Page 22 of Born into Mayhem
“Sounds good,” Uncle Vitaly says. “We need to stop by Get the Scoop.”
Our dad raises a pierced brow at his brother. “You found an ice cream sandwich,” he reminds him.
“You saw how small it was. Plus, we’re all having lunch with Max and Talia tomorrow. I should have a cake for them. I don’t want to be rude. Talia’s pregnant. She needs calories.”
“We all know the cake is for you,” our dad says while Sasha sneaks a quick look to where I’m hiding. While our dad and uncle argue about ice cream cakes, Sasha quickly turns his back to them and holds his hands out, palms up, wiggling his fingers.We’ve all been learning sign language so we can talk to Talia’s brother, and even though I’ve still got a long way to go, I recognize the sign forwait.
Without looking back, my brother follows our dad and uncle out. Making sure he’s the last one, he keeps the light on for me and then locks the door behind him. I’m not crazy about being locked up with a dead guy, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.
Just when I think things can’t get much worse, a text comes through on my phone.
DARIO:
Sasha just texted. I’m on my way to get you. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I want answers, streghetta.
Chapter 5
Dario
Atext from Sasha asking me to go and pick up Mia from a shady part of the city was the last thing I’d been expecting. He’d given me barely any information, and then said he couldn’t talk anymore and that she’d explain everything.
Fat fucking chance of that.
He’d told me to take my car, so instead of my Ducati, it’s my Porsche that I bring to a stop in front of a seedy-looking warehouse. Sasha had kicked the keys into the bushes near the door, and it takes me several minutes of shining my phone’s flashlight around before I spot the damn things. Already pissed, I slide the key in and then step into what looks like a fucking kill chamber. Proving my initial assessment of the place right, I spot the dead man lying in a pool of blood near the center of the room.
“Mia?” Already grabbing my gun, I search the darkened corners, ignoring the way my heart races at the thought of her being hurt. “Mia, where the fuck are you,streghetta?”
“I’m over here.”
I swear every muscle in my body loses the tension it’s holding whenI hear her voice. Cutting across the room, I give the dead man a quick glance, taking in the large, gaping wound at the chest and the bloody, beaten face. I don’t recognize him, but I know Mia could easily be responsible for the handiwork. She’s skilled and strong enough to do it.
When I walk past the large shelf and see her huddled in the corner, I tuck my gun away and kneel down. My eyes run over her, and when I see her bloody arm, instinct takes over and I reach out and grab her. Before she can even think to fight me on it, she’s in my arms and pressed against my chest while I bury my nose in her hair and breathe her in, convincing myself that she’s okay.
“What have you gotten yourself into,streghetta mia?”
“I’m fine,” she protests, but her words lack their usual fire.
“How bad are you hurt?”
I try and get a better look at her arm, but she pulls it tighter against her chest and growls, “I’m fine, Dario.”
“You’re not fine. I’m taking you home and getting a better look at your arm.” I ignore the feel of her whole body tightening up like she’s about to try and fight me off, and instead keep her in my arms as I stand and start to walk us out. I’ve never been to this particular warehouse, but I’ve been to enough to recognize it as one of her family’s. They have several of them throughout the city, and they all pretty much serve the same purpose—discreet locations to torture or storage to hide a body, weapons, or drugs.
Knowing it’s pointless to try and get her to talk now, I let her continue to sulk, only stopping long enough to lock the door as we leave before I buckle her ass into the passenger seat of my Porsche.
Before I shut the door on her scowling face, I say, “Sorry you won’t be coming on my bike. Your brother told me to bring my car.”
The angry look she gives is enough to pull a small smile from me before I walk around and get in the driver’s seat. She keeps her arms pressed tightly against her chest with her face turned away from me for the entire drive. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s pissed or if she’s trying to keep pressure on her arm because it’s worse than she’s letting on. I’m guessing a combination of both, and as soon as I pull into my driveway,she’s opening the door before I can attempt to pick her up again. Jokes on her, though, because as soon as I’m next to her, I scoop her back up into my arms.
“I can walk,” she hisses at me, making me think my earlier nickname ofpiccola viperawas correct. She looks like she’s seconds away from sinking her fangs into me again. A smile tugs at my lips, but I refuse to give it free rein.
“You’re bleeding, and I don’t know how bad it is yet. It’s not going to kill you to stay put for a few more minutes.”
She bites back whatever smartass comment she’s about to give when I hold her tighter against me while I dig my keys from my pocket. Mia is a small woman, and even with the muscle she’s built up over the years, she’s still light enough for me to comfortably carry around. I like the feel of her in my arms more than I should, and when I’ve got the door unlocked, I don’t immediately set her down. I take my time, walking her through the living room and then bringing her upstairs.
When I step into my bedroom, she turns her head, putting her face just a few inches from mine when she says, “Why are you bringing me to your bedroom?”
“Relax,streghetta. I have a first-aid kit in my bathroom.” I run my eyes over her flushed face. “Besides, it hasn’t been two weeks yet, and even if it had been, tonight is not the night for us.”
