Page 52 of Rescued By the Mafia

She only smiled wider. “I do.”

He tugged her closer, biting back a groan. “You’re going to have to change. This outfit’s impractical. If the wind catches your skirt and you accidentally flash one of my men, I’ll have to kill him. Or at least shoot out his eyes.”

A soft trickle of laughter wafted up from her and Iris let her hands trail out to his sides. “I thought we were going to your mother’s for dinner tonight. It seemed appropriate to dress a little nicer.”

“We are, and she will be flattered.” Dante leaned down and ghosted his lips across hers. “We’re both going to have to change, and we have less than an hour.”

A small gasp escaped her. “Oh.”

Dante dropped a kiss to her nose, then took a full step back and motioned to the door. “Get that tight ass upstairs and get naked. I’m starving.”

To say she was scared would be an understatement. Iris knew she was asking a lot—of herself even more than of Dante—to insist on accompanying him. She knew she wasn’t some sort of Hollywood super sleuth or military-trained special ops type. She could barely fire a gun, for crying out loud.

But she’d meant what she had said to Dante after his brothers left. She’d meant every word.

More than that, to her mind, if she was going to be the wife of Dante “the Dragon” De Salvo, she needed to step up. She would never be intimidating enough to have her own street name by any means, but she could be someone who left an impression. She could face her own problems. The last thing she should be allowing herself to be was a sheltered wallflower.

Her gaze shifted out the window as the SUV came to a stop.

According to Dante, Mikey and Romeo were leading teams of identical size and comparable skill at the other two locations. They were planning a perfectly coordinated strike. There was no guarantee anything would be found at even one of the dilapidated, weather-worn buildings, let alone that Iris would be on the location where Megan and Parker were being held. There was also no guarantee she wouldn’t wind up face-to-face with Paul.

This time, Iris wouldn’t let that fear stop her.

“It’s time to move, Snapdragon,” Dante said. The soft click of his seatbelt releasing echoed his words.

She reached to her side and released her own, giving herself just a moment to close her eyes and draw up that mental image she’d conjured before. The image of strong, stubborn flame burning away the things that hurt and threatened her. She was a redhead, she was supposed to have her own flame—that was the stereotype—but not until she’d met Dante, and seen him wielding his, had she felt the first flicker of it.

Carlo pulled her door open for her, the picture of stoicism despite the bullet wound she knew his suit coat obscured. She’d questioned his joining them, but everyone insisted the bullet that had hit him had gone through without hitting anything vital. And it wasn’t like she knew him particularly well. She just felt guilty, because it was her fault he’d bled at all. Just like it was her fault Ernesto was on forced leave, recovering from a shot that wasn’t so ignorable.

Iris turned her attention to Dante as he stepped up to her side, her gaze snagging on the Kevlar strapped to his chest. She had a vest snug around her own torso, but the weight was surprisingly grounding. Seeing him wearing it and knowing he had good reason to felt different. It made her worry.

And from the thin set to his lips as he raked his gaze over her, she thought maybe he was enduring a similar feeling.

“We’re in position, Boss,” said a male voice Iris vaguely recognized.

Dante turned his stare outward and nodded once. “Hold for sixty seconds.” He reached out and pulled Iris’s hand into his own, tugging her up against him.

Iris laced her fingers with his, watching as the men around them drew weapons and angled to face the building. The building they had targeted backed up to the river, and the terrain was too rough to surround. So Dante’s men had it flanked on the other sides, leaving the eroded cliffside to itself.

Dante raised his free hand and snapped his wrist, two fingers extended in a pointing gesture. As one, the sea of men rolled forward. Dante kept Iris with him as he moved in synch with his men, several ahead and several falling in behind them.

Iris had a split-second to wonder if the building would explode when they broke the threshold, and if they were far enough back to possibly survive … and then the moment was past. A shaky breath escaped her when nothing burst into violent flame.

Carlo and three other men formed an angled wall in front of them as they entered the old house.

Iris found it hard to see over the protective wall of men, but nonetheless her head swiveled as she tried to look into the dimly lit spaces. The swarming men had flashlights to compensate, as the windows were almost all thoroughly covered, but Iris was dependent on her still-adjusting eyes and the sweeping beams of light.

She spotted a room that had likely once been a kitchen, and her gaze lingered for just a second on a staircase with old-fashioned spindles. She even identified a broken television as they passed through a mostly empty room.

She held tighter to Dante’s hand. It felt wrong to have to be going through this old, clearly neglected house this way. The peeling wallpaper and bubbled ceiling gave it a haunted ambiance that made her feel as if they’d stepped into a horror film and caused her overwhelmed mind to wonder what might have happened to the previous owners.

That was when she heard the scream.

sixteen

Growing

A muffled scream that sounded like pure desperation ripped through the hallway air, making Iris jump. It sounded like it came from the walls. She couldn’t see anything amiss, but the sound was undeniable. And closer than it should have been. Her gaze lingered on the banister of the stairway, practically overhead, before trailing down. The wall beneath the stairs looked solid, but something pinched in her chest. The kind of instinct she’d learned to heed for so long.

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