Page 135 of Mob Bride

“Decide or I blow up more shite, Matteo. I have bodies to dump. Either we make them disappear or make you do it. I want to get back to my wife.”

“I’ll do you one better.”

“I doubt it.”

“I found Enrique’s new lab.”

I glance around the group again. If Matteo’s telling the truth, we could make billions between the product we take and what Enrique’s competitors would pay for us to shut it down.

“Let’s be clear. This doesn’t make us good, Matteo. It makes me not blow anything else up. I won’t forgive or forget what you did. We’ve never liked each other, but I was never the shite stirrer. You went after my woman before you could know who she would become, but you could have called it off. You didn’t. Fuck me over on this deal, and you’re going to explain a lot more to Salvatore than selling a lab.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” There’s a long pause before I do what I know my mom would expect. “Sláinte to you and Maria. Pass all of our best wishes to her. We wish her a healthy and safe pregnancy and delivery.”

“Thank you.”

“For your baby—” I look at the guys. We know what the right thing to do is, even if it might kill us. They speak with me. “May God grant you always a sunbeam to warm you, a moonbeam to charm you, a sheltering angel, so nothing can harm you. Laughter to cheer you, faithful friends near you. And whenever you pray, Heaven to hear you.”

“Th—th—grazie.” Thank you. They switch between English and Italian like we do English and Irish.

“Last chance for Angela.”

“Do what you want with her.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Carrie

I want to pace.

Mom and Ally already had the bullet removed, and Uncle Tate knocked out with pain meds by the time the rest of us got to Aunt Siobhan and Uncle Tate’s house—I’m already thinking of them that way. I always claimed my mom was a bit of a prepper with the souped-up first aid kit in her car and the doctor’s satchel that weighs like ten pounds. Now I understand why. We walked in the house, and she had a miniature surgical theatre set up in the dining room.

We’ve been here for three hours, and no one’s heard from the guys. We’ve eaten and watched a movie. We’ve taken turns sitting with Aunt Siobhan since she won’t leave Uncle Tate’s side. My heart aches for her. Her husband’s unconscious after being shot, and she doesn’t know if her son’s okay.

I understand any sons Shane and I might have are so far down the line of succession I’ll never know—not truly—how she feels knowing her son’s responsible for an organization with thousands of people who depend upon him. I don’t yet understand what Aunt Saoirse and Mam—Breda—it doesn’t feelright to call her Mom in font of mine—experience as mothers either, but I understand how we all feel as wives.

Nothing I’ve done up to this point in my life prepared me for this. I’m holding my shit together, but only because I don’t want anyone to think me weak or to draw attention to myself. I found out Ally’s pregnant, too. The two top men in the organization have pregnant wives, and they’re possibly dead to protect me. Guilt chokes me every time I think that.

Mam—even easier to think than I imagined—guessed my thoughts an hour ago and did her best to reassure me I’m wrong. But I’m not. I?—

“Where’s my wife?”

I don’t know whose voice is whose because all five blend.

“Where’s my mom?” Cormac.

The man’s funnier than you’d guess. I discovered that at Shane’s place while we waited to go to Sean’s house.

Fortunately, Aunt Siobhan and Uncle Tate’s house has a massive foyer. Probably for moments like this. Husbands lift their wives off their feet, and wives cling to their men. Their parents give us space, but I can only imagine how badly they want to hug their sons.

“Daddy.” I exhale the word as he holds me so tightly I struggle to say more. “Greet your parents. Then come back to me. I don’t want to rush.”

“No. Kiss, Wife.”

I obey the command, and it’s like air’s finally pumped back into my lungs. When we pull apart, he nods to my cocked eyebrow. He puts me down, and I step out of the way. Ally and Nikki must think the same thing as me. We move aside as Mam and Da engulf their sons.

She’s sandwiched in the middle as her arms somehow wrap around Sean and Finn with Shane in the middle. Da’s head is above all the others. The sons rest theirs on her shoulders orhead. He lays his hand on Shane’s head. I watched it shake as he put it there.

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