Page 63 of Heartless Mafia Prince

“What did you do to my cousin? He’s literally crazy about you.”

She poked out her lower lip. “I want a guy who will kill for me, too. So fucking romantic.”

I elbowed her in the rib. “Shut up.”

We laughed.

***P***

Two hours later, Rocco hoisted me over the fence. His cousins’ bodyguards who patrolled the premises were aware of us leaving. Rocco told them not to tell Art.

He jumped the fence, then grabbed my hand. We cut through Josh’s friend’s yard directly behind the house. The street lamps lit our path under the night sky as we trekked toward the end of the block.

“It’s so cold.” I tugged the front of my jacket closed.

“Try not to think about it, Ryah. We have a long night ahead of us.”

He kissed my lips. Once we reached the corner, Rocco peeked both ways before we crossed. Art sat at the opposite end of Margo’s street. He had the perfect view of traffic coming and going. I glanced to the right and nodded at Smitty. He sat in the dark Suburban up the block at his post. He kept watch. Thank goodness for Smitty. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have any street knowledge when the time came to take my dad’s throne.

Agosto greeted us as he opened the trailer door.

The light popped on as Rocco and I stepped inside.

“Suit up, baby.”

We shed our outerwear and left on our hoodies.

The chilly night air swept through my body as I pulled the bullet-proof vest over my head, sending a shiver up my spine. I shrugged on my leather biker jacket. Our black biker gear was common whenever we pulled a job. Nothing flashy. Our goal was to blend in. After slipping on our boots, we tugged on our open face ski masks and black gloves. My eyes roved over my hot boyfriend's tall, muscled frame as we tied bandanas around our necks and tucked our sunglasses in our inner jacket pockets. No way was I leaving Rocco tonight.

I sighed. “Can’t wait to ride my baby again.”

Rocco cut his eyes at me. “I’m offended you’d pick a motorcycle over me.”

I pressed my lips against his. “Relax, Rocco. You know your number one.”

He shook his head as he kneeled in front of two duffel bags. “Sure I am.” He holstered two Glocks.

I slipped my helmet on as I squatted beside him, placing two AR-15’s, magazines, and specialty items in the other bag.

“I’m ready.” I positioned the duffel across my back, then holstered my weapons under my hoodie.

Rocco placed his helmet on, then inched the Lamborghini Ducati backward down the ramp. I climbed behind him and flipped my shield closed. His motorcycle roared to life.

Rocco gave Agosto a thumbs up.

“I’ll meet you guys at the checkpoint.”

We nodded.

I held Rocco’s waist tight. He darted down the plush residential street, then merged into the light traffic on the main road. Rocco dipped through the streets of Philly en route to our first location.

“How are you doing back there?” I heard through the helmet mic.

“I’m fine.”

“I think you should spend the night every Saturday.”

His deep voice vibrated my body.

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