MOBSTER’S BABY_Esposito Family Mafia

by Nicole Fox

  I raised a brow and looked down at Misha as we walked through the hallway, and shook my head. She was pissed. I could hear it in her ‘mmhms’ and see it in the little stomps of her feet as we made our way out into the parking lot.

  “Misha,” I said. “You know what she said in there doesn’t mean shit, right? There’s nothing wrong with Rose.”

  “I know there’s nothing wrong with Rose,” she said sharply. “But that’s not the point.” She sighed. I waited for her to speak, but she didn’t. I reached out and took her arm, making her stop and turn around to face me.

  “What is the point, then?” She frowned.

  “That she—she’s smart and well liked, but she’s not, you know. Like the other children. She wasn’t brought up like the other children, and it’s obvious that she wasn’t brought up like the other children. I don’t know why I thought that she would just, I don’t know, blend in seamlessly. I should have known that there would be things that were different for her than there were for them. It’s not her fault, and it’s not fair, but—”

  “Misha.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Does that really matter? Does it? So she’s got a couple of quirks and says and knows things other children don’t. It’s fine. We’ll get her set a little straighter for the environment that she’s in. It’s gonna take time. Remember: that was all she knew for five years. The whole five years that she’s been alive. It can’t be helped, babe.”

  Misha drew in a deep breath, and after a few moments, she nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re right. I just wish that woman wasn’t so … smug about it! Like it was a fault or something.”

  I smirked. “Sure you’re not just mad because she was making eyeballs at me?”

  She smacked my arm. “I’m not above making you sleep on the couch, mister …”

  # # #

  We got back home to Travis and Trixie looking after Rose. They had her on the front porch, doing more drawings in chalk like she’d done at the bar. She looked up when she saw Misha and I pull up, and bounded on over.

  “Mama! Mr. Trip!” She gave us each a hug as Trixie and Travis walked over.

  I smiled down at Rose. “Hey, sweetie. Why don’t you go inside and get washed up so that we can start dinner soon, okay?”

  “Okay!”

  I watched her trot inside before turning to Travis. “Anything?”

  “Nah. It was all nice and quiet here, no disturbances or anything. Which ain’t a bad thing, but all this quiet is really weird, don’t cha think?”

  “Weird, but it’s not unwelcome. We’ll keep on having an eye until something stirs. Anything about—”

  My phone started to ring. I rolled my eyes. “Great. I bet this is something great.” I answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Brig.”

  “Where are you calling from?”

  “A hospital.”

  I paled.

  “The fuck are you doing at a hospital—”

  “I wanted to see if I could get some information on what was going on with Holland,” he said. “Sorry, it was last minute. I knew you wouldn’t want me heading off—”

  “You’re damn right I wouldn’t want you heading off.”

  “Listen, Trip. Bitch me out later. But you need to know, Holland’s dead. I think they’re gonna start moving a little quicker now that he’s officially out of the picture. From what I’ve gathered poking around, it seems like it was dragged out a little, pulling the plug. Seems Holland’s old lady was trying to hold out, but I guess Rigger was getting impatient.”

  “I bet he was.”

  “Yeah, well. Just keep an eye out on things. I think I’m gonna keep an ear on the ground to keep you informed.”

  “You figured that all out on your own, huh?”

  “I figured you had enough you were dealing with and at least this way we have real information, instead of just waiting to see if they’re going to do something.”

  “Fair enough. You keep yourself out of too much trouble, Brig.”

  “I make no promises, boss.”

  Click.

  I sighed.

  “What is it, Trip?” Misha looked up at me, worried.

  “Holland’s dead,” I told her. Her eyes widened.

  “Rigger—”

  “His old lady. Pulled the plug.”

  “Christ.”

  “I don’t think shehad another choice. At least this way she had control over it. At least this way Rigger wasn’t able to do something worse to him or make him suffer.”

  “Yeah.”

