Page 4 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

For now.

The survivor thinks I’m going to help. His hands reach for me as I open the car door, and I swat them away.

I lean into his jacket, pulling out his gun.

“Who sent you?” I ask. “Tell me, and I’ll call for an ambulance.”

“Christian,” he says, the word a wet gurgle.

“Thank you.” I tilt his head with my free hand and place the gun against the man’s temple, ignoring his panicked gibbering. “See you in hell.”

The bullet passes through his head and into the seat. I toss the gun back into the car and produce a matchbook from my jacket pocket.

This car will go up like a goddamn bonfire, taking all the forensic evidence of murder with it, but it needs a helping hand.

I take a few steps back, strike a match, and flick it at the pool of gas spreading beneath the vehicle. It catches with a muffled sound, the flames thumping into the air with a flash of heat.

Keira is still in my car. Her expression is one of terror, fury, and fascination all at once.

If she weren’t so beautiful, she’d look batshit crazy.

But sheisbeautiful. Devastating, in fact—more so than I remembered, and God knows I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about her since our night together.

“You shot him,” she cries as I stroll toward her. “Why did you do that?”

“Because he was here for you.”

I climb into the driver’s side and start the engine driving away casually, like a regular small-town guy. Nothing to see here.

“I’m so confused, and you’re scaring the shit out of me.” She buries her face in her hands. “I don’t see you for six weeks, and now the bodies are piling up out of nowhere. Talk to me, Salvatore, please.”

“Hold on.” I dig my cell phone out of my pocket and call Antonio.

He answers at once. “Well?”

“Got her. On my way.”

“Any trouble?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Be careful.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

I hang up the phone, glancing Keira’s way. “I didn’t ghost you.”

“You said you’d find me. I thought that meant you’d arrange another date. Not this.”

Reasonable enough expectation, if I was anyone else.

I clear my throat. “Have you heard of the high council?”

“Is that to do with the commission that Zoey mentioned?”

“Sort of. The commission is like the government and legal system all rolled into one for mafia families. That’s based here in the States. The high council is over in Rome. It presides over all the commissions of the world.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

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