I turned and with a gasp promptly passed out.
I jolted awake. Crap, Mafia rule number one, don’t fall asleep in a tree unarmed. I stretched my arms above my head.
“What are you doing?” Tex yelled running towards me, fury etched in every plane of his face. Oh yay, another lecture. Like I hadn’t been getting that enough, what with Sergio, Nixon, and Tex it was like living under constant parental guidance.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” I closed my eyes again and leaned back.
“Funny you should ask.” Tex’s voice was closer now; I could almost feel the heat of his body. “Because it looks like you’re climbing a tree but we both know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that, right?”
I blinked my eyes open. “What?”
“One of us is pregnant. News flash, it isn’t the one with a penis!”
“So I can’t climb trees now? The injustice of it all!” I challenged, hating how much I loved his stormy blue eyes, and how fiercely protective they looked in that moment.
“Sure you can.” He gripped the branch above my head and lifted himself effortlessly next to me. “But for future reference I’d just appreciate it if you’d at least put a net underneath the tree and strap tiny parachutes to your ankles, you know just to be safe.”
I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted me.
“Oh, and when I say tree I mean that one.” He pointed to a tiny little tree that was planted next to the house and probably couldn’t even support the weight of a bird.
“Are you saying you want me to sit on that tree when I have an itch to climb?”
Tex grinned, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes as he winked and looked back at the tiny tree. “Sure? Why not?”
“And I’m not strapping parachutes to my ankles, weirdo.”
“Hmm?” Tex tiled his head and flicked my shoe. “At least they’re swollen enough that they may break your fall. So you’ve got that in your favor.”
“My ankles are not swollen, you ass!” It was an impossibility not that he needed to know that.
“Mo, if I was in a shipwreck and holding onto your ankles was my only hope for survival—I’d live.”
I cracked a smile then pushed against his muscled chest. “Why are you picking on me? Don’t you have spiders to kill and ants to examine with a magnifying glass?”
“Aw, low blow.” Tex chuckled. “You had to bring up my childhood torture methods.”
“I saved those ants.” I sniffed. “No thanks to you.”
“Want to know a secret?” Tex asked, looking back at the house and then leaning in until our lips were an inch away.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Tell me.”
“I wanted you to save the ants.”
“Oh, really?” My eyebrows arched in surprise. “So you tortured things in order for me to… what?”
“Well, that’s easy.” Tex shrugged. “You had a weakness for the innocent, if I wanted you to come running, all I needed to do was harm the weak…”
“Evil.”
“Necessary,” he said with a firm nod. “Especially necessary given I wanted the great princess’s attention.” He cleared his throat. “So we’re in the tree, why?”
“Because I—not we—I was thinking.”
“Awesome, well can we think somewhere on the ground where I’m not an easy target for would be assassins? I mean it’s been twelve hours since I’ve been shot at. I really don’t want to push my luck.”
“Aw, where’s the bravery? Let’s put a target on your back and paint your face red, think that will work?” I laughed.
“Aw, baby, if you want to see me blush all you have to do is ask.” Tex said in a gravelly voice, all notes of humor drained from his tone as his eyes drank me in.
I shivered.
“Are you cold?” His eyebrows knit together. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll find a blanket.”
I nodded, hating myself even more. He was treating me like a princess and I wasn’t even pregnant—that I knew.
Wow, I never thought I’d be one of those girls, the ones who actually plotted how to get the Mafia boss to slip up and impregnate me so the lie could be true.
Tex jumped out of the tree and turned, holding his hands up to me. I smiled and fell against his chest.
Just as a figure in black stepped out on the back deck, and shot Tex in the leg.
I screamed.
But my scream was silenced by a blunt object hitting my temple. And everything went completely black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Blood always tastes metallic but before the metal even enters your consciousness, it tastes forbidding, like you know something’s wrong but you’re powerless to stop it.
Sergio
SHIT, THAT HURT. I rubbed my head, my temples were pounding. Was I hungover? Wait, it was morning and—
I jolted to my feet and grabbed my gun.
The house was silent.
Quietly, I stepped around the corner into the kitchen, two men were laying on the ground. Blood pooled at their backs. Mother of God, what had happened?
I walked out into the front of the house where a few of our men were normally stationed and cursed.
Dead.
Five of them.
All dead.
Shot in the head. I leaned down to feel each pulse. Nothing. A piece of white paper fluttered on the last man’s chest.
Are you listening now? said the note.
“Shit!” I kicked the ground and pulled out my cell. Nixon answered on the first ring.
“What?”
“It’s the men—”
“My men?”
“I was knocked out, we’ve got seven dead.”
“Where’s Mo?”
His question swamped my body with a chill. I dropped my phone and raced full blast to the back yard, almost tripping on my own feet as I made it to the place where I’d last seen her.
Only to find one of her flip flops on the ground.
And blood right next to it.
I fell to my knees.
They had no idea what they’d just done.
I knew though—I knew who did it, just like Nixon knew, and I knew, in the end the war they’d just started wouldn’t just go down in history.
It would freaking define it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Doing anything to save someone isn’t really a sacrifice, not if you truly love them.
Tex
“WAKEY, WAKEY.” Something slapped me on the face. With a grunt, I tried to open my eyes but the pain was exploding down my leg. Shit, had I been shot? Again?