Page 58 of Protected By the Mafia

Her eyes widened as a man in a simple, faintly wrinkled suit entered the lobby and came to a dead stop. One of his hands lifted as if he were reaching for something, at the same time as his mouth opened to speak.

Her abductor swung his pistol around and pulled the trigger two times in quick succession. The first bullet went into the other man’s chest, the second into his throat. Blood spewed from the neck shot for a long second and bloomed rapidly across the front of his light gray button-up.

Felicity clapped her free hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, her eyes burning and her throat constricting. She couldn’t look away. She desperately wanted to look away. That was the man who was supposed to have come to get her, probably. And she couldn’t even remember the name Cristiano had texted her.

The man flicked his fading gaze to her before collapsing to the floor.

“Let’s go.”

“What the hell’s—” Dr. Laura’s voice was lost as Felicity was dragged forward, over the slumped and still-bleeding figure of the man, and out the door. Her own name was the last thing Felicity heard before the door swung shut, and Felicity found herself a strange mix of petrified and grateful. She was glad, at least, that Dr. Laura hadn’t also been shot.

Her abductor dragged her to the parking area, to an almost startlingly nice-looking Mercedes, and released her wrist in order to open the back passenger door. “Get the fuck in, buckle up, and don’t speak. I don’t wanna hear you, and you better not make a mess in this car, either.”

Felicity opened her mouth to acquiesce, realized her almost-mistake, and clamped her lips shut. She nodded again as she hurried to tuck herself inside. She definitely did not trust that he wouldn’t shut the door on her fingers or something. Her hands shook as she buckled herself in and she had to bite her lips again to hold back her sobs.

She wanted to cry over the idea of that man dying for no reason other than walking through the door at the wrong time, but she couldn’t. Not yet. She wanted to rage at being abducted by some guy probably affiliated with her goddamn half-brother, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

Her only job, right then, was to survive. To keep herself as intact as she possibly could.

Cristiano will come for me. Cristiano would come, she trusted that, and he would bring the wrath of Hell with him.

“Hey, Boss wants you.”

Cristiano looked over, arching a brow at the sight of Ryoma holding out his phone. His own phone was in his pocket, and he realized he may not have raised the volume since he’d left Dr. Laura’s office. Not that he was expecting a call so soon since he’d been called away to chase down some dumb-shit firebombing Ink Blot initiates. Punk brats who barely knew how to tie their fucking shoes, but they’d caused a hell of a ruckus.

Cristiano jerked a thumb at the boy they’d just caught up to, indicating for his friend to take over the impromptu interrogation while he took the call. Then he stepped slightly away and put the phone to his ear. “Looks like the bastards are using Molotovs to taunt us now,” he said into the phone.

On the other end of the line, Dante released a breath. “That’s irritating, but Romeo can handle it. He’s en-route. There’s…. Cris, I’m sorry to be calling about this.”

Cristiano’s nerves spiked. Dante wasn’t one to apologize, so when he actually did, it tended to be only after shit had hit the fan. His voice tightened. “What happened?”

“Someone we haven’t identified yet pulled at gun at Dr. Laura’s—”

Cristiano’s stomach dropped, bile rising up his throat and his head spinning.

“Felicity’s been kidnapped.”

The world tipped sideways. Cristiano shot out his free arm to catch himself against the wall of the alley he stood in front of. His mouth was dry, nightmarish memories flashing through his mind again.

His uncle, always a strong and proud man, holding him tight and sobbing.

One oversized, freshly dug grave.

His mother, telling him she’d only be an hour.

His father, reminding him how bad his mother was at being on time when she shopped.

How long had it been since he’d been able to remember the last things his parents had said to him? He’d thought those memories were lost.

He’d decided not to barge in this time. He’d decided texting her was acceptable, because they’d discussed the possibility of him being called away while she was in-session. And because she was no longer in hiding from his family, they’d agreed she would be fine if he arranged alternate transportation for her. So he hadn’t even stuck his head into the room before he’d left, he didn’t even know if she had been crying again or if she’d checked her phone before walking into that lobby.

Cristiano dragged in a hard breath, Dante’s voice in his ear.

“Cristiano, I need you to focus, cousin. I know this is hard—”

“When?”

Dante was silent a beat. “Depending on how long it took Dr. Laura to pull herself together, close to ten minutes ago.”

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