Page 13 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

“Fucker!”Slap, slap, slap.

“Dammit, stop that!” he yells, throwing up his hands to shield himself. But I don’t stop. Not until my arm feels like it’s about to fall off.

Enzo grabs me around the waist, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing.

“Enough!” he barks, carrying me toward the SUV.

I kick, I scream, I thrash, but it’s no use. He throws me into the backseat like a rag doll. I lunge for the opposite door, but of course—child lock.

“Ugh! Really?” I mutter, rushing forward, trying to climb into the front seats.

Jax climbs in beside me, wrapping his thick arm around my waist and hauling me back. His face red and splotchy from my spatula assault and I grin with accomplishment. He tosses my bag into the back and yanks the spatula out of my hand.

“Give that back,” I snap, reaching for it.

“Not a chance in hell, Dels,” he says with a smirk. “That thing fucking hurts.”

“Good,” I mutter. “It’s the least you deserve.”

Jax grins like a kid who just got away with something. Luca and Enzo climb into the front, the SUV roaring to life as we peel out of the driveway.

I glance at Jax, who’s still smiling like an idiot.

“What are you so happy about?” I snap, my annoyance bubbling over.

His eyes meet mine, soft and teasing. “You’re still angry with me,” he says, his voice low.

“That means you still care.”

I pinch him hard, pushing him away. “It just means I still hate you.”

He chuckles softly, peeling the wrapper off a sucker, not believing a word I say.

Icross my arms tightly, my patience hanging by a thread. "Take me back home," I demand, my voice sharp with frustration.

Luca, the ever-calm hacker who’s probably the least worried about anything, gives me a sideways glance. "Not happening, Lenny."

I grind my teeth. "At least let me pack a better weekend bag, please. I’m not about to get stuck with only my old yoga pants and some ratty t-shirts for this... whatever the hell this is."

He doesn’t even blink. "I blew your house up."

I pause, momentarily losing my ability to speak. "I’m sorry, what?"

He shrugs, as if discussing someone else’s morning commute. "Dramatic, yes. But necessary. We needed them to think you could have been blown to bits. It’ll take them a few days to sort through the pieces of flesh and chunks of skull to figure out you’re still alive. The will reading will probably be over by then."

I blink twice, my head spinning. "Sure, because that’s totally normal. Houses just blow up all the fucking time."

Luca doesn’t even look fazed by my sarcasm. "Sometimes a dramatic statement is needed," he says, sounding entirely too reasonable for my liking.

I want no part in all of this. None. I’m tired. I want to go home. I want to get back to my quiet life—writing steamy taboo novels under a pen name and avoiding confrontation. But Enzo, the ever-competent leader of this circus, pipes up, stealing any ray of sunshine I could hope to grasp in this shitstorm.

"Now do you understand how serious this is, Delaney?" Enzo says flatly, his tone brokering no argument. “This is no fucking game, and you have no choice but to trust us.”

“The letter said not to trust anyone, though. Why are you three the exception to that?”

Enzo rolls his eyes.

“Dels, don’t act like that.” Jax almost sounds pleading, and I can hear real pain in there. Which I choose to ignore. Good. Serves him right.

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