Page 19 of Consumed By the Mafia

He yanked her around the corner of the building, just barely out of sight of the alley, and pinned her against the wall. “Listen. We got two, maybe three, groups of assholes lookin’ to kill us right now. Those bastards won’t back down if you go out and flash your fancy badge, they’ll just fill you full of holes. One more body means jack shit to them. If you’re feeling suicidal, you won’t be doing it in front of me. I’m not inclined to play along.”

Her heart leaped at his confusing but not horrible words.

He moved one hand from the wall to take hold of her chin in a firm, not bruising, grip. “That means you’re sticking with me, and we’re gonna keep up the story that you’re mine until you and I have had a nice, long conversation about this fucking bomb you just dropped on me, got it? Because if I go to my boss and tell him my woman turned out to be FBI, we mightbothend up dead. And I’m not dying for a fed. But five minutesago? Five minutes ago I’d have taken a bullet for you. So right now I’m feeling very fucking conflicted, baby girl. I need you to cooperate while I get my head on straight, okay?”

She felt somehow both horrendously guilty and stupidly relieved at his words. There was an undertone of something that stung like anger buried beneath those feelings, but deep enough that she was able to ignore it. “Please don’t … take a bullet for me.”

Ryoma grunted, grabbed her hand, and pulled her from the wall. “Walk with me. And for fuck’s sake, don’t show anyone else that goddamn badge.”

She couldn’t stop herself from holding onto his hand as they started moving again. There was urgency in their steps, and she knew it wasn’t entirely due to their agitated mood. “Won’t you get in more trouble for hiding me?”

“I might. You might be ruining everything for me, I don’t fucking know.”

The tears she’d struggled against earlier sprang forward again at his rough, honest words. “What? Why … would you let me do that?”

He turned them down another side street that cut sharply in a different direction. “I haven’tdecidedto.”

Abigail opened her mouth to ask more questions, but caught the words before they could fall. He’d already admitted to being conflicted, and in the larger situation they were dealing with it wasn’t as if he could focus only on how to respond to her revelation. It was still highly likely that he’d opt to toss her aside as soon as he had a moment to think.

For as much as the idea hurt, she supposed she couldn’t blame him.

They crossed three more blocks in silence before a beat-up Chevy swerved onto the sidewalk in front of them. The driver swung a gun out his window as the passenger jumped out and stood to aim another over the roof, also in their direction. Neither of these men were cops. They looked every bit the cliché gangster in their oversized clothing with the shiny, chunky jewelry and visible tattoos.

“Cezar sends his regards,” the driver said, his voice cold and his glare leveled on Ryoma.

Shit!Abigail moved to reach for her purse, but she knew she’d never get her gun out in time.

Ryoma threw them both to the ground in a rough, but effective, tackle roll that spared them from the first volley of gunfire. He came up on his knees, gun in hand, but it wouldn’t be enough.

Abigail shoved her hand into her purse in a desperate attempt to improve their odds. She didn’t register the sound of squealing tires behind the rapid bursts of gunfire until everything came to an abrupt stop. She was flat on her stomach with her gun half drawn, all of a sudden blinking up at multiple pairs of black-clad legs rushing into view. Behind them, she glimpsed the beginnings of a blood pool on the cement.

“You all right, brother?” a deep voice asked. Something about the voice was distantly familiar.

“Been fucking better,” Ryoma replied from just beyond her periphery. He heaved a breath. “These two were Ink Blots. Driver went out of his way to let me know Barros sent them.”

“Sounds personal,” Deep Voice said.

“Maybe he’s pissed about Ramires.” Ryoma’s feet came into Abigail’s line of sight as she slowly pushed herself up to sitting. He looked over at her, seeming to hesitate before holding out a hand. “Can you stand?”

A new kind of anxiety twisted inside her. He could out her right here and any one of the men now surrounding them could—probably would—put a hole in her head and walk away. If they were smart they’d lift one of the gangsters’ guns to do it, leaving the dead gangsters to take the blame. The problem she had dropped on him would be solved and he’d have one less burden to deal with.

Abigail dragged in a breath. She couldn’t dwell on that risk. All she could do was hope he still wasn’t inclined to go that route. “Yes,” she said, re-zipping her purse and taking his hand.

As soon as she was on her feet, she found herself staring up,up, into the faintly narrowed, dark blue eyes of a man-shaped mountain named Cristiano De Salvo. A cold chill went through her. Her informant had mentioned him, too. She had been incredibly grateful not to have heard those stories before the one time she’d encountered him previously. But she was sure now his had been the familiar voice, because theyhadmet, however briefly.

Ryoma gestured to her. “This is—”

Cristiano’s lips twitched. “Turns out we’ve met.”

Ryoma froze.

Abigail dug up a smile, doing her best not to think about the violence she’d been told this man was capable of. She wasn’t really sure she liked that he remembered her so easily, but she wasn’t all thatsurprised. “Cris, right? Are you and Felicity married yet?”

“You have a good memory. We are, yes. She’ll be happy to hear from you again,” Cristiano said. He glanced to the side and made a gesture to one of the other men. “Let’s get out of here.”

The man darted off toward an idling SUV and Ryoma spoke again, just loud enough for Cristiano and Abigail to hear. “Can we swing by south side? I want to get Abigail off the streets, maybe clean up some of these scrapes.”

She struggled to keep her expression steady. That was the first time Ryoma had used her proper name.So he’s decided.Of course he had. And she’d always known what choice he’d make.

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