Page 49 of Mafia Baby

“Thanks a lot,” I whisper to the baby in my belly, but then I grin. It’s always like the baby, and I are sharing a little secret. This communication with the silent partner who shares my body is very comforting. I realize I will miss it when the baby is born.

It’s been increasingly difficult not to tell Dom about the baby. I’m starting to show a little, but Dom hasn’t said anything.

He did comment on one of our first nights together that he really liked my new curves as he was squeezing my bottom with an appreciative hand. I almost blurted out the reason that I had developed them, but managed to hold my tongue.

It would be very bad for Dom to be distracted by the baby right now, and I knew that he would force me to stay home from these “missions” if he found out. I don’t want him to be alone as he tries to hunt down The Cobra, and I am heartily tired of being left out of every important thing by everyone in my life.

I refuse to be shuffled out of the way anymore. My family has done that to me for years and it’s never stopped hurting. Each time is like a new wound. I’m tired of it, and I won’t let Dom’s and my relationship end up working the way my relationship with my family works.

“Gin and tonic,” I tell the bartender. I won’t drink it, but it looks really strange to be here at the casino without drinking, and Dom and I need to fit right in.

I hike myself up onto a barstool with a little jingle of the beads on my dress, and start snacking on the bar nuts in the bowl next to me. Bless this casino for being so old-fashioned that there are still bar snacks sitting out. I presume that the old Italian men who frequent this place cannot imagine coming to a place without bar snacks and the baby and I are grateful for their old-fashioned ways in this moment.

Suddenly, I see a flash of green near the exit that is tucked away by the bathrooms.

I narrow my gaze, and I see that the door has opened and closed, seemingly all on its own. The entrance to the men’s restroom faces away from the bar and I suddenly just know that the person who came inside went in the restroom.

I glance over at Dom, but he doesn’t catch my eye. I try to discretely get his attention a couple of times as I move through the crowd, but he still doesn’t see me. I turn away and decide I’m on my own.

I just need to get more information about our mystery man so that Dom can sneak up on him and take him down. Maybe he will be at the drug drop-off, but we both don’t think so.

Seeing the person here and finding out what kind of car he drives, or where he is living would be a huge help.

I drift over toward the bathrooms and take a seat in some lumpy old chairs that are across the way. I can see the bathroom door from the corner of my eye. Suddenly, a man dressed in a black suit scurries out of the bathroom and vanishes out the door behind me. Its startles me a little and he’s gone too fast for me to even notice much about him.

I decide I can’t afford not to pay more attention and I turn myself a little so that I can see the bathroom exit more clearly.

I’m rewarded when the man in the green mask makes an appearance, edging out of the bathroom and slipping quietly out the door onto the street. I look around for Dom, but I don’t see him. I decide it’s all up to me and I rise to my feet and go outside after the man.

Why a green opera mask? I wonder to myself as I walk along the street, sticking close to the wall and following the mystery man in front of me. He’s wearing a very expensive suit and it hugs his body like it was custom made for him.

A rich man, dabbling in the goings-ons and dealings of his business at such a personal level seems very odd to me. Most rich, dangerous men have other men, like Dom, to do their dirty work for them. It doesn’t all add up, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need to try and figure out where The Cobra is going.

I don’t think he’s on to me. The one time he turns back to look my way, I pause and rummage in my purse like I’m looking for something. I wait until he starts walking again to look up and track him with my eyes. He goes around a corner, and I hustle to keep up with him. I can’t lose him now!

As I round the corner, his hand claps over my mouth and I’m yanked against his lean, firm body. I try to scream, but the hand over my mouth tightens painfully. I struggle, trying to kick at his shins or wrench free, to no avail.

“A spy, are you?” the voice says, the same strange accent hitting my ears. It’s almost like the person is trying to disguise their real voice. Something about the sound of his words rings a bell with me, but I can’t possibly know this dangerous criminal.

“Come on, little spy,” he says in my ear, dragging me with him. “I have a place where you can stay that will keep you out of my way.”

I scream again, but the sound is mostly stifled by his hand. He drags me with him as he moves quickly toward a large, black SUV parked on the side of the street in the shadow of a building.

I dig my heels into the pavement, but he’s stronger than me, and my efforts are futile.

The Cobra drags me with him into the backseat of the vehicle, and then tells the man in the front seat to drive. He keeps me cradled against his body as he rummages in the seat pocket in front of him.

He pulls out some zip ties and wrestles with me to get my arms behind me. I lean forward, then jerk my head back abruptly. I hear a loud crunch as my head contacts his face. I notice the fancy, green opera mask on the floor of the vehicle, but I don’t have time to look behind me to see The Cobra’s face. I can’t waste this chance.

“Mother…!” he curses as I get one of my arms free and lunge for the front seat. My hands claw at the wheel as the driver curses and throws his elbow at me, trying to get me away from him.

The SUV swerves wildly across the road, just missing an oncoming car.

“For fuck’s sake!” The Cobra shouts, snatching my hands again, wrenching one of my wrists up so high that I cry out and stop struggling. It feels like he’s going to snap my arm in half. I wiggle, trying to alleviate the nauseating pain that he’s causing me, suddenly realizing that I could have hurt the baby by causing the car to crash.

I finally hold still, panting and queasy with pain, waiting to see what my kidnappers will do next.

“Feisty bitch,” the driver comments drily, navigating a turn and taking the car onto the freeway.

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