Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
But Viking, Hawk and Eagle-eye hold it together over the sharp angle and straighten. One by one, the rest of us follow. With another bump that's going to leave my ass sore, I'm back on flat asphalt. Not only did we leave the SUVs behind, but we're heading into South Side. If they follow us in here, they're going to meet a fuckload more resistance than they're ready for.
We cruise three blocks, slowing down easy until we pull into a parking lot and stop. It's not until I put my leg down to steady my bike that I notice how hard it's shaking. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Everyone okay?” asks Viking, beard wild and eyes shining, but sounding casual like we're on a Sunday cruise and didn't just fucking defy death.
We nod and grunt yes.
Snark's grinning like a madman. “That was fucking amazing! Can we do it again?”
Eagle-eye smacks him on the side of the head. “You’re as bad as Wild Child. How are the two of you still alive?”
Viking laughs. “Fucking crazy. Hawk, you're insane.”
Hawk doesn't say anything, but even he seems a little rattled. Something about the flitting of his eyes and how tight his lips are.
“Hey, we made it, yeah?” I say. “I’m not lining up for a second run, but you did good, man.”
We made it, and we're alive, so now we can figure out who the hell tried to kill us. My money's on Antonio, or maybe his brat that was standing behind him at the meeting. He looked fucking rabid. But who knows? The mob is big and most of them would be happy to see us on the bottom of the river.
The one thing I do know is that there's a certain young Mafia princess that we need to look up so we can thank her proper.
She saved our goddamn lives.
6
ALESSA
If there's one thing I've learned as a single teenage mom, it's that everything freaking happens at once.
Isabella, the joy of my life and the bane of my existence, sits up with a little help in my lap after nursing, her eyes glazed and her mouth slack like she's drunk on milk. For a moment, she looks at me with extreme concentration.
Oh no. We both know what's coming. Her stomach rumbles loudly.
What I don't expect is that she explodes at both ends, spitting up all over my shirt after I foolishly put the blanket away just as she fills her diaper, loudly. My nose twitches at the terrible stench of it, just as the washing machine finishes its cycle and plays its stupid little cheery song. And that thing won’t stop until you actually push the button. Izzy’s forehead wrinkles and her face screws up into an unhappy grimace.
“Shhh, shhhh, baby. You’re okay. I’ll get you cleaned up.” And then my phone starts ringing and sends her right over the edge.
Izzy’s mouth opens, and for a second nothing comes out, but then the wailing starts. She's so tired, so this isn't going to be one of those cute, short cries—she's in for the long haul until I take care of her and get her to sleep.
Growing up in a high ranking Mafia family, I've always had everything I needed, everything I wanted. Everything it hadn't even occurred to me that I wanted.
I had no idea how easy I had it, or how spoiled I was.
But then my pregnancy tests came out positive. My bump started showing, and I had to tell Dad. He didn’t talk to me for days, and then shocked the heck out of me by offering to make it all go away.
I refused.
The baby wasn't planned, and it was going to turn my whole life around, but there was no way I could bring myself to not have it. I was so clueless when I thought I knew what I was doing, but it was my choice, and I don't regret it.
Well, most of the time, anyway.
Don’t ask me when I'm up for the fourth time in a single night and have an eight o’clock class.
Or now, when it seems like every living being and electronic device in the apartment is screaming at me and Bea is off being the carefree student I used to be, sipping coffee in the library or flirting with some cute art major in the student center.
No, I love Izzy with all my heart, but I really wish I didn't have to do this alone. But what can I do? My entire support network is in the Family and honor and shame are still strong motivators in an organization as traditional as the Mafia.
Dad's a high ranking officer, and the daughters of high ranking officers don't get knocked up by strangers and raise babies on their own. If they found out that it was a bunch of Screaming Eagles who put her in me, we could wave the truce talks goodbye. No one sullies the honor of the Giordano Family and gets away with it.