Page 11 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

I run through my interactions with my father over the last few months. The tension between us has always been there, a constant undercurrent of rivalry and distrust. But this? Has his desire to kill me been as intense as my desire to kill him?

I close my eyes, memories flooding back. The way he's been pushing me out of key decisions lately. The hushed conversations that stop when I enter a room. The sudden insistence that I handle this seemingly mundane task of escorting Bella. Is that why he sent me here? To kill me away from his turf?

I have to consider all possibilities, including my father and Rinella perhaps working together. Or maybe it’s a rival family. But the pain in my side is intensifying, my head is throbbing, and my mind is feeling sluggish. I’m normally a sharp, tactical thinker in times of crisis, but right now, clarity is out of reach.

I press my hand harder against the wound, but blood continues to seep through my fingers. The dampness extends to my back and I realize that the bullet entered and exited my body. I have two holes. I think that’s good, although it sounds bad.

The world around me starts to blur, the edges of my vision growing fuzzy. My head lolls back against the seat. I want to give in to the growing darkness. I fight against it, forcing my eyes open. My life… Bella’s life depends on it. My body seems to have other thoughts as my strength slides away.

“You need to keep us on the road. Don't stop for anything. Understand?"

She nods, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. I sense her fear, but also determination. Good. We need that to survive. Even so, I can’t rely on her. She’s a sheltered Mafia princess. Her knowledge of this world, her connections to it, are limited. But I’m too compromised to be much good to either of us. I need help. I need to make a call. A call that could be traced.

“I need you to change direction. Head south.”

She glances over at me, her brow furrowed.

“Do it.” I don’t have the time or strength to explain all my decisions.

She turns her blinker on, moving toward the exit. When we’re heading south, I pull out my phone and call the only person I know I can trust in this situation.

The phone nearly slips from my grip as my hand is slick with my blood. I dial Max’s number. Massimo “Max” Giraldi is like a brother to me. His father worked for my father, so we grew up together. We both agree that my father is Caligula living incarnate. Gia’s mother realized the same, only too late to save her. But she’d had the foresight to make both me and Max promise to look out for Gia. She even made Max Gia’s godfather, despite the fact that he was only eighteen at the time.

Five years ago, Max left New York to work for my father’s organization in Las Vegas. I’ve never understood why he so willingly made the move since Gia continued to need protection, but I figure she’s more my responsibility than his.

“Nic. What’s up?”

“I’m leaking blood.”

“What the fuck?” His friendly voice morphs into concern.

“We were ambushed. The driver.” Jesus, why is it so hard to make my mouth work?

“Where?”

“Chicago. I’ve got the Rinella girl… on the run.”

“Fuck… I know a guy in Chicago?—”

“No. I can’t trust anyone. We’re going…” Fuck, where are we going?

“Jones, Michigan,” Bella says.

“Jones, Michigan.”

“Where?”

“There’s a cabin… We need a place to hide.”

“I’ll come?—”

“No. I need you to dig around and figure out who’s trying to kill me… or Bella. I’m flying blind here.”

“I’ll reach out to informants. I know a few Outfit guys. I’ll see what they might have heard.”

“I have to consider it’s inside.” I glance at Bella, not wanting her to know I suspect my father. Not yet, anyway. “I need you to find an excuse to return to New York and look out for Gia. Make sure she and the kids are safe."

There's a long pause on the other end of the line. Too long. It’s weird. "Max?”

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