally finding my voice.

Everything has happened so fast.

Ever since the first gunshot in the hotel room – the one Luca fired, the bullet slamming into the guard’s knee – all I’ve been able to think about is keeping Jackson safe.

Running across the fields, jumping into Luca’s car, speeding down the winding roads, and finally out into the countryside away from the city, all I’ve been able to contemplate is Jackson somehow getting hurt.

A stray bullet, a misplaced punch.

But now it’s just Luca and me with the darkness all around us, his high beams cutting through the blackness. I cradle Jackson in my lap, holding him tightly, as though any second Luca’s going to snatch him away.

Luca and I haven’t spoken.

When he doesn’t answer, I risk a glance over at him.

He looked like a businessman the first time we met.

But now, in his dark clothes with his hair all messy from the mask, I can believe he’s a criminal.

Something deep in my belly twists as though my core is screaming at me that he can’t be a bad guy. I can’t think of him that way, not when he’s so tall and handsome and sending his protective signals, signals that tell me he’s going to keep me safe, keep our whole family safe…when we have one.

Or if he’s a bad guy, then he’s mine. He belongs to me.

But none of that is true.

I heard what he said in the warehouse.

“Did you hear me?” I snap. “Stop the car.”

“That’s not happening,” he says bluntly. “Accept it.”

“Stop the –.”

“They saw my face. I have to get you someplace safe so I can arrange things, very fucking important things. Lives are at stake here, Lena. I’m not stopping this car.”

He speaks in a blunt tone, his voice hard but not mean, not sadistic. It doesn’t sound like he’s taking me somewhere to hurt me as he claimed in the warehouse.

Hope dares to flutter in my chest.

“What are you going to do with me?” I whimper.

He growls out a sigh, glancing over at me. His hands squeeze the steering wheel tight, his knuckles the color of bone, tension etched in every part of him.

“That’s the second time you’ve looked at me like that,” he says.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re scared of me. Like you think I’m going to hurt you. You even said it back there. You asked me not to hurt you.”

Is he going to try and pull this crap and make me feel crazy, like I didn’t hear him say it?

“I was at the meeting,” I hiss. “With Conor. Where you told him –.”

He sighs. “Oh, right.”

“Yeah. So don’t pretend like you want the best for me.”

“None of that was true, Lena. I had to think of a convincing reason why I might want to buy you. My consigliere came up with the reasoning, and I thought it made sense. It did make sense. Conor agreed. But we underestimated how badly he wants you.”

I sit back, staring at him, my head hurting. My legs ache from the run across the fields.

“Are you telling the truth?”

He looks at me, his mouth tight, his eyes blazing with a thousand unsaid things. “I wanted to free you, Lena. I’d never hurt you. The tattoo, the bird – it means something to me. I wasn’t lying. I’m not lying.”

He turns back to the road, and we glide through the darkness for a time, saying nothing.