Page 52 of Married to the Mafia Monster

My eyes scan the area, and I spot a small, folded piece of paper tucked where he said it would be, under a loose floorboard. I quickly retrieve it, my fingers trembling as I unfold the note.

It’s another coded message from my father. I sit down at the table, pulling out my phone to use the decoding app I downloaded earlier.

As I work through the cryptic symbols, my mind races with thoughts of my father, hoping he’s safe and that this message will finally lead me to him.

The code takes time to crack, each symbol revealing a small piece of the puzzle. As I decode the message, the instructions become clear:

If you are alone and safe, come to the old Prohibition-era speakeasy on 42nd Street. Use the phrase ‘Eagle has landed’ to gain entry. Stay hidden until you’re sure it’s safe.

When I arrive at 42nd Street, I find the entrance hidden behind an unassuming door, marked only by a faded sign. I knock twice, then three times, and wait. A small peephole slides open, and a pair of suspicious eyes peer out at me.

“Eagle has landed,” I say, my voice steady.

The door creaks open, and I step inside. The speakeasy is a relic of a bygone era, with dark wood paneling, vintage posters, and an old bar lined with customers. The air is fresh, even as the dim lighting casts eerie shadows on the walls.

I take a moment to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, scanning the room for any sign of my father. A figure steps out from the crowd, and I feel a surge of relief when I recognize him.

“Dad!” I whisper, rushing to his side.

He wraps me in a tight embrace, his voice filled with emotion. “Bella, thank God you’re safe.”

I pull back, studying his face. He looks older, more worn out than I remember, but his eyes are still the same—filled with love and worry. “What’s going on, Dad? Why are we here?”

He leads me to a corner of the room, where we can talk more privately. “I’m sorry, Bella. I never wanted to drag you into this mess.”

I nod, my heart aching for him. “I know about the crop report.”

He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his graying hair. “I made a deal with someone in the agricultural industry to get the only copy.”

He pauses, his eyes filled with regret. “I thought I could auction it to a couple of mafia families and make a lot of money. But instead, I found myself targeted by hitmen from both families. I’ve been running ever since.”

I take a deep breath, my mind racing with the implications. “Dad, we need to get out of here. Vince Russo’s men are still after you, and we don’t have much time. Ricardo and Alex have promised to keep you safe.”

“You trust them?”

“I do. Now let’s move.”

Then everything goes to hell.

THIRTY-FIVE

Alex

I shadowed Bella discreetly, keeping a careful distance as she navigated through the bustling streets of New York until she reached the Speakeasy.

My eyes catch movement near the entrance not long after she’s gone inside. Several men, clearly not your average pedestrians, converging on the location.

The way they move, the way they glance around—it’s obvious they’re rival mobsters. They’re here for Bella and her father. They’ve been following her too, waiting for her to lead them to her father and the crop report.

And then I see him—Vince Russo. He’s standing a little further back, flanked by his guards. His presence confirms my worst fears. This isn’t just a simple ambush; it’s a coordinated hit. I grit my teeth, my mind racing. I need to take out the threat before they reach Bella.

I circle around the block, approaching Russo’s men from behind. The first guard is standing near an alleyway, his back to me. I move swiftly and silently.

I grab him from behind, covering his mouth with one hand and driving my knife into his neck with the other. He gurgles quietly, and I lower him to the ground gently, ensuring no sound escapes.

The second guard is more alert, scanning the area. I pick up a small rock and throw it to the side, creating a distraction. As he turns towards the noise, I rush up behind him.

My arm snakes around his neck, and I apply pressure, cutting off his air supply. He struggles for a moment before going limp in my arms. I ease him to the ground and move on.

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