Page 106 of Saved By A God
For a second, nobody moves, then Dad steps forward, and everyone comes toward me at once.
Enzo stays beside me, his hand never leaving mine while I’m kissed on the cheeks, fussed over, and held so tightly I can barely tell where one hug ends and the next begins.
And I feel more loved than I ever have in my life.
When they give me breathing space again, I wipe tears from my cheeks and grin at them. “Wow, you know how to make a girl feel special.”
“It’s so fucking good to have you back,” Christiano says, and instantly everyone quiets down. He comes to stand in front of me. “The other capos and I have put together a little spendingmoney for you, so you can turn this place into whatever your heart desires.”
I hold out my hand to him. “Oooh, do I get a credit card?”
Christiano surprises me by pulling out his wallet and actually placing a black card in my palm. “There is a limit.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Three hundred million.”
Jesus.
All the equipment I can buy with that kind of money rushes through my mind, and I swear I begin salivating.
“I have one condition,” my boss says, his tone clearly stating it’s not up for negotiation.
I let out a sigh and roll my eyes. “I should’ve known there’d be a catch. Let me hear it.”
“No bombs.” My heart squeezes in my chest as his eyes lock with mine. “Ever again. Instead, rig the place with a gas that will knock intruders out so we can deal with whoever dares to come after you. And if it malfunctions, at least it won’t kill you and just give you a good nap.”
A chuckle bursts from me as I nod. “I love the sound of that.”
With the business part concluded, everyone gets a glass of champagne, and as I give all my loved ones a few minutes of undivided attention, Enzo sticks to my side like glue, not taking his hand off my back for a single moment.
Things actually feel like they’re returning to normal.
Just as the thought crosses my mind, Dad comes to me and holds out a phone. “I set it up for you.”
“Aww, thank you, Daddy.” I take the device from him and swipe my thumb over the screen.
“You still have the same number,” Dad mentions.
When Mom walks to us with a box in her hands, I grin. “Oooooh, more gifts!”
“Yeah, you’re not going to like this one,” Dad mutters. “But none of us will tolerate any arguments.”
When Mom opens the box and I see the injection, I instantly know what it contains.
A tracking device.
Not even thinking of arguing, I push up the sleeve of my sweater and hold out my arm.
Dad takes the injection from the box while Mom pulls out an alcohol swab. She cleans a spot on the inside of my upper arm, then Dad steps closer.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod. “Do it.”
Enzo’s hand brushes up and down my back as Dad presses the needle into my skin. There’s a sharp sting, but it’s over in a few seconds.
Mom immediately covers the tiny mark with a small square of gauze, and Dad tapes it down with careful fingers.
The moment feels very emotional for some reason.
“There,” Dad says, his voice rough. “All done.”
