Page 58 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

“Is everything okay?”

Nic’s jaw clenches. “A cop just drove by.”

21

NIC

When I woke up this morning wrapped around Bella, it was unsettling how much I liked it. I could get used to it.

Last night, against my better judgment, I fucked her, and it was… well, better than I could have ever imagined. It wasn’t her tight pussy that made it spectacular, although that contributed. It was how open and responsive she was. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve been with plenty of women who were eager and responsive. Perhaps it’s the trust Bella has put in me, a trust I’m not so sure I deserve.

This mistake was made more clear when I went to pull out and the condom slipped off my dick while still inside her. The last thing either of us needs is a pregnancy.

In the morning, I was grateful that the storm cleared and I could focus on getting us the hell out of here. Max’s call updating me on our driver’s body being found and the stolen car report, while putting pressure on me, was also welcome. The longer I stay here with Bella, the more I don’t want to leave. It makes me an asshole. She had a significant moment in her life last night,and I’m acting like it didn’t happen. Just another woman. Just another fuck. Except it wasn’t, and it’s messing me up inside.

I didn’t think I’d be able to get us out anytime soon with all the snow blocking the drive, but then I found the snow blower. I had to decide whether I should risk the noise of the blower announcing our presence or take the hours and hours to shovel the snow. Since I’m not one hundred percent after getting shot, I decided to take the risk.

Just as I finished up, I saw a cop coming up the street. Was this just a routine patrol through the area, or did someone tip them off about the cabin? I’m not a man who takes chances. I got Bella into the car ASAP and us on the road.

As I pull out of the drive, I don’t see anybody, but then up ahead, a cop car comes toward us. Did he make a circle or is this a different cop? The cop car crawls past us, headed in the direction we just left.

"Keep your head forward," I tell Bella, though she's already doing exactly that. Smart girl.

My eyes dart between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, watching the vehicle shrink into the distance.

"We need to ditch this car," I say, scanning the surroundings for options. The snow-covered rural roads offer little cover, but staying in a potentially hot vehicle is worse. “We need a big parking lot. Do you know of any place?”

“There’s a superstore in the next town,” Bella says, her fingers twisting together in her lap. I want to reach over and take her hand to reassure her, but that’s the sort of romantic bullshit I need to stop.

“Can you get me there?”

She gives me directions. "What if they stop us before then?"

"They won't. But if they do…" I think of the gun I’ve stowed under my seat. I don’t want to use it. Despite the reputation of the Mafia and my current quest to kill my father, I’m not abloodthirsty killer. Not that I don’t want to kill, but it’s a hassle. It brings attention. I’d rather operate in the shadows.

The heater blasts warm air against my face as I press harder on the accelerator. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to put distance between us and that cop. Fifteen minutes later, we enter a larger town. The main drag opens up to a sprawling superstore, its parking lot half-filled with cars despite the weather. I suppose they’re stocking up after the storm. The only problem is cameras. I need to be strategic and stealthy.

“We need supplies,” Bella says.

“We don’t.”

She turns to me. “You could use clothes, and we haven’t had anything of substance to eat.”

“Bella, places like this have cameras everywhere.”

Her eyes narrow as she turns to look at the store. “Let me wear your giant flannel,” she says of the few clothes I’ve stolen from our unknowing host. “There’s a ball cap in the back seat. I can put my hair up and wear it.”

“It’s too risky.” My stomach growls, but I’ve been hungry before. “It’s not smart to shop and then steal a car.”

Her eyes widen. “Steal a car? We can’t. These people are shopping. They can’t come out to find their car gone.” Her response is a reminder that she's too young, too pure for the violence that follows men like me. And yet here she is, running from cops and killers because of choices made by men who’d like to control her.

Including me.

I pull into the far end of the lot, positioning our car between two older model sedans.

“They have insurance.” I hate how I sound like my father, who once told me that people and their things were simply resources for us to use for our own gain. I was twelve, watchinghim destroy a family's livelihood because their restaurant wouldn't pay protection money. He'd called it a lesson in power.

“Would you rather be dead or go to jail? Because if we don’t get new wheels, that’s what will happen.” It occurred to me that I could leave her somewhere and instruct her to tell the authorities I'd kidnapped her. But then she’d end up back with her father… or mine.

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