Page 136 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
“Oh, fuck. On my way. I’ll call Lorenzo?—”
I end the call, unable to keep my mind from thinking about the worst-case scenario.
Gabriella and my child are going to die because I’m such a fucking failure as a human being.
Fucking Frank. Why didn’t I see it?
"Faster," I growl as I weave through traffic.
Gabriella. The baby. My family. The word that terrified me is now suddenly vital.
It takes fucking forever, but finally, the warehouse looms ahead. I pull into an alley two blocks away, killing the engine.
I’m checking my gun when Roman parks next to me. “Can’t reach Lorenzo.”
“Odds are he’s dead.” If Frank is the mole, he’s likely the one who tried to ambush me and my men and killed Lorenzo. I can’t wait to kill him. Of course, if he’s hurt Gabriella, his death won’t be fast or clean. He’ll be screaming in agony begging for death.
"I should have seen it."
"We all missed it," Roman says. "Question is, what's his endgame?"
I close my eyes briefly, seeing Gabriella's face. The hurt in her eyes when I accused her of trapping me. The quiet dignity as she walked away.
"Doesn't matter. I'm getting her out."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then we spring it." I start toward the warehouse.
"Boss." Roman's voice drops lower. "If it is a trap and something happens to you?—"
"Then you're in charge," I interrupt. “You get Gabriella safe. Make sure she has everything she needs.”
“Needs?”
“Focus, Roman.” I scan the warehouse perimeter, working to steady my breathing and heart rate. Gabriella and the baby need me to focus too.
“I’ll go around,” Roman says, trotting away.
"Found Lorenzo. Tapped twice,” Roman's voice crackles in my earpiece moments later.
Fuck.
“East entrance clear," Roman reports a few moments later.
I study the parking lot. One car, likely Frank’s.
"Looks like he came alone," I murmur.
"Overconfident bastard," Roman’s voice replies. "Or he's got backup we can't see."
"If he’s the mole, he's betraying Antonio. He won't have men helping him with that." I roll my shoulders to calm the agitation.
Every instinct screams at me to storm in, to put a bullet between Frank's eyes for daring to touch what's mine.
But I've survived this long by controlling those impulses.
"Any sign of Blackwood or Feds?" I ask.
