Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

Una

We buy a car with cash and hit the road, heading back to New York. Nero’s theory is that I’ll be safe within his ranks until I can work out who wants me dead, and then…we kill them. That’s all we have to go on for now.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I rest my forehead on them. The confines of the car are making me nauseous again. Great. We’ve only been on the road for two hours.

“You know, you should stay out of this.” The pale blue glow of the dashboard casts his face in an eerie light and his lips curl slightly.

“Morte, from the moment I propositioned you, we were tied. If someone is coming after you, it’s because of me.”

“Which means they’ll be coming for you,” I finish. He nods. I study his reaction. “You know who it is.”

“I have an idea.” He glances at me briefly before turning back to the road. “The hit came the day after the shooting. Only an Italian would be annoyed at the death of three other Italians. Arnaldo knows I was shot, but fuck, I’d be suspicious that only Gio and I managed to escape a massacre.”

“He helped you with Lorenzo’s assassination though...”

“Yes, but he thought I could be controlled.”

“And now you’re off book and he’s suddenly realized that you can’t be leashed.”

He nods. “You left the calling card. I walked away with a mild injury. If he knows we’re working together then as far as he’s concerned, I just bit the hand that feeds me, and so did you.”

“It doesn’t explain why Nicholai called it in though.”

He straightens his arms, pressing his back into the seat. “I don’t know, but we trust no one until we have more to go on.”

“You could still go back. I can run, and he’ll have to come after me. He supported you for capo, so to admit that you went against him would make him look weak. He then goes after the kiss of death, and it looks like he’s seeking retribution. No one would ever know you were involved.”

He huffs a laugh. “Noble, Morte, but haven’t you worked it out yet?” He glances at me and cocks a brow. “I live for war.”

“What about Anna?” Nero and I may be willing to fight, but I didn’t go through all this to save her, just to drag her into a warzone.

“She’ll be safe,” he says dismissively, and it instantly makes me suspicious. There’s not a lot I can do about it right now though. If I don’t save myself, there will be no one to save her.

I grip the edge of the toilet and throw up into it. This has to be a new low in my life, facing the disgusting toilet bowl of a rest stop bathroom.

“Una!” Nero bangs on the door, rattling the metal lock.

“Give me a second.”

This is the second day of this, and I feel like death. I don’t get ill, but I’ve been feeling awful since before Miami. We’re just outside Washington though, so we should be in New York at some point tonight. I hear voices outside the bathroom, and it sounds like Nero is arguing with someone before it goes quiet.

“Sweetheart, you need some help?” a heavily accented female voice asks.

Great. I unlock the door and smile politely.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Her eyes trace over my face, and I’m aware that I look like shit. She’s a middle-aged woman with peroxide blonde hair and far too much makeup on. A name badge at her chest that reads; Wendy-Anne. She smiles kindly, and I see a flash of pity in her eyes before she shoves her way inside and closes the door.

“How far along?” she asks.

I frown at her. “Sorry, what?” She glances down at my stomach and I follow her gaze. What the hell is she looking at?

“How long ya been throwing up, sweetie?”

“Uh, a couple of days.” This is one of those situations where I kind of want to head-butt her, but the motion would probably make me throw up again.

She presses her lips together in a thin line and glances over her shoulder. “You stay here. I’ll be back in a jiffy. I told that fella of yours to leave you be.” She winks and then steps out of the bathroom. I have no idea what she’s doing but my stomach turns over again and I dive for the toilet.

When she comes back, I’m sitting on the dirty floor waiting for the next round of vomiting. “Here ya go, lovey.” She hands me a box and I take it, frowning as I read the front.

“A pregnancy test?” I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not pregnant. I’m sterile,” I tell her flatly, handing the box back to her. I’ve been sterile since I was fourteen, all of Nicholai’s Elite are.

“My sister, Eileen, she had them tubes tied. Then there she is, forty years old and knocked up.” She shakes her head, pushing the box back towards me. “Ain’t gonna hurt nothin’ to rule it out.” She turns and walks out of the room.

“I’m not pregnant!” I call to her retreating back, but she ignores me and closes the door. I stare at the box for a moment, terrified of it. It’s impossible, so this is fine. A little white stick falls out when I open the box. Growing up with guys hadn’t exactly leant me to know about anything like this. Hell, I grew up learning how to kill people. This wasn’t something I ever even thought of, let alone knew about.

Two minutes has never felt so long. I leave the stick on the counter and pace the short circuit from the door to the sink, almost jumping out of my skin when the door bangs. “Una, we need to fucking go,” Nero calls.

“Give me a minute.”

This is stupid. I’m not pregnant. I pick up the stick, and the two red lines sit in that tiny little window. I read over the instructions three times. Two lines means positive.

“Una!” I startle and drop the stick, scrambling to pick it up and put it in the bin before I open the door. I hope my expression isn’t giving away what I’m feeling right now, because if it is, Nero will think someone has died.

“Let’s go.” I walk straight past him and out the door. Wendy-Anne smiles at me from behind the till, and I manage a small smile back. This sinking, plummeting feeling has settled into my gut and it feels like I’m walking to my own funeral. This is impossible.