Page 33 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“Yes. I’m guessing by now, you know a lot of people want to speak with you,” he replies in a dark husky tone, my eyes widening. He can’t be talking about what I think he’s talking about.

No. No. No. I play dumb, crossing my fingers that it’s enough. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap back, working to unpeel his fingers from my arm, but he digs in deeper, baring his yellow stained teeth and a sigh.

“Listen, bitch. You can stop playing coy with me. You’ve got the files, and I want them. You’re coming with me.”

Wrenching my arm free, hysterical laughter free flows from my mouth. “Everyone can see you.”

“Oh.” His bushy eyebrow elevates as his hand moves quicker than lightning to his hip, the hard butt of a gun muzzle buried into the soft folds of my belly causing me to freeze.

“Do you want to take the risk and tell me what people can see?”

All I think about is the baby and its safety. “Please, don’t.” I ring out the desperate plea, my heart sinking to my feet.

He tilts his head, his eyes cold.“Then all you have to do is walk normally to the back door of the restaurant, and we’re going to sail right out of here to the Omerta files. You don’t have to get hurt. This can be a nice, easy process. Hell, I might even let you live,” he chuckles.

I comply, the noisy racket of my heart beating so loudly as he releases my wrist, walking me to the side exit near the bathrooms, but I know he has the gun aimed at my back as I can feel the poke of it as I stumble forward into the dead of the Chicago night.

Pressing my eyes shut, I will Ruslan to come looking for me. I wish I hadn’t made him mad now. I want to see my mother again. My friends. Even my old boss, who I hate. Even she’s better than this.

“Where—where to next?” I ask meekly, the still air of Chicago providing the backdrop of a full parking lot.

“Far right. The SUV. Look, I’ll beep to make it easy for you to see.” I look around the parking lot, hoping to see a face so I can escape, but it’s clear. Everyone is inside eating and being happy with the people they’re dining with. Me—I’m about to be kidnapped.Again.

Slowing my pace, shallow breaths move me forward as I think about what Bergin is going to do. He’s not going to let me go. He’s going to kill me, so I’m going to kill as much time as I can.

“What if I don’t have the files?” I say to him, stalling as best I can.

Bergin’s bone-chilling laugh rings out as we reach a few paces from his vehicle. I know once I’m inside it, I’m doomed. “If you don’t have the files. I thought it was only the Irish who had a fantastic sense of humor. Oh no, if you don’t have the files, I’ll line you up and drop you like a ten-pin bowling ball. Now speed up,” he barks in exasperation.

A light click and the sound of crunching underfoot gives me the courage to swing my head around. “Oh. I like ten-pin bowling too. Except it’s not going to be her who drops.”

Ruslan’s presence is a sheer relief as I watch him hold the gun to back of Bergin’s head, walking him forward.

“Now what you’re going to do, sonny boy, is get in your shiny SUV and go home. If you don’t, I’m going to end your life. Right here in this parking lot. You’re on my turf.”

“Ah, Ruslan. You always were a sneaky bastard,” he hauls off as Ruslan points to the restaurant, giving me my walking papers. There’s not a soul in sight, and I can’t believe it.

“Move, Bergin.” He knees Bergin in the back, a whooshing sound coming out of him as he slams his head against his SUV, opening the door and shoving him in. “Drive. And get the fuck out of here. You’re a dead man walking.”

Scurrying back to the safety of the restaurant, I can’t believe it. Ruslan just saved my life. He saved my life. Shit. I watch as Bergin drives off without fanfare, awed by Ruslan’s authoritative command. Once he’s done, he jogs back to me. I’m a trembling sobbing mess.

Ruslan wipes the tears with the back of his thumb. “Are you okay?”

Nodding at my savior, I sink into his embrace. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Trust me. Especially not at the hands of Jamie fucking Bergin. The piece of scummy shit.”

Maybe he does care about me. Maybe I can find a silver lining with Ruslan….

Chapter Eighteen - Ruslan

I didn’t want the driver to take us home. Not when I can visibly see how shaken up Fiona is. I refuse to make her an open target, and I’m not in total control as the driver. If I am—it’s on me to keep her safe. Once I watched Bergin’s tires screech, the dirty plume of smoke swirling behind its wheels as he fishtailed out of the restaurant parking lot, I stood in the car’s place ringing Andrei.

“We need Bergin gone. Hear me? Plate number 657QTR. Black Mercedes SUV,” I told him, my jaw was clenching because I missed the earlier sign.

“Say no more. What happened to Fiona?” Andrei asked.

“Bergin happened to Fiona. He tried to kidnap her. Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him, but I need one of the soldiers to. Keep it clean. I don’t want any more heat around the files if we can help it. Just exterminate the Irish rat. I’ve never been a fan of him anyway.”

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