Page 64 of Mafia Baby

“I can’t explain everything right now,” I say. “Where are you?”

“We’re not that far away now. Where are you?”

“I’m in Dom’s car, about ten minutes down the road. He managed to convince my brother to let me go by offering himself up for execution.”

I hear a lot of Italian curses and I smile in spite of myself. My uncles love to curse like this, but over things like spilled whiskey or a burger that someone dropped on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Vince finally asks me.

“Umm,” I say. “Not really. I have a broken arm and some broken ribs. I think the baby is okay, thank God.”

“Baby?” Vince echoes, sounding stupefied. “Dom’s baby?”

I nod, then realize that’s stupid since he can’t see me. I must be getting more loopy than I thought. “Yes.”

I hear a muffled huzzah from the other men in the car and I grin. Italian families love babies.

It’s really nice to feel like someone is as happy about this baby as Dom and I are. I know my family will never approve. I probably won’t see any of them ever again, but since they would probably want nothing to do with me now that I’m pregnant, it’s just as well.

“I’m sending you a pinned location,” Vince says to me. “Meet us there. One of my guys has some medical training and we have supplies with us. Let’s see if we can get you patched up for the time being while we make a plan.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker. I load the pinned address and tell the phone to take me there. It’s not far away. “Thank you,” I tell Vince sincerely. “Please hurry.”

“We’re already speeding so fast I’m getting car sick,” he quips. “We won’t be long.”

I end the call and sit for a moment, trying to find the energy to put the SUV in drive and head to the location Vince sent to me.

I feel lightheaded and queasy, but the muddled feeling in my brain has calmed some, at least. I’m going to have to try and pace myself, or I’m going to end up passing out and then I won’t be any good to Dom.

As I turn the car around and head back in the direction I just came from, I worry about Dom. I’m not sure what my brother is truly capable of.

Is he planning to torture Dom first before he kills him? While I don’t want Dom to have to endure that, it would buy us some more time to save him.

At least I know what the interior of the warehouse is like so that Vince and his men don’t have to go in totally blind.

Other than the handful of men who came into the room when Dom offered his deal to Will, I’m not sure how many other people are actually there with him. What if there is a huge army of men hiding in that nasty old building.

I tap the fingers of my uninjured arm on the steering wheel impatiently. Time is ticking and there’s so little that I can do.

I suppose I can pray, so I do that much. I’m not a particularly religious person, but I know the words that you’re supposed to say. After all, my family did force me to go to Catholic church throughout my childhood.

I’m open to literally anything that might help save Dom’s life, and supernatural help is as welcome as the assistance of Vince and his men.

I pull into the parking lot at the address that Vince sent to me. It seems to be the parking area attached to a seedy old strip mall. I eyeball some sad, frayed-looking people walking between the buildings, but they don’t even register that I’ve parked a brand-new, expensive car in the lot.

There probably won’t be any trouble from the locals if the lack of interest in my presence is any indication.

I continue to drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I wait, trying to think up a plan to help Dom, and then dismissing each idea as a bad one. I’m starting to think about going back by myself to try and help him when another sleek, black SUV pulls into the lot. I watch it from the corner of my eye at first, unwilling to make eye contact if the car doesn’t belong to Vince.

The car comes to a stop, and Vince climbs out onto the cracked pavement. I nearly sag with relief. I roll down the window and wait for him to approach me.

“Okay, give me the details,” he says.

I relay everything that I know about the warehouse and how many people might be there helping my brother. I tell Vince about the deal that Dom offered him as well.

I also share the meager amount of information that we collected about my brother’s contacts in Atlantic City.

“That’s helpful, thanks,” Vince says. He eyes me for a moment. “You don’t look so good. Hang on a moment.” He walks away and gestures to someone in the car. Another man in a slick, black suit gets out of the car holding a small medical bag. He walks up to the driver’s side window.

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