Page 24 of Mafia Priest

My knees sigh with relief when I can finally stand as the man I love approaches the lectern. Despite my nerves, my pussy clenches in anticipation. Revenge is so close, I can taste it.

As Salvatore reads the Gospel, I review our plan. The difficult part was staging this tolooklike a real wedding, with a guest list including every man in the organization—and their families. I pulled the bridezilla card to avoid inviting children, but that still left their adult family members. Yet I refuse to let this carnage unfold in front of innocent bystanders.

We opted for a full Roman Catholic Mass rather than a simple marriage ceremony. The program claims Guido and I will be wed after the homily, but the Mass won’t get that far—it can’t. It’s impossible now for Salvatore to marry us.

I insisted on celebrating the marriage Mass the old way—with the bride and groom kneeling at the altar even when everyone else sits. With Guido’s back to the pews, we can evacuate the innocent bystanders without him noticing—I hope.

Between our hits and our reconnaissance, we figure about 90% of the men left dislike Guido, but we couldn’t risk warning most of them in advance. Our solution is inelegant—an unusual message in the wedding program, one we spent so long crafting that it will forever be burned into my mind:

Today, I punish Marco Mancini’s killers. But if you are reading this, have no fear. You are innocent of the wrongs I avenge.

Father Costa will say three code words during the homily. When he says the word in your program, go to the vestibule if you aren’t a made man. Armed escorts will protect you.

To stop the guilty from growing suspicious, you will leave in stages. Those who leave before their word is spoken will be punished. Your program will be checked.

Don’t talk, whisper, text, or ogle those who leave before you.

We must defend honor. Cowards will be treated as traitors.

—Don Lombardi

The message is mostly lies. The signature is, of course, forged, and the message was ineveryprogram. The families of the traitors received the first code word. They won’t be harmed, but they won’t be allowed to interfere, either.

And there are four code words, not three. But the fourth is known only to my guards and the men we brought up from Philadelphia. Men who are strategically placed near the traitors. Men who know the plan and are seasoned killers.

The pews groan as the Gospel ends and our guests sit while Guido and I once again kneel. There aren’t many parts of the Mass guaranteed to hold anyone’s undivided attention, let alone that of a man like Guido, but I’m praying the homily today will keep him distracted.

Looking up at Salvatore, I can feel his tension. I know that body, those muscles, that soul. But when he speaks, there’s no trace of fear.

“Today’s homily is unorthodox, but this is an unusual occasion. For once, everyone gathered here is family. I know because our bride chose the guests herself, and the don’s men vetted the attendees at the door.”

My heart pounds as I wait for the first code word. If anything happens to Salvatore, I’ll lose my mind. Now that I’m in love, I have more empathy for Mama. But I won’t kill myself if Salvatore dies. No, I’ll destroy the entire fucking world.

“Tolstoywrote that all happy families are alike, but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. As of late, our family has been an unhappy one—beset by grief and tragedy, losses too painful to describe.”

There’s a faint rustling as the first group leaves. I’m dying to turn around, but I don’t.

“La famiglia, like all families, has rules. Rules that make us unique. Rules most of you could recite more readily than the Apostle’s Creed—not that you’d be that stupid.”

“What the fuck is this shit?” Guido mutters.

“Just go with it. He’s probably drunk,” I whisper.

“Sloppy,” Guido replies. “No wonder he couldn’t hack it in the mob.”

Salvatore frowns, and I nod. Guido thinks I’m agreeing. Salvatore knows that’s his cue to get the second group out of here.

“As I was saying—none of you would be that stupid. Becauseomertameans silence. It means you keep your mouth shut or you end up dead. You keep your mouth shut, your wits about you, and don’t enter into fights you can’t win. You follow orders, and you don’t ask questions.”

My nipples harden at the authority in his tone. God, I need him inside me.

“The cruelty of our world is that it’s built upon agreements like these—simple in theory, difficult in execution. But that’s the trouble with honor. It’s something you can lose but never take back. It’s not a hollow promise to a distant bearded guy in the sky or a doddering octogenarian in a pointed hat.”

As he prepares to say the third code word, our eyes meet. The intensity of his gaze tells me that beneath those silly robes, he’s rock hard and as desperate to be inside me as I am to have him there.

“Honor is loyalty, brotherhood, blood. It’s a bone-deep commitment. And forCosa Nostra, honor means more than silence, more than following orders. Character matters, too—meaning you don’t mess around with sisters or daughters unless your intentions are honorable. And what, I ask, is more honorable than the holy sacrament of matrimony?”

I watch Salvatore carefully for any hint that our plan has gone off the rails, but all traces of nervousness are gone. Before me stands a man utterly without fear.

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