Conquered by the Mafia Boss

He shifts his bulk, his eyes flicking away from me. “What am I supposed to do, lead a fucking coup against our boss? I’ll be shot for suggesting it.”

“Don’t act like this was his idea.”

“It was his idea.”

“You already betrayed your boss. Here. When you let Jack leave without a fight.”

A nasty smile stretches across his face. “You’re a pretty ballsy woman to talk to me like that.”

Ohplease. What are you going to do, hit me?

I have to keep reminding myself that these Mafia assholes have an ego the size of Quebec.

“He needs help.”

Sal’s eyes slide to mine. The look he throws me sends a spear through me.

“Sit down and shut up.”

My fists ball at the table as heat rises to my cheeks. Weakening, my knees buckle.

He’s not allowed to talk to you like that.

Jack’s raw voice, unbidden, speaks in my ear as if he stands right beside me.

What am I supposed to do?

Kick his fucking ass.

The voice and its laughter fade in my ear as courage quails. What the hell am I supposed to do? What can I do? Jack might not be able to handle this on his own, and if he can’t? Well, then my baby grows up without a father.

A cold shudder runs through my body. No.

Jesus, what about Maya? That son of a bitch is her husband-I completely forgot! Shit.

I stand back up and move around the table, heading for the door. One of the goons stationed at the door blocks my exit with his body.

“Get out of my way!”

“Your husband wants you to stay put.”

“Shut up, both of you!”

A merry tune fills the small room as Sal digs his hand into his trousers and pulls out his phone.

Oh my God.

I hold my breath.

“Sal,” he answers in a clipped voice. “Yeah, she’s still here. What happened? Shit. Jesus. Yeah, we’re on our way!”

“What happened?”

Sal ends the call laboriously and pitying eyes focus on me. “Looks like Jack got into a car accident before he could get to John’s house.”

My voice goes up at least one octave. “What?”

“He’s hurt pretty bad. We need to get to the hospital now.”

Jack’s hurt, and this time it’s not just a sprained arm or a broken wrist. It’s serious. A sob catches in my throat.

My wavering voice screams at the men. “Well, let’s go!”

He nods to them and they step aside, letting me through the bar. Sal is close behind, huffing slightly as he keeps pace with me. I sprint outside, imagining a twisted wreck of smoking metal and mangled limbs. Oh God.

“How bad is it?” I ask him, close to tears. “Did they say?”

“They didn’t want to talk about it on the phone.”

“Where’s your car?”

“This way.”

I follow him to the Saturn parked out front. One of his goons opens the door for me and I slide in, twisting my hand in my lap.

Keep it together. He’s fine. He’s Jack-practically indestructible.

My eyes start to sting. He’s hurt pretty bad, that’s what Sal said.

The car starts and I throttle back in my seat. Wheezing from the blow to my back, I think about the pain he must be in right now. My mind races, trying to find the last time I felt his lips on my skin. I think about the way my body sang when he pulled me over his lap that first time I saw him, and then I hate myself for this macabre replay of our relationship.

Have some fucking faith that I’m all right.

Buildings whisk by the window as we drive up the ramp to the highway.

“Which hospital is he at?”

“Some place northeast.”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I nod, hardly listening to his response. Then something jumps from the back of my brain and my heart starts pounding as if I snorted a line of coke.

“Wait-doesn’t Johnny live downtown?”

“Yeah.”

So why the fuck are we going the wrong way?

The silence pricks my skin like needles. “Where are we going?”