Page 63 of Secret Mafia Daddy

“Talk to you later, Antonio,” I say, looking over at the other men who clearly don’t care about the man on the ground. They’re just talking and laughing amongst themselves.

It makes me feel glad that I have a more loyal crew than this Antonio seems to have.

The new address is twenty minutes away, and on the ride, I can’t play the music loud enough. Thoughts of Catarina seem to push through, ridding me off all the blissful adrenaline that interrogating Antonio had given me.

Catarina, her blonde curls mussed as she first wakes up, those gray eyes glinting at me in the sunlight. Catarina, with Chelsea on her hip, smiling at her in that way she has.

Goddamnit.

I do love her. It’s not just that we’ve been sleeping together for a while or that she’s the mother of my daughter. It’s because of her and how I feel about her. This has never happened to me before, and as I speed to the next location, I feel like I can barely breathe.

My heart aches as I get out of the car, and instantly, before I can even look around, someone tackles me to the ground.

Fuck, yes, I think, beating the guy in the side of the head, rocking my body so that he can’t get good purchase. I feel light-headed and a bit dizzy, the rush doing its job, and I’m finally no longer thinking about Catarina.

Then he pins me and there’s a bloom of pain at my side. I realize that I’ve been stabbed. And all I can hope is that the cut isn’t too deep.

I kick him in the nuts but he blocks me with one hand and gets ahold of my legs, dragging me toward the building.

I’d thought that I’d parked far enough away that he wouldn’t see me, but clearly Dmitri had his eyes open. I hadn’t.

I’m too busy thinking about the woman who broke my heart.

I’m being captured, and it’s my own fucking fault.

It’s dark and I’m still fighting when he gets me into the warehouse and ties my arms behind my back. I manage to make him grunt a few times in pain as I kick him in various spots, but I’m losing energy and blood.

I black out when he hits me in the face.

* * *

When I come to, it’s daylight, and I’m thinking about Chelsea. If I never come home, she’ll be worried sick. Even if Catarina doesn’t care about me, I know that my daughter does, and despite the pain in my stomach and head, I wriggle in the restraints. He’s made a rookie mistake – he hasn’t tied the rope tight enough, and I manage to struggle out of them and stand up, leaning my back against the column and groaning quietly.

I can’t hear footsteps, only the steady drip of something in the back of the warehouse, and I realize slowly that I’m alone. Thank god, because I don’t think I can fight in this condition. I look down at my shirt and it’s ripped through at the bottom, blood soaking my shirt. I seem to have stopped bleeding, though, and I hope I’m not bleeding internally.

I’ll have to talk to Jimmy Sawbones, but at least I’m not dead.

I make it back to where I left my car, but of course, it’s gone. My phone is missing so I stumble toward the alley, hoping to get to the next block over which will have a couple of convenience stores.

I borrow a phone at the nearest convenience store and call Dante’s burner, which I've had memorized for years.

“Ricci,” he answers in a bark.

“Dante,” I breathe. “It’s Angelo. I need help, I’m at the convenience store on tenth and twelfth.”

“Angelo? Shit. I’ll send Tony, a guy I trust there in New York, he’s close. Ten minutes. Nico will fly there ASAP.”

“Thanks, capo,” I croak out, and hang up the phone, handing it back to the store attendant.

Tony shows up in less than ten minutes, and I make my way out to his car slowly, holding the wound on my belly.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “The Russians got to you?”

“Yeah, I know, I should have waited for Nico to come with.”

Tony simply nods, and there’s something pale in his expression, something almost shocked.

I lean back in the seat, relieved to be out of there.

---