Page 35 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abigail slowly spun herself around on her stool-styled seat, enabling herself to get line-of-sight on their host, Mikey De Salvo. She remembered when they’d been abruptly introduced the night before, he’d somehow looked angrier than his own brother. Whether that was because he was being asked to open up his personal property or because he had a worse temper she genuinely didn’t know.

The blatant anger on his face was less obvious this morning, though his brow still furrowed when he met her stare. “For precisely the reason you were just explaining to Ryoma, you won’t be hiding away like a prisoner.” He lifted the briefcase he held at his side and set it in the seat of the nearest chair. “You’ll use these. Yes, I have remote access and myself or one of my most capable men will be keeping an eye on your signal at all times. If you expect less than that at this stage, you’re an idiot.” He flipped open the lid of the case and spun it as if he were revealing a great prize.

Nestled inside was a laptop, what looked like a new smartphone, an earpiece, and all the charging cables she might need.

Mikey continued speaking. “The laptop and phone have been pre-programmed with information you’ll inevitably find useful. The laptop has restricted access to my network, you should be able to do what you need with it. If that provesinsufficient, we can discuss the situation at that time. Don’t worry about logging on to any secure sites, it won’t be an issue. The only thing you need to be worrying about is getting your job done.”

Abigail gave herself a mental push and found her feet, slowly making her way forward until she could reach the briefcase and the items within. She extracted the phone, running her thumb along the smooth surface. “Thank you,” she said. She looked up at Mikey, who had moved back as she had moved closer. “I assume the tracking is at least partly because you also recognize that I won’t likely succeed if I’m only working on the digital front?”

Mikey inclined his head. “You assume correctly. Ryoma goes where you go, and vice versa. If you have to check in physically at headquarters, he’ll take up a position outside and wait.” Mikey’s expression hardened. “Understand, Ryoma’s job is to protect you while you’re doing what you promised, but his job isalsoto kill you fast and bloody the instant you decide to break that promise. So feel free to trust him only as much as we can trust you.” He cut his stare to Ryoma. “You know the consequences for disobeying. Don’t make me say it.”

“I know,” Ryoma said, his voice tight.

Abigail held tighter to the phone in her hand, a surge of indignation burning inside her. “Mr. De Salvo,” she said, “I do understand what you’ve said, and I don’t expect you to trust my word, so I won’t ask you to. But please don’t threaten my boyfriend.”

Ryoma made a muted sound, as if she’d caught him off-guard.

Both of Mikey’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “Excuse me?”

The feelings tangled and twisted in her chest chose that moment to settle into at least one discernable fact. One simple, complicated thing that she knew was true even though it shouldn’t have been. “Ryoma is the only part of this that makes sense to me right now,” she said, her voice quieter but no less steady. She held Mikey De Salvo’s subtly widened blue eyes. “But you—all of you—are his family. I didn’t set out to destroy families, and I won’t be the reason his falls apart.” If she could help it.

Mikey exhaled harshly and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Then make sure we can trust you.” He twisted on his heel and strode from the room without waiting for a response. The door slammed shut seconds later and Abigail wobbled on her feet, as if the pressure had suddenly been let out of her lungs.

Ryoma was there, curving an arm around her back and tipping her into his chest. “You’re a rare breed, Abigail Fitzgerald,” he said gently.

She let her new phone slip back onto the seat of the chair and pressed her forehead closer to the groove of his throat. “I’m not all that special. I’m just tired of this.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you are special, baby girl.” His lips teased her temple. “My littlesakurasou.”

Abigail blinked and lifted her head. “Your what? Did you just call me a cherry blossom?” She was only somewhat sure she knew the Japanese word for that flower, and like most, it sounded different properly pronounced.

This time Ryoma laughed outright, his brown eyes sparkling. He lowered a hand to her hip and dipped his other into a pocket to tug out the new phone he had acquired sometime during the night. “No, baby girl. Cherry blossoms aresakura.Sakurasouis the Japanese primrose. The word is similar because someone decided a long time ago that the petals looked similar. Here.” He turned the screen of his phone around to show her an image of a bushel of purple-hued flowers. The flowers seemed to grow in a sort of circle around each stem, and the petals resembled elongated hearts. They were pretty, delicate looking, and definitely not cherry blossoms.

Abigail lifted her gaze from the screen after several seconds. “They’re pretty. But what do they have to do with me?”

He dismissed the image and tucked his phone away. “It wasn’t long ago they were considered endangered. Hence, rare.” His arms folded around her, holding her close. “There are grown men who don’t have the balls to look a single De Salvo in the eye and speak coherent sentences, let alone speak up for anyone else. Maybe you can’t see it yet, but you have something most don’t, Abby. Maybe it’s still growing, maybe it’s still hiding inside you somewhere, but it’s there.” He brushed his lips across her cheeks, over the bridge of her nose. “I find myself wanting to protect it, protectyou. That’s not even my nature.”

Abigail scoffed and stretched her arms around his torso, tipping her head back to better find his eyes again. “I think you underestimate yourself. You play that role quite well.”

He grinned. “For you, an’ maybe three other people.”

She rolled her eyes. “There are more than three De Salvos.”

“Exactly my point.” His expression sobered. “I’m good at doin’ what I’m told, and I’d take a bullet for any of ‘em. But there’s a difference between taking a bullet and jumpin’ in front of a train. I’d only dothatfor maybe three.”

Abigail stared up at him, an imagined train suddenly blaring through her mind. “That’s…. Why a train? Most people use taking a bullet as their big ultimate example.”

He shrugged. “Always felt more intense. Growin’ up the way I did, gettin’ hurt was guaranteed. I took my first bullet at fifteen. So it doesn’t feel like as big a sacrifice to say I’d take another. But people don’t generally walk away from bein’ run over by a train. That’s a fast, brutal way to go. I saw it happen once and realized real fast I didn’t want to be on that end of things. Guess it stuck with me.”

She inadvertently held him tighter. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, Ryoma.” She could hardly imagine having to witness something like that.What kind of childhood did he have that he can say that so casually?

He lifted a hand to glide his fingers across her face, cupping her unbruised jaw. “That’s what I’m getting at,Sakurasou. This thing I feel for you … I don’t see myself letting you stare down a train.”

Her heart jumped so hard it nearly burst from her chest. Abigail sucked in a shaky breath. “Is that … something they do?” She hadn’t heard a single rumor about bodies, or body pieces, being found on or adjacent to the train tracks. “The De Salvos, I mean. Do I have to be worried about that?”

His lips twitched. “No, baby girl. It’s just my own personal metaphor. Though it is something the Harada-kai did a couple times out in California.”

Abigail blinked, spinning as she processed his words. “Harada-kai?”

---