Page 2 of Protected By the Mafia

“Since when do up-and-coming standard gangs target mafia territory?” Dante dragged in an audible breath. “Deal with the family ties as they come up, but I want those fucking gangsters cut down, Cris. Find out who’s running that operation and burn it to the goddamn ground. Call in whatever extra backup you might need. I don’t want them ruining my wedding.”

Cristiano couldn’t help but smile at that. He eased to a stop in the private parking garage, cut the engine, and leaned back in his seat. “Whatever happens, cousin, I’d never let your big day go bad. Say hi to Iris for me.”

It was hard to imagine his big, scary, technically younger cousin finally tying himself down, but the day was fast approaching. There was little over a month left before Dante “the Dragon” De Salvo said ‘I do’ in front of both kinds of family, business associates, and pseudo-friends. Cristiano might not have believed such a day would ever come if he hadn’t seen the couple together for himself. But Iris was perfect for him. More importantly, Dante actually seemed happy, like he had something moving him forward beyond the fleeting joy of his own power.

Cristiano gave himself a shake, unpaired his phone, and climbed from the car. He needed to go up to his penthouse and wash off the stink of his latest visit to Tristán. Then it was time to get a little personal.

“Hey, Felicity, can you cover my register for a few minutes?” Her coworker waved her phone. “I’ve gotta make a call.”

Felicity Garcia stared up at the other female, irritation and a stupid layer of shock surging through her. Her mouth opened to respond, but no words immediately followed.

Her colleague took this as an agreement, apparently, and said, “Thanks so much!”

Felicity watched the woman whose name she barely knew flounce off toward the nearest side exit. Dammit. Her gaze dropped to the colorful sports drink in her hand and the deli sandwich she’d only just sat down to eat. “I could just not…” She sighed. She couldn’t be that irresponsible, even if she was entitled to her own lunch break and even if it meant that she would be going another whole shift without eating.

She really hated her job. Almost as much as she hated the majority of the people she worked with.

Still, she pulled herself together, tossed the sandwich she had no way to store into the nearest garbage and shoved her drink into her purse. She had just over twenty minutes before she was due back at her own register, at which point her colleague was out of luck, but she’d do the right thing and cover for the woman until then. Because apparently whatever call the woman had to take couldn’t wait until her own scheduled break.

Barely a minute passed before she had her first customer, a perfectly polite older lady with just a handful of groceries. Behind that woman came a man in dirty work clothes, clearly on his own lunch break. And so the traffic began, until Felicity was forced to shut the lane down when it came time to switch back to her own station.

“Come on, lady, I’ve been waitin’ forever!” some teenager who probably should’ve been in school snapped at her.

Felicity scooped her purse up from behind the register. “I’m sorry. I have to open another lane. You’re welcome to follow me over.”

He did, unfortunately, and angrily shoved his ten or so items at her as if moving his cart three aisles over had been a major ordeal. He cursed her out under his breath, flicked his payment in her direction, and rudely shoved his emptied shopping cart out into the walkway at the other end of the check lane when he started bagging. Clearly done with it.

Felicity scrunched up her face, turning her attention from the payment she’d been calculating, and said, “Sir, you can’t just leave you cart like that. It’s a problem for the other customers.” Not to mention the employees who have to chase it down.

The boy who wasn’t even old enough to qualify as a manchild stopped and looked over at her again, dark brow pinched in a glare. “The fuck did you say, bitch? Why should I give a shit?”

Felicity sucked in a breath, appalled at his attitude. Suddenly a large, muscled arm reached out from somewhere on the other side of her peripheral vision and the hand hooked into the back of the boy’s shirt, hauling him entirely off his feet. The boy let out a startled yelp and Felicity’s head snapped around, her eyes widening at the sight of the figure the arm was attached to.

That was a man. Her mouth watered and she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her lips between her teeth as her gaze ran up, and up, and up some more. He was huge. Tall, broad, and as powerful as he was sexy. He had to be a full foot taller than her, at least. And while she was short at only five-foot-five, that still made him tall. Tall, dark haired, blue eyed, strong jawed, and so handsome. His face had a maturity to it that told her he had to be several years older, too. In her mind, that only added to his appeal. She almost forgot he was also holding one of her customers up by the back of his shirt.

“Did no one ever teach you manners, boy?” the man said, dark blue eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. “You don’t talk to women that way, and you don’t treat the people who work in the service industry that way.” He set the teen on his feet and planted his large hand on the boy’s head. “Apologize.”

Felicity could hardly hear anything over the thunder of her heartbeat. She was sure her face had gone red.

The brat’s face was also red, but he dragged his eyes to hers and swallowed visibly. “U-uh, I’m sorry … ma’am.”

Ma’am. Felicity pulled in a breath. She was torn about that word, but what mattered in this moment needed to be the effort, not the detail. “Promise me you’ll learn from this, and I’ll accept your apology.”

He tried to nod his head, but the hand still flattening his unnaturally spiked hair inhibited more than the dipping of his chin. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yes! I will. I promise.”

Well. She believed he’d learn something, at least.

The hand released his head as if the man behind him had read her mind. “Now go get that cart and be sure you put it away.”

Felicity was mildly impressed that the boy remembered to collect his groceries as he ran off.

“Felicity.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name in the sexy stranger’s voice, her attention swinging forward again to find him closer, standing on the other side of her register. Only then did she also notice a handful of groceries she still needed to ring up. Logically, they had to be his. She tried to pull herself together, and then he went and offered her a smile.

“It’s a pretty name,” he said. He didn’t add the rest of the cliché, or drop his gaze below her face, but the light in his eyes told her he was thinking it.

That realization only flustered her more. She’d never hated having to wear a nametag more in her life. Why, oh why, couldn’t she have met this gorgeous man in a more socially appropriate setting? “Thank you,” she said. She went to reach for the nearest item on the conveyor belt and finally processed that she still had money in her hand. She’d never given the teen his change. Her gaze dropped to the three single dollar bills. Shit.

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