Page 8 of Mob Princess

So, I pushed the man out into the hallway. “You're mine now.”

The man grinned. “Bring it on. I’d love to kill you both.”

Punches were thrown and blood was splattered against my white walls as I took the man to the ground. We wrestled while Bonnie cried in the kitchen, and all I wanted was to get back to her. All I wanted was to scoop her into my arms and place her in a relaxing bath. We rolled all the way out into the living room before I finally scrambled back to my feet. I felt a pinching pain in the small of my back before my face connected with the hardwood floor, and that massive brute stood over me.

Except when I flipped over, I punched directly upward crippling the man to his knees.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped.

I wiggled my way from beneath him and stood, hovering over his crouched body. “You let Pava Moretti know that no one will lay a hand on my wife. She’s mine now. And every man he sends to try and hurt her will see himself and his entire family slaughtered in the process.”

Then, I brought my elbow into the back of the man’s neck and knocked him out.

“Bonnie,” I roared.

She sobbed.

I took off back down the hallway. “Bonnie. Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

With the gun in her hands, she sobbed into her palms.

I slid the gun out of her grasp and holstered it back before scooping her into my arms. I walked over to the pantry and opened it up, plucking the phone from its receiver. And after scheduling yet another clean-up for the day, I walked us upstairs.

Putting us behind locked doors until everything was bleached was the best bet.

“Bonnie, take some breaths. I need you to talk to me.”

I sat on the edge of the bed with her in my lap before I gripped her chin. I raised her gaze to mine, and the sight of her swollen eye infuriated me. I ran my thumb along her lower lip, watching her wince as I brushed across the split. Then, with a kiss to her forehead, I picked her up again.

But not before grunting in pain.

“Israel, what's wrong?” she asked.

I walked us into the bathroom. “Nothing a nice, hot bath can’t fix.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I know. It’s just a—”

“No, you’ve got blood on the back of your shirt.”

I settled her down on the bathroom counter before turning around. And sure enough, there was a slow trickle of blood bleeding through the back of my shirt. I stripped myself of my clothes and took a look at the puncture wound. Fucking hell, I’d need a damned doctor to get it stitched up.

“My God,” she breathed. “When will my uncle stop?”

I faced her. “We’ll get through this. You and me.”

Then, a knock came at my bedroom door.

“What?” I roared.

“Message.”

I heard the maid’s voice through the door, and I looked at Bonnie. “I’ll be right back.”

“Who is it?” she asked, her voice breathless and her body still exposed.

“Just stay there.”

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