Page 64 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

"Act natural. You're my girlfriend and we're heading home from visiting family. This is your brother Jimmy’s car. He leant it to us when ours broke down.”

I nod, trying to steady my breathing. Five cars ahead of us now. My palms grow sweaty as I watch the officers peer into each vehicle, checking IDs and asking questions. I also notice there are a lot of guns.

Three cars.

Nic shifts in his seat and angles his face slightly away from the window.

Two cars.

My heart pounds so hard I worry the officers will hear it. I try to appear relaxed, like any normal passenger, but I’m pretty sure I’m not being successful.

One car.

"If anything happens," Nic says under his breath, "Tell them I kidnapped you. Call your sister."

I don’t want to do that. He’s helping me. Why would I turn on him?

Nic's face transforms as we pull up to the checkpoint. The hard edges of his expression soften, and an easy smile replaces his usual guarded look. Even his posture changes, becoming more relaxed and open.

“Afternoon, Officer.”

"License, registration, and proof of insurance." The officer shines his flashlight into our car.

"Of course. What’s going on?" Nic pulls out his fake driver's license and hands him the car registration. Inwardly, I send a prayer up that the car hasn’t been reported stolen or that the report hasn’t reached this far east.

“What’s your business?”

"Just heading back from my girlfriend's parents' place. First time meeting them. Nerve-racking stuff, right?"

I’m impressed at how smoothly he delivers the lie. The officer's stern expression cracks slightly as Nic continues spinning a story about our fictional weekend, adding just enough specific details to make it believable without overdoing it. He even jokes about my father's terrible cooking, making the officer chuckle.

I force myself to smile and nod at appropriate moments, trying to match Nic's easy demeanor.

“Hold here.” The officer walks away, taking Nic’s fake ID and the registration. When he returns, he stands outside the driver’sside. "Step out of the vehicle, sir." The officer's casual tone vanishes, replaced by stern authority.

“What’s the problem?” Nic opens the door as if to comply, but he doesn’t get out.

"There seems to be a problem with your registration, sir."

This is it. Our running has come to an end.

23

NIC

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Since the cop started talking to me, I’ve worked to assess what this stop is about and whether this cop works for my father. My father’s reach extends far outside of Manhattan, including cops and judges. It seems drastic to set up a checkpoint to look for me, but the man arranged to have me killed, so I guess he’s willing to do anything.

I push all that away and give the cop a sheepish smile, ignoring his instructions to get out of the car. “Right… ah… well, I forgot to mention why my future in-laws don’t think much of me. My car broke down because I failed to get the oil changed. Luckily, Jimmy, that’s her brother, was able to lend us his car so I could get back to New York. My gal here has a big day starting her new job.” If bullshitting were a sport, I’d be an Olympic medalist.

The cop looks over to Bella, who so far has been holding her own. “I owe my brother big time.” She turns to me. “I’m not happy about that. He’ll lord it over me.”

I wince and look at the cop as if I want sympathy. “Looks like I owe her big time too.”

“Jimmy?” the cop asks, looking at the registration.

“It’s James Reader,” Bella says. “We all call him Jimmy.” She’s so on the ball, I have to wonder if she’s been more involved in her father’s business than she’s let on. I just have to hope the cop doesn’t ask for her ID and learns she’s not related to James and in fact is a missing person.

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