His Mafia Queen

Blood of a Different Kind

"What is it? Let's fix it. Because I want to know everything. I need to, Gabriel, in order to trust you. I know that sounds fucked up, but if I'm going to stay with you, I need to know what I'm getting into and what I'm facing."

I begin to laugh, softly at first then harder. I tip my head back and chuckle, while Riley's repeating the word what.

"Come here," I say through my laughter.

She glowers in response over the rim of her coffee cup.

"Riley. Sit next to me." I say this in an amused, yet sharper tone.

She rolls her eyes and complies. Sometimes her little brat act is so fucking hot. If I hadn't just gone through the wringer tonight, I'd take her over my knee and spank her. I take the coffee from her hands and set it on the coffee table. She folds her arms across her chest.

"The way to fix that..." I stretch my arm around her and pull her close. "Is to get married."

Probably too soon for that, I'll admit. But not the worst idea. Not even close. Having Riley as my wife would solve several of my problems and worries. The very idea of it warms me to my core, knowing she'd be safe with me. My mind flies into a fantasy of us at an altar in an Italian church, her in a white dress, me lifting her veil...

"Right. The spousal privilege thing."

"About tonight. A Russian guy came in and shot the place up. What you heard from the cops is true. It's obviously a declaration of war between us, and I've got a lot to deal with. Alessandro and I will discuss everything over the weekend in the Bahamas."

"The Bahamas, right."

I kiss her temple and am about to say something on that topic when I pull back. "Babe, you're warm."

My hand goes to her forehead. "Are you sick? You're burning up."

She shrugs. "Probably, with my luck. I was out in that rain for more than an hour tonight."

"We should get some sleep. Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. I've dealt with a lot of shit in my life but never something like this. I was at dinner at The Circle when I heard, and my bodyguards practically physically picked me up and forced me to go to a safe house. Then when I heard four guys had been killed, I was so fucking angry."

I draw in a breath. "That's when the mayor called, and I went to the scene. I kind of suspected you'd be there, but I knew you'd be safe around all those cops. I fucked up, Riley. I should've called you. And then tonight, I shouldn't have panicked when you weren't at my house, but I did. I lost my shit because I was so worried."

My voice cracks, and I draw her into my embrace. The idea of something happening to her is too frightening to even vocalize.

"Oh, Gabriel," she sighs. "I wish everything wasn't so complicated."

"Me too, babe. Me too." We hold each other on the sofa for a while. "Maybe we can take a couple of extra days this coming weekend in the Bahamas, so we can relax. Just me and you. Okay?"

She nods. "If the paper doesn't need me to cover the shooting. That sounds nice, a little vacation."

I pull away from her and cup her face. "It's only Tuesday, or Wednesday, or whatever it is. By Saturday some other news will have taken its place, unfortunately. That's kind of the way of the world."

"Yeah," she snorts. "There will be another mass shooting somewhere else in America."

Sadly, she's right. Riley sniffles and a fat tear rolls down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. "Let's try to get some sleep. I'll arrange a few things in The Bahamas. What would you like? Spa? Boat? Snorkeling?"

She laughs softly, then shakes her head. "I'm too tired to think right now."

I kiss her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. Her skin is fever-hot, and I'm worried she actually did catch a cold out in the rain tonight. "Why don't you take a cool shower and we'll go to bed."

"Here?"

"Of course. I don't have the energy to get back in the car and drive to my house."

"You don't mind?"

I shake my head. Of course I don't. There's nowhere I'd rather be right now — other than killing the sick Russian fucks who eliminated my men. But that will come later.

"Answer me one question," she says.

"What's that?"

"Are you in danger? Personally?" Her eyes have a haunted look, and it makes my heart melt.

I hesitate before answering, knowing I need to choose my words wisely. "I'll be fine, babe."

From her expression I know she doesn't believe me. Riley's upbringing around the Irish mafia means she's familiar with such scenarios.

"C'mon. Let's get some sleep." I stand and help her up. She's sweating now, swaying a little. "You want help in the shower?"

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can have sex tonight."

I chuckle. "Oh, babe, no. Sex is the last thing on my mind right now."

"I'll shower by myself. I'll be quick so you can use the bathroom."

I take her chin in my fingers. "Are you trying to tell me that I smell? Because I know I do."

This makes her giggle a little. "No," she denies, and as she walks away, I give her a playful swat on her sexy butt.

While she showers, I take off my shirt and shoes then stretch out on her bed to check my messages. They're all in coded words and language, and some are in Italian. Then I make a quick call to Alessandro.

"Anything new?" I ask in a low voice.

"It's definitely the Atlanta Russians, the same crew that shot up Gia's house a few years ago," he says in a grim tone. "We've got two guys infiltrating and should have more information tomorrow on their next move."

"Where the fuck were these two guys before tonight? If their infiltration skills were that great, I wouldn't have lost four men." I'm so fucking irritated.

"I know. They're low-level, though. We need to be patient."

"Fine. Call me if you hear anything."

"Same goes for you."

We hang up and I close my eyes while leaning against the headboard. Thank Christ I have the police and the mayor on my side here in the city. Otherwise this situation would be a thousand times worse. Family legacy and money trumps the law every time in this city.

A few minutes later, Riley emerges from the bathroom, her body wrapped in a white fluffy towel. Worry lines etch her brow. Her eyes are pink-rimmed, and her face is even more flushed than before. Her mouth is tight, as if she's in excruciating pain.

I sit up so I can get a better look at her.

"Gabriel?" Her voice is shaky and alarm bells go off in my brain. She's clutching the doorframe as if she can't stand on her own. "I took a cool shower but it didn't help. I feel really weird."

"You okay, babe? What's wrong?" I leap off the bed and take two big steps to reach her, feeling agonized distress at seeing her like this. I stroke her soft cheeks and fear strikes my gut. Everywhere I touch, the heat is searing and it's evident that something is dreadfully wrong.

My pulse pounds in my ears. Where the fuck is my phone? Thank God I've got my private doctor on speed dial. I lead her toward the bed and gently sit her on the edge.

"I'm peeing blood and it really hurts. I think there's something super wrong with me." She rubs her lower back and begins to cry in my arms.