Page 39 of Mafia Crown

Fear tightens my throat, making it hard to breathe. My mind races, cycling through images of being dragged into the woods, of Kieran fighting off a stranger while I watch helplessly.

Kieran stands slowly, towering over me, and for a moment, I forget to move. His presence is overwhelming, a mixture of strength and something protective—something dangerous. He’s close enough that I can see the faint bruising along his jaw, close enough that the warmth of his body wraps around me like a shield.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he says, his tone firm like it’s not a promise but a fact. “But you’ve got to stop trying to escape.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t scold me—he just states it like it’s simple. Logical. But it isn’t. Not to me.

I should tell him I’ll never stop. I should tell him that no matter what I’m feeling for him right now, nothing will be stronger than my need to escape. My family doesn’t know where I am. They’re probably terrified. I have to get back to them.

But instead, I nod.

It’s a lie. We both know it. But he doesn’t call me out on it.

He just looks at me for a moment longer before turning and walking toward the door, leaving me standing there, clutching the first aid box like it can protect me from what’s coming. From him.

No matter how much I feel for Kieran right now, it’ll never be enough to change what I have to do.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

KIERAN

AFTER LEAVING THE house with my riffle, I scan the area, looking for anything out of place. Anything at all. But as I search the ground for clues the only thing I notice is one set of footprints in the dirt, leading away from the cabin to where I left the man’s body behind the trees.

He was alone. That’s something, at least.

But the fact that anyone came here at all makes my blood simmer. This is my place. No one’s supposed to know about it. The thought that someone followed us from the safehouse sticks in my head like a splinter. That’s the only explanation. He must have tracked us.

I crouch down beside the man’s corpse and check his pockets. No wallet. No ID. No personal items. He doesn’t even have a weapon, which only confirms my suspicion—he didn’t come here to kill. He came to take Hazel. Alive.

But why? I look up and through the trees that grow along the slope. Where is his vehicle? He wouldn’t have left it far away. I rise and look down at his body again.

The question grates on me, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts as I pull out my phone. I snap a picture of the guy’s face, making sure the light catches the features clearly. His lifeless eyes stare back, empty sockets that tell me nothing. I straighten up, dialing Lee. I know it’s a long shot, but if anyone can dig up an identity from a photo, it’s him.

The line clicks once before Lee answers, voice clipped and cautious. “How is everything going? Did you find her?”

“I need a favor,” I say. “Can you run a face check on a guy for me? I’ve sent you the picture.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Kieran, I’m not—”

“Don’t start. Just do it. I’m close to settling this Hazel situation, but this guy followed me. I had to eliminate him.”

He sighs, but I hear the soft tap of his keyboard. “You’re pushing it; you know I shouldn’t be doing this with Patrick so pissed right now.”

“I know.”

“I’ll call you back if I find anything.” Lee ends the call.

I slip the phone back into my pocket and make my way back to the house. I’ll have to dispose of the body later.

As I wait for Lee’s response, I sit in front of the fire; the heat from the fireplace wraps around me, but it doesn’t thaw the tension riding my shoulders. Hazel’s gone for a bath, and the sound of running water echoes faintly through the hall. She’s probably bruised from earlier, but I give her space. She deserves that much, at least.

I touch the bandage on my brow and quickly withdraw my hand as pain erupts. My head is throbbing, but I’ve had worse injuries before.

Charlie lies stretched out in front of the fire, his eyes tracking me as if he can sense my unease. He tilts his head, silently asking,What now?Good question, Charlie.

The phone rings, and I swipe to answer. “Talk.”

Lee doesn’t waste time. “Got your ID. He works for a local gang, a small-time outfit that shouldn’t even be on your radar.”

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