Page 11 of Married to the Mafia

But the proof was there, directly in front of her. Scowling and staring down at her, as handsome as ever and completely out of place in the rough, abandoned neighborhood. He hadn’t just sent someone to get her. He’d come himself.

Brandi swallowed hard and found herself smiling. “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly.

Mikey cursed. “Come on, get in. Let’s get the hell out of here. You can talk while I drive.” He looked past her, not waiting for a response. “Follow us out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mikey walked with her around the car, even opening the passenger door for her, and in the strange moment he spoke again, voice quieter. “Relax. You’re safe with me.”

four

Unwelcome Guest pt II

“Care to tell me what the hell you were doing out this way?” Mikey asked once the car was in motion. He was used to the strong-willed woman who only acquiesced as much as was required for her job and made no bones about giving as good as she got. The tear-stained, curled in on herself version of that woman sitting in his passenger seat unsettled something in him. Made him want to bleed someone.

Brandi sighed and let her purse slip to the floorboard between her legs as she shifted in the seat, her shoulder bumping against the window. “I guess I was pretending I could escape.”

Mikey frowned. “Work?”

Something like a laugh choked in her throat. “No. Work’s the best part of my day.” She fidgeted with her phone. “And I’m not just saying that because you sign my paychecks.”

As he neared an intersection, he debated for a second detouring to one of their safehouses. A perfectly good location for a conversation, especially one that was actually a conversation, but rationally he knew it was unnecessary. Dante wouldn’t approve revealing that location to Wesley Richardson’s daughter in this situation. So he continued in the direction he’d originally planned. “Uh-huh. Escape what, then?”

She was silent for several seconds. “I know you don’t really trust me,” she finally said, “and I don’t blame you. I probably wouldn’t even have hired me if I were you. So I don’t exactly expect you to believe me, or feel all that sympathetic, when I say my relationship with my father is shit.” She dragged in a breath, still staring out the window. “Everything that goes wrong in my life is his fault. Ever since I was little.” A strangled, bitter laugh escaped her. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the jerks who stole my car are working for him somehow, even. I don’t know how he’d have arranged that, but it would be about right, all things considered.”

Mikey scowled, finding himself fighting to keep his eyes on the road. “Why do you stay in the area if you want to get away from him so badly?”

“I tried moving away.” She shifted, sinking back in her seat. One arm rose to curl around her midsection. “You know my father’s an asshole. He’ll manipulate any situation to get what he wants, and when all you’ve ever known is a world where his manipulation ultimately wins, it doesn’t seem possible to run far enough. So I came back and did what he said.”

Wesley had never seemed all that capable in Mikey’s mind, but he supposed that was as much a matter of perspective as anything. “Now would be a good time to come clean if he really has asked you to spy on us.”

“Of course he has,” she said easily. “I agreed to apply for the job to appease him, though I honestly didn’t think I’d even get an interview. But just so we’re clear, I haven’t given him anything. He can yell at me and threaten me all he likes.”

Mikey cut another glance at her as he idled at a stoplight, catching a tremor in her jaw as she struggled with her emotions. He’s threatening his own daughter? Wesley was more of a bastard than Mikey had given him credit for. Family was supposed to be the thing that mattered, the thing a person treasured and defended.

Her head was still tipped to the side, her gaze still directed out the window. “I’m sorry. It’s been an unusually difficult twelve hours and I’m not feeling like myself.”

Mikey settled into traffic, noting Ryoma’s SUV behind them, and asked, “Is there a situation going on that you need help with?”

She didn’t answer right away. When she did, she didn’t say what he expected. “I’ll handle it. It’s my problem.”

Mikey ground his teeth. He disliked everything about that answer. “Brandi,” he said before he could catch himself, his gaze sliding to her again. Her eyes widened and her head snapped around to face him, finally. He stared into her brown eyes for a second or two longer than he should have before forcing his attention forward again.

“So you do know my name.”

He grunted. “Should I be taking you to the hospital?”

“What?”

He flicked her a pointed glance, not allowing it to linger. “You keep holding your ribs. You were doing it in the elevator this morning, too. Are you injured? The truth this time.”

A heavy silence settled in the cab of the car and Brandi shifted in her seat, straightening and pulling her arm away from her midsection. “No hospital,” she said. “There’s nothing they can do for a bruised rib, anyway.”

Familiar anger sparked inside him. “Your father—”

“No,” she said, almost too quickly. “Not this time. This was … someone else.”

Not this time. They had greatly underestimated the level of scum that was Wesley Richardson.

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