Page 49 of Mated into the Mob

“Your dad will understand the first trimester is exhausting.” I took one look at my mate’s expression. “Tony, you have told him, haven’t you?”

He avoided my gaze and slid off the couch, padding into the bathroom. Standing under the shower, still wearing his clothes, he brushed his teeth and staggered out, toothpaste foam around his mouth.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I’m not that far along.”

Now I understood why this dinner had to go ahead, so Tony could announce his pregnancy.

I’d booked a table at a restaurant where we could sit outside on the terrace and each table was secluded from passersby and other diners. Themaître d’greeted us—I was a semi-regular customer or had been before I met Tony when I’d wined and dined clients—and led us to the table. Tony’s folks were already there, their hands clasped.

Tony’s dad, Evan, stared at me, his eyes narrowed. Both my wolf and I picked up a change in his scent, sparked by tension. Meeting your new son-in-law was a potentially prickly situation, so I wasn’t bothered by his wariness.

After Tony did the introductions, I asked his parents questions about their jobs and what Tony was like growing up. I could have pushed a little and mentioned Antonio, but Tony had forbidden me, saying any mention of his father caused his dad stress.

“We have news!” Tony was bouncing on his chair, his earlier exhaustion forgotten, and he took my hand.

Evan and Derek shared a glance, and his dad’s lips set in a straight line. It was an odd reaction when your child was smiling and with a guy he obviously cared about. But my phone beeped,and I apologized, squeezed Tony’s hand saying it was lousy timing, and excused myself.

Emilio was babbling about Foley and the Nightfall pack, he and his men had tapped their phones. But he also told me a retrieval mission had been unsuccessful. Shit, this was our bread and butter. We had a reputation of getting in and out with little fuss.

I’d have to leave the dinner early. Not a good first impression for the in-laws. But when I returned to the table, Tony was on his feet begging his parents to stay while they pushed past me. Evan hissed at me to stay away from his son, before they disappeared between the potted plants.

“What happened?” Fuck, they were insulted ‘cause they thought I’d disrespected them.

Tony was mopping up his tears with a handful of napkins. “Dad said he’d heard you weren’t a good guy and I should stay away from you.” He blew his nose. I’d have to leave an extra-large tip.

Evan may have had some idea who his husband worked for, though the Antonio/Anthony names suggested Tony’s late father kept the two parts of his life quite separate.

“I didn’t wait for you and told them about the baby.”

That brought on more tears, and we left. In the car, Tony let on that his father told him getting pregnant was a huge mistake. “He said I wasn’t responsible like he’d been, and that you’d toss me aside after the little one was born.”

I drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on my mate, wishing I didn’t have a crisis on my hands.

“Where are we going?” Tony looked out the window at the shop windows lit up and passersby hurrying along the sidewalks.

“I’m taking you home, but I have a job to do.” I could have had my guys take Tony home, but after the disastrous meetingwith his dad, I refused to hand him over. Even me leaving him at home was meh, but I had to finish this job.

His head snapped to the side. “Like what?” There was a tremor in his voice.

“It’s something only I can do.” That wasn’t strictly true. My men could have done it, but they’d fucked up and lost the scent.

“Don’t lie, babe. I need you to be straight with me.”

“Fine.” I summarized that I had to retrieve a valuable piece of art and return it to its owner.

“I’ll come too.”

I sighed. This wasn’t a group activity. I’d start outside our client’s home. But tracking the thief’s scent could lead me to bars or back alleys, the forest or a lonely stretch of highway. And I’d be in my fur at least part of the time.

“It’s not a good idea.” I’d be leaving the bodyguards behind.

“Flint!” My mate had that tone. The one he’d used when we met. The feisty one. “I’m not a wilting wallflower.” That was one of his favorite responses when I went into full-on alpha-protection mode. “You mated me, you wanted me in your life, and after a bumpy ride, I agreed. You can’t shut me out by saying it’s too much because I’m human and pregnant.”

“Okay, okay. The security guys will be in the car with you.” I didn’t want a procession of three cars following me.

“I can get behind the wheel.”

“No!” He growled at me, and I backed off. “You can drive, right?” Fuck, how had I never asked my mate that before?

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