Marcello … taken by the Irish?
I sink to the floor, clutching my belly. I can’t even process what he just said, nor can I form a proper response because of the shock.
Marcello is in the hands of the people he hates the most.
They’re going to destroy him.
Sudden gunshots make me look up at the door through which the guard came. Men flock at the door, punching and kicking each other. Panicked, I scramble up and run to Ricardo.
“It isn’t safe. They’ve broken through,” the guard at the top of the stairs yells at us. “C’mon! I know a way out.”
Ricardo pushes me forward, and we run up the stairs, where the other guard grabs my arm and hauls me away from the gun room. Men are fighting all around us, gunshots flying around everywhere, and I duck when one of them shoots right at us.
“Go, go, go!” the guard yells, and he pulls me along the hallway, past several Irish men, shooting them on the way. We walk over dead bodies like it means nothing, and fight our way into the corridor where Mario’s room is.
Where are we going? Why here?
“Isn’t the underground gun room safer?”
“No, they’ll break in eventually or force us out. We can’t risk it,” Ricardo answers.
“Here, here!” Mario beckons us to come inside, and he quickly glances around to make sure no one noticed before shutting the door.
“Is Marcello with you?”
I shake my head, anger twisting at my insides. “They took him.”
Mario’s face darkens, but he quickly recaptures himself. “C’mon. There’s a way out of here.”
He guides us into the kitchenette and beyond, where there’s a door I thought led to a closet for supplies. But when he opens it, he pushes a few cans out of the way and presses a button on the wall. Something clicks, and my heart skips a beat. Mario curls his fingers around the metal and pulls it. The cabinet comes off the wall, including some of the supplies, but he pays no attention to some of the cans and packages that fall off the shelves.
“Inside,” he says, pointing at the small hole appearing behind.
Ricardo goes first, and I follow him into the dark, damp hole. He pulls out his phone and lights the area, showing a long tunnel ahead.
“This tunnel was built during the construction of the house as an emergency exit in case we’d ever need it,” Mario explains. “First time it’s been put to use.”
First time? No wonder there are cobwebs everywhere.
I try to ignore the spiders crawling around as we make our way through the tunnel, leaving the yelling and gunshot noise behind us. Even though it feels wrong to leave Marcello’s people behind, I know they want to defend their home and try to get vengeance for them stealing Marcello away.
“Do you think they can get Marcello back?” I ask.
“Do not worry about Marcello,” Mario says. “He can handle himself.”
“I know Molly and Frank. They’ll chew him up and spit him out.”
“Because he bites,” Mario says, chuckling. “They’re no match for him. They will find out sooner or later.”
I sigh and accept what he says even though I don’t agree.
I know Marcello is a tough motherfucker, but I know Frank is an even tougher motherfucker now that I’ve seen him come back from the dead. And there is no way in hell he’s going to let Marcello win. Not to mention the fact that Molly wants revenge for her crippled husband. They’re probably going to torture him.
The mere thought makes bile rise in my throat, but I force it down and focus on walking because I feel like we’re close. There’s a small ladder leading to a metal enclosure that seals the exit.
“Catch,” Mario says as he throws something at Ricardo.
Ricardo quickly goes up the steps and shoves it into the metal lock, opening it up with Mario’s key. Then he climbs out farther and calls us to come too, so I start on the climb. The bright sunlight blinds me as Ricardo grabs my hand and pulls me outside.
I walk a few steps only to realize we’re on the other side of the mansion in a tiny public park in the middle of the city. I’m impressed they kept this safe and hidden for so long. But it probably won’t be anymore with all of those Irish flooding the house.
“We can’t just leave Marcello in their hands.” I focus on Ricardo and Mario, who seems overwhelmed by my sudden statement as everybody gets out through the hole. “We have to save him.”
Ricardo pushes down the metal door and locks it in place again, throwing the key at Mario, sealing Marcello’s fate. “We can’t help him. The mansion is overrun.”
“But—”
Mario grabs my hand. “Marcello would want you to be safe. At all costs. Even his own life.”
My cheeks turn red, but my eyes water at the same time. “Isn’t there something we can do? We can’t just leave him out there to die.”
Mario nods. “I promise you, I will do my best. But we will have to think up a plan somewhere safe. Not here.”
“The safe house,” Ricardo says. “C’mon. There’s a car parked a few blocks from here that we can use.”
“Convenient,” I say as we all run in the same direction across the street.
“I assure you, nothing is merely convenient in our line of work,” Mario replies as we pass all the people on the street who are oblivious to what just went down only a few blocks away from here. To this Mafia world I now seem entrenched in.
When we get to the car, everybody hops in, and Ricardo hits the gas, racing off. I quickly put on my seat belt as he isn’t being careful at all, and I don’t want to die just yet. Mario’s eyes are glued to the back window as he searches the area for any potential pursuers.
SCREECH!
Ricardo hits the brakes so suddenly that Mario is almost flung to the front, but he manages to hold the chair in front of him.
I mutter, “What the—?”
“Irish,” Ricardo says, pointing at the safe house through the windshield. The building is to the right, and it’s swarming with suspicious-looking men wearing all-black outfits, their hands nervously gripping their belts where their guns are hidden from the public.
I immediately duck down, scared they might recognize me if they see me. I’m sure Molly and Frank showed a picture of me to each and every one of their men to make sure they knew who to snag.
“It’s overrun,” Mario adds, blinking at the scene a couple of times.
Irish pour out of the building like they’re tearing it down from the inside out, leaving nothing unscathed. But none of the men have taken anything from the place. They must be looking for one thing and one thing only: Me.
“Where do we go now?” Mario mutters, sighing defeated.
