Page 48 of Mafia Queen
I hear people running across the parking lot shouting “what the fuck” and “where was it?” I try to sit up, but Santino pushes me down. I can’t see anything but the top of the dumpster and the brick wall of the adjacent building.
“Hush.” He starts the car and reverses with a screech of rubber.
The view changes. The sky is nickel-gray, but there’s no rain or lightning to accompany the thunder.
Then the sirens. People running by, close enough to the car to touch it. Someone slams into the passenger side before going around.
“Santino!” I say sternly, trying to overpower him.
“Stay still!”
“Get off me!”
“This is not the time to show me you’re a modern woman.”
Maybe I’m a self-destructive, disobedient monster, but I have to see, so I fight my way up to look out the windows. A cop car passes us, lights flashing and siren set to eleven. A dark gray mushroom cap rises to the sky. Not gunshots. And I haven’t heard another pop.
“You’re being paranoid. It’s got nothing to do with us.”
“Stay down.” He pulls my head back into his lap, throws the car into drive, and takes off. “We’re going to pass it. I don’t want them to see you.”
The back of my head is thrust into his crotch when he whips around a turn.
“Can you tell me what’s going on, please?”
“I know why they didn’t confirm the appointment.”
I twist to look up at him—the curve of his chest, the underside of his chin, the bridge of his arms to the wheel. Even with the creeping smell of smoke and the increasing wail of sirens, is any woman safer?
“What does that have to do with it?”
He stops at a light and cranes his neck to look out the passenger window. “Shit.”
“What?” I try to get up, but he pushes me down. “Let me see!”
He’s strong but must see the futility of trying to keep me down again.
The block perpendicular to us is short, and it’s already being cleared. The stone building nearest to the corner is five stories, and black smoke is billowing out of the top two floors. The façade to the front lobby has collapsed, taking a crater of sidewalk with it. A woman with a blood-covered face stumbles out the front door, tips sideways, and is caught by firefighters before she hits the ground.
“Is that the lawyer’s office?” I ask.
In answer, Santino pulls me back into his lap.
“We lost the crown,” I say, looking up at his chin.
“We did.”
The inheritance is a distraction from what I really want—a life and family with him. I should be happy it’s out of our hands, but I’m not. I feel violated.
“It’s mine,” I say.
“And that’s why they’re going to try to kill you.” He looks down briefly before putting his attention back on the road. “They think they have power over me now.”
When I feel the car hit highway speeds, I sit up. He doesn’t stop me.
“Don’t they have power over you now?” I ask. “Over us?”
“My love is stronger than any crown. They’re going to die before they lay a finger on you.”
