Conquered by the Mafia Boss

And I mean it. For the first time in my life, I mean it. Like her, I don’t understand why or how-I just know that she’s the one. She gave me what I’d been wanting for so long.

She clings to my shirt and wraps me in a hug that somehow feels different from the ones she usually gives me. Warm air gusts over my neck. “I love you, too.”

The words give me a thrill. I wanted that, too. Someone devoted to me because they love me, not because I’m the boss. She’s the only one who stands up to me and calls me out on my bullshit. I love her for that.

Happy tears leak from her eyes. “But what about you? I didn’t get you anything.”

“I have everything I want. Now what do you say?”

“Thank you, Johnny. I can’t believe this-can I change the name?”

“You can do anything you want, baby. It’s your business.”

She just lights up at that, and then I call out to the girls waiting in the back. “You can come on out.”

Six girls walk out of the back room with big smiles as Maya looks at me curiously. “These girls are going to be working for you. They’ll help you get clients and get this place running.”

She greets them enthusiastically, and I pull her aside. “I’ve got to go, but you can call Chris when you want to be picked up.”

“Okay!” Her lips tremble as sadness overcomes her again. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Bye, hon.”

I kiss her cheek, a glow filling my chest when I watch her smile as she checks out the place, and then I walk out of the hair salon and back to my car.

I’ve been up for hours, obsessing over every detail of what we having going on later tonight. Tonight’s the night of the biggest robbery I’ve ever planned. Everybody’s ready to go on my command, but what that kid said to me still grates against my conscience.

He’s planning something.

I’ve got my guys out on the streets, looking for Carlos to bring him in. I’m not fucking around anymore. The burning message I left at the fortress wasn’t enough. Things are too damn quiet.

I run through the list of things in my head as I pull away from the curb and drive toward the meeting at St. Joseph’s Deli. We’ve got the keys to every door, we know the exact procedure to get in and out of there, we know all the guards by name, even that you have to shut the door before opening the safe, otherwise it trips a silent alarm. I have a guy who will dispose of the van at the junkyard after I transfer the money at the garage to another car. If this goes perfectly, we won’t have to fire a single shot.

Common sense tells me to stay the fuck away, but I can’t shake that I need to be there. It’s the biggest robbery ever attempted. I’ve got to be there.

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Fuck.

Waiting’s the hardest part of my fucking job. For years I was a soldier, getting my hands dirty while my father sat on his ass, waiting for me to bring home a thick wad of cash. Dick.

Now I’m the boss. I delegate things, which is hard when you like doing everything yourself. I sit in the back of the car. We’re parked near the cargo terminal of the airport.

Distant screams of jets vibrate the ground and I clench my teeth as I check my watch. The fifty-minute window rapidly approaches, and there’s no sign of my men.

Something’s wrong.

“Fuck!”

Sal clenches his fist at my outburst. “Take it easy.”

“We have a small window, Sal. I was very fucking clear about that. It only takes them ninety seconds to seal this whole place.”

Dark shapes fly out of the cargo terminal, and Chris immediately starts the car.

“What the fuck are they doing?”

I see the duffel bags on their shoulders, and then I see them heading for bikes.

“GO!”

A white, consuming rage shakes my hands as I grab the pistol strapped to my waist. Chris cuts off the motorcycles with the car and I see their rat fucking faces. One of them swings a shotgun at the window.

BAM!

The shotgun’s blast kills my hearing as it blows a hole the size of my fist in the window. I slam the door open and fling my body behind it, squeezing off shots that I can’t hear. The biker’s head whips back, the blood like a slingshot behind his head as several sparks burst on the door next to me.

Carlos’ people are already fucking here.

“John!”

A heavy weight slams into my back, and my chin hits the cement. Then I hear a scream and Sal’s body rolls off me, blood bursting from his chest. I see movement and my arm jerks instinctually. I pull the trigger, but not before he squeezes off a shot. I dive to the right, and my jacket rips open as a bullet grazes my shoulder. Shit. It stings.

Motorcycle engines roar all around me and I scream into the air as Sal clutches his chest. I know that look draining his face. He’s not going to fucking make it.

A bike slows down and I jump back behind the car door. A deep voice laughs over the roar of the engine and I realize that I’m out of ammo. And I’m staring at the end of a double-barreled shotgun.

Oh God. Maya-

It’s him. Carlos. He laughs his fucking head off and anger bristles inside me. His fucking face is going to be the last thing I see.

“Eat the road, fuckface. I’m bringing my little girl home, and I’ll kill you and any other motherfucker who gets in my way. Thanks for the cash.”

Then he aims his gun at the tires in my car, blowing them out in a series of deafening blasts.

My scream dies in the guttural roar of his engine as he throttles away.

Maya!

This has to be a nightmare. I’m just cracking up a little. There’s no fucking way Les Diables made off with my score, killed Sal and I don’t know how many others, and is en route to rip my wife and baby from my arms.

I stand up, leaving Sal to die on the pavement because nothing matters to me more than getting to my wife as quickly as possible. Blood roars in my ears as I see several more bodies.

“Chris!”

He limps toward me as the rest of my crew sprints out of the airport terminal. François and the others grind to a halt, shock all over their faces.

“Jesus. What happened to the money?”