“FUCK!” Ricardo yells, and he slams his hands onto the steering wheel hard. “This was our last shot.”
Biting my lip, I ruminate on it for a few seconds.
“No, it wasn’t.”
Both men look at me now like I found the golden ticket.
Mario raises his brow. “Is it safe?”
I shrug. “Only one way to find out.”
Ricardo sighs and shifts the car into reverse. “I’m good as long as we’re out of here.”
“There!” I say, pointing at the building to the left.
Ricardo parks the car on the opposite side of the street and checks the neighborhood before stepping out of the car. Before I can do the same, he’s already opened my door.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
“Yes, I do,” Ricardo responds, bringing a blush to my face.
I guess Marcello told him to take care of me like I’m royalty or something.
When Mario gets out of the car, he clears his throat, staring up at the building on the other side of the street. “A church?”
I nod and smile. “C’mon, there’s a back entrance.”
I cross the street with Ricardo and Mario tailing me, both keeping an eye out for any potential attackers. But the Irish don’t know about this place. It’s the one reason Molly and Frank weren’t able to locate me as a child after Marcello pulled me out of that fire. All this time, Andrea has managed to keep me under the radar and out of the hands of the Mafia world without even realizing it. Her secluded way of living protected me, and I am beyond grateful for that.
I just hope she won’t be upset when I ask her to do it for me again.
As I stand in front of the church, I take a deep breath. It’s strange to be back here again so soon, especially with this kind of burden weighing down on me. I pause to rub my belly. Maybe it’s about time I told her too.
We head to the back of the building, where I open the gate to the garden. The back entrance is here, hidden behind a fair amount of bushes and trees.
“And you’re sure this is safe?” Ricardo asks as I open the door a bit too easily.
“Yeah,” I reply with a smirk. “There’s a reason I was able to live and grow up here without Molly and Frank finding me.”
He sighs, reluctantly walking inside to check out the walls covered in webs while I open the door. “If you say so.”
“This way,” I say, walking through a small door in the back that leads to the main area where the pedestal and all the pews are.
Mario’s eyes go from painting to painting. “It is beautiful, I have to say.”
“They’re hand-painted by a local artist,” I reply proudly because I hired them personally to spruce up the building on the inside when it needed a renovation. It brought in a lot more people.
Suddenly, Ricardo stops in his tracks, and I almost bump into him. “Who’s that?”
I peer over his shoulder, and a gigantic smile forms on my face when I see Andrea lighting candles in the corner. She raises her eyes at the men with mistrust, but when she sees me, the look in her eyes softens, and she smiles right back.
“Harper, how nice of you to stop by,” she says, patting down her dress. “I would’ve put on something nicer if I’d known you were coming.”
I immediately push past Ricardo and give her a big hug. “I’m so happy to see you’re okay.”
“Okay? Why wouldn’t I be?” she mutters, coughing a little because I may be squeezing her a little too tight. She pushes me away and grabs my shoulders tight. “Are you in trouble?”
I look down at the tiled floor. “It’s … complicated.”
She grabs my chin and makes me look at her. “You tell me everything that’s bothering you. Everything.”
I nod, but the two men behind me seem skittish. “We’re on the run from the Irish.”
She frowns. “What? But I thought you were with Marcello.”
“Molly and Frank took him, and they’re looking for me right now.”
When I look away, she pulls me in for another hug. “Oh, honey. I knew this day would come. Those bastards will never be satisfied.”
Her hugs always manage to make me feel things, no matter how much I try to hide my emotions.
“I’m sorry your parents are not good people,” she says. “This is why I left. Because of people like them.”
“I’m worried they might—they might—”
I can’t even say it out loud without choking up.
“Shh …” She pats my back. “He’s gonna be fine. The man can handle himself. He’s a mobster for crying out loud.”
I laugh at her comments. Always so direct. Just what I need.
“So. What’s the plan?” she asks.
“Well, we were wondering if we could maybe stay here for a few days?” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “As a hideout until the house is clear again.”
“Hmm …” She eyes the guys standing behind us, trying to listen in to our conversation, and then looks back at me. “Well, guess I don’t really have a choice now, do I?”
“You do, but …” I make a face.
“I’m your last resort,” she says, smiling. “I know.”
“The last thing I want to do is endanger your life too.”
She grabs my face and plants a kiss against my cheeks. “Of course, honey. Anything to protect my baby.”
The word baby makes my eyes spring open wide. “Oh … that reminds me … I have something to tell you.”
She frowns, placing a hand on my back. “What is it, dear?”
I bite my lip. “I’m actually … pregnant.”
Her eyes widen so much they almost pop out. “Pregnant?”
Is she going to be upset? Yell at me? Cry for me?
The silence feels like it lasts an eternity.
Until finally, a broad smile appears on her face.
Her hand slides down to my belly. “Really?”
Tears of joy well up in her eyes, and I know that I made the right decision.
“And it’s Marcello’s?”
I nod a few times, a radiant smile on my face. It’s the first time that I’m proud to say, “Yes. So you’re not mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad? If you’re happy, then who am I to get in the way of that?”
Her response makes me hug her hard. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Because her approval was all I needed to feel comfortable about the idea of having a baby.
“So I don’t mean to be nosy, but … is that who I think it is?” she whispers.
I throw them a look over my shoulder. “Ricardo and Mario. Bodyguard and … Marcello’s father.”
She raises a brow, inspecting them both. “Mario? Oh my …”
I snigger at the way she looks at him as if she’s noticing for the very first time in her life there are some handsome men on this planet. Or maybe, just maybe, she always had an eye on her friend’s husband.
An awkward but cute smile spreads on her face as she waves a little too excitedly at him. “Long time no see.”
