Page 132 of Mob Bride

“You were restitution.”

She nods again.

“What can you tell me to convince me not to turn you over to them?”

Her eyes widen to the point they might truly fall out. Or it would make it easy for me to pluck them out. It freaks people the fuck out when they see their own eyeball staring back at them.

“Krzysztof.”

“Their uncle? He took over the contract?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t care who caused the plane crash. He wants revenge because Bartlomiej loved Carys, and she betrayed him.”

“You make it sound like you believe she actually did that.”

“She did. She didn’t have to make him fall for her. She didn’t have to make him a little bitch. I told Krzysztof she’s the one who shot Jacek. That sealed her fate.”

“And put you in his good graces. Shite load of good it did you. You know he’d turn on you now that Jacek isn’t there to protect you. If you think I’m a sick fuck, you don’t know the half of it. You know he’s been shot like eight times, right? Shanked at least half a dozen times in prison and knifed who the fuck knows how many times in street fights. The man will live forever. Certainly long enough to torture you, but he won’t let you come like Jacek did. Who do you think taught Jacek?”

“None of that matters now.”

“Mmm. Maybe it does. Maybe I’ll trade you to him for Carys’s life.”

“He won’t stop wanting her dead until she is.”

“Okay. Then maybe I’ll go back to my original suggestion. I wouldn’t mind that family owing me a favor.”

“Go ahead. They won’t hurt me. I’m a woman, and even they have limits.”

“She really believes that, doesn’t she? She’s really convinced herself of that in the last couple minutes, hasn’t she?” Finn walks over to her and peers down. “You’re the stupid bitch my brother called you. You were terrified of them a moment ago.”

Dillan puts a bullet in the guy’s chest he was guarding when Cormac went to get the gloves. He wanders over like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“She was just smart enough to get herself fucked, but not the kind she liked from Jacek. Sweetheart, the moment you got involved with a hit on a syndicate woman, you marked yourself the same as a mercenary. There’s no immunity for that. It doesn’t matter if the woman you went after is one of ours, not one of theirs.” Dillan’s patronizing tone pisses her off—which he can tell—so he laughs at her.

Seamus must be bored because he joins the conversation, too. “I’m hangry. I skipped breakfast because you forced me out of bed to deal with this shite when my bride was telling me the most fascinating story. She’s a very vivid storyteller. I haven’t had lunch because of the shite you caused. You’re about to find out what happens to a guy who usually eats forty-five-hundred calories a day misses two meals.” He juts his chin toward Cormac. “My brother doesn’t have a wife, but you disturbed his morning plans, too. He missed both meals just like me. He eats even more than I do. I’d get on with it, if I were you.”

“Tell you what. Tell me which woman, and I’ll end it all now.” I shrug and hold out my hand with the bottle still in it as if to say, “so what’ll it be?”

“Maria.”

It takes a moment, then we’re all laughing so hard, we sound like a pack of hyenas. I struggle to speak.

“Your brother was one dumb motherfucker. The most untouchable woman in all of New York. That’s who he even looked at.”

Maria Mancinelli is no princess. But she’s a Mafia daughter, niece, sister, and wife. Maria’s uncle is the don. Her father’s theirconsigliere. Her oldest brother is the underboss. Her second oldest brother is thecapo dei capi—basically the highest ranking general and third in line to inherit. Her husband’s that brother’s best friend and one of the senior mostcapos. His father is her father’s best friend, and the guy’s mother is her mother’s best friend.

But it’s more than that. Maria is like Colleen was. A woman with a kind heart and a wicked sense of humor and likely the least jaded person in her family despite being right smack in the middle of it. She loathes any syndicate man who isn’t her family, but she’d give us the coat off her back if we deserved help. She’s so untouchable, insulting her caused that melee that nearly got all of us killed in high school. When men kidnapped her, all the families worked to get her back before they could sex traffic her.

“I hope his death was ex—cru—tiat—ing—ly slow.” I draw out each syllable.

“It was. I warned him.”

“Seems nobody warned you.”

I pull out my phone and unlock it.

“What the fuck do you want, you piece of shit?”

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