Page 22 of The Mobster’s Secret

After ten years of being alone, I’ve finally found the one. And I’ll be damned if some punk who wants my throne thinks he can take it away from me. Especially the punk who now runs the family who murdered my father.

“Watch your backs!” I shout at my men as they fire back. “Eyes on rooftops!”

More glass shatters. One of the wheels pops on my escort truck. I fire a cover shot at the sedan, then duck around to the left and take aim.

One of them sees me, and his eyes light up as he tries to bring his gun down on me. He sees the opportunity to take out the king and gain favor with Vincent. But that’s not happening. Not today.

I fire again and send him sprawling. One of his men cries out, and the wheels on the sedan start to spin. It peels out and speeds off, leaving the body of one of their own lying face down on the pavement. Sirens start to blare in the distance.

“Cowards,” I growl, rising to my full height, watching as my would-be assassins retreat.

“Let’s get out of here, boss,” Brian says from my side.

The ferocious criminal in me wants to hop in the truck and chase them down, finish them off, and then go start a war. My shoulder is burning, and I’m boiling over with rage. But Brian is right. We should get back to the house before the cops get here. Most are on my payroll, but I don’t feel like dealing with the ones that aren’t. I’m also bleeding.

“Right.” I nod. “I’ll drive.”

A few minutes later, we’re pulling into the house. Word must have already gotten back about what happened. Tom is waiting for me outside, a phone pressed to his ear. He comes over to me as I step out of the truck.

“Vincent sends his apologies,” he says. “Claims it was a renegade group of men who took it upon themselves to take you out.”

I wave a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, bullshit.”

“He’s afraid of retaliation.”

“He should be.” I nod. “Tell the boys to get ready for war.”

I’m already planning our assault on Vincent when the front doors open and Willow comes racing out. She’s wearing some of her new clothes—a white camisole and a pair of matching shorts. Even though I bought them for her, her legs look so goddamn good in them that I instantly want to get her out of the sight of my men. There’s no way her beauty is lost on them.

“You’re okay!” she exclaims, throwing herself against me. It’s the first true expression of concern she’s given me, and goddamn does it feel good. Then there’s my shoulder, burning with pain.

She must notice me wince, as she quickly pulls back. Her eyes move to my shoulder, dripping blood, and she gasps.

“You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing,” I reply.

“Were you shot!? Someone shot you!?”

Taking her by the hand, I lead her back inside. “You see why I can’t let you leave the house?”

There’s a slight flicker in her eyes when she hears that, but for once, she doesn’t give me any sass back. Her concern has taken over, and to my surprise, she starts leading me to the downstairs bathroom. It’s only been a day and she’s already at home here.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” she says, closing the door behind me. “Take your shirt off.”

I take a seat on the edge of the tub and smile up at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her lips twist slightly as she goes through the vanity and pulls out soap and bandages and starts going to work on me.

I can’t stop staring as her soft hands tend to my wound, moving with such care. Sure, it stings a bit, but the pain is nothing compared to what I’ve felt before, and Willow’s presence is more than enough to keep my mind off it.

My mind should be spinning now, coming up with all the ways I’m going to make Vincent pay for what he’s done.

But all I can see now is Willow.

This move on my life should have me in a fury. The nerve to come against the king. Bastards. But what I really care about is what would happen to her if I was killed.

“That’s good,” I tell her as she finishes wrapping my shoulder.