Page 141 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

The wordpregnantthrows me off, and my brain is scrambledfor a second.

“Please, Dino. Trust me,” Marisol whispers. “I know what I’m doing.”

Shit.

Even though everything in me is screaming to keep her hidden, she’s right.

Marisol is smart. She’s a fucking survivor.

And I need to trust her.

I straighten. She looks back at me, her face flooding with relief. “I’ll do all the talking.”

“That would be good,” I grunt.

She pauses for a minute, then scoops some mud off the ground and smears it on my tattoos on my neck. I raise an eyebrow, and she shrugs.

“Just in case. They’re not exactly subtle.”

I wish I could laugh at that.

Slowly, I follow Marisol over to the truck, which has paused as soon as she waved. She flags them down, a torrent of words coming out of her. She clutches her belly, then waves at me, maybe explaining something about why I don’t speak.

The soldiers don’t even blink.

We’re loaded into the truck, along with a couple of other people who are just as mud-soaked and fucked-up as we are. One of the soldiers smacks the side of the truck, which lumbers away…

Back down the road, toward the city.

I’m tense. I have no fucking clue who else is loaded into thisthing, and I don’t want to make fuckin’ enemies or find someone who would give us right back to Benicio.

I might not have won the competition, but I don’t give a fuck about that.

I won the only thing I cared about, which was Marisol.

I’m staring out the side of the open truck when Marisol sits on my lap. She cuddles against me, her lips near my ear.

“No one here is going to hurt us, Dino.”

“Easy for you to say,” I grunt, trying to hide my mouth as well. I don’t know if it matters, but giving away that I only speak English is probably not a great way to keep a disguise.

“All these people were working the farms nearby when the mudslides happened. They’re in the same boat as us… just trying to get out of here.”

“Yeah, and what about when they pull your father and his men out of the mud and we’re fuckin’ fighting with them?”

“Benicio Souza lost us when we walked out,” Marisol whispers. “And the rest of them…”

She lets her voice trail off, and I sigh. I know what she means. Even if there are any men left alive, it’s going to be an all-out war to establish a new leader if Benicio…

“He might be dead,” she says softly.

Yeah.

That.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I really don’t.”

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