  I gave a look at Trixie and Travis, nodding up to the house. Travis got the hint and slid his hand into Trixie’s. He tugged her up and led her away from Misha and me, and when they were gone, I pressed my forehead to Misha’s.

  “You okay?” I asked. She breathed in. She let it out. She did it a couple of times, and as she did, I watched her face. The tears were slow to come, but they came. Misha didn’t sob, though. I wondered if she even had it in herself to sob over a man like Holland.

  After a few moments, she looked up to me. She blinked a few of the tears out of her face, but what made me sigh in relief was the smile that was on her face.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “I am okay. Really, I am. It’s not the worst thing that could have happened, and I was expecting it anyway.”

  “But he meant something to you …” I tried, and did fairly well, keeping the jealousy out of my voice. “At least on some level.”

  “I was attached because he was the safest thing around,” she said. “But it was never going to last. Or I knew that it couldn’t last. And I never let whatever safety and comfort I got from him overshadow the fact that he still took me and kept me and Rose like he did. Like pawns …”

  “Hey.” Her eyes had downcast to the ground, and I tilted her chin up so that she could look at me. “Don’t worry too hard about it, okay? That’s all behind us, and we’ll work on the shit that’s ahead of us now.”

  She leaned up and kissed me, and I kissed her back, eager as I ever was.

  “Trip?”

  “Yeah, Misha?”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you too, baby.”

  I kissed her, bringing her in close to me. It deepened pretty quickly, my hands finding her ass and gripping her there to pull her against me. She whined and moaned so pretty for me, and I backed us up until we hit my bike.

  “Trip—”

  “Mama!”

  I chuckled as Misha let out a breathy little laugh. Rose came bounding over to us, with a peculiar look on her face.

  “We’re supposed to cook dinner,” she said, putting her little hands on her hips, jutting them out. I had to laugh at the sight; her eyes might be mine, but every damn thing else about her was full-on Misha.

  “We are supposed to cook dinner, aren’t we? What do you say, Misha?”

  She slid her hand into mine, and I squeezed.

  “I say it sounds like a good idea to me.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A bike zoomed through Pride territory, pushing past the speed limit and pushing further. No cops would pull that bike over, however. Not with who was riding it—or at least not with who that person was associated with.

  JACKAL was emblazoned on the back of his kutte. His face was hidden behind a pair of shades. He was on a mission. He was looking for someone. There was a bounty and clout worth a hell of a lot more than just the money for the pretty little piece that had gotten away.

  He rode through town, keeping a keen eye. Those who saw him and got a decent enough glimpse at his kutte turned their eyes away just as quickly, and that suited him just as well. He didn’t have time to deal with the locals and their little candy ass attitudes; he’d be long gone, anyway, by the time any of them thought to squeal to their precious Pride.

  He ended up by the school that he’d found out was their daughter’s. He sat there and watched it for a while. He had been keeping track of their movements, picking up pa
tterns. The others weren’t smart enough to think to do it—or too chicken shit to just move in on them guns blazing. He was neither. He was patient.

  He watched the school for a little before he saw them pull up. They’d finally gotten a regular truck to take the little girl to and from school in. That was good. That was smart. He watched as the couple pulled into the parent loop, as they waited, and finally, as the little girl skipped her way to the truck, and the truck pulled off.

  He waited some more before he pulled off to follow.

  The others were always far too obvious in how they trailed. He knew how to stay back and keep from being spotted, knew how to look as though he were merely going the same way that someone was going rather than methodically trailing them. He knew that he hadn’t been noticed; they continued on their merry little ways without so much as trying to shake him, nor did he get the feeling that they were panicking.

  He followed them until they pulled off onto a road that he knew led down to more private property. It was dirt and gravel, lined on both sides in trees, forest, and prickly bushes of all sorts. Instead of following properly down the road, the man stopped, parked his bike on the side of the drive in the bushes, and started to walk.

  He stayed off the road, walking just in the trees that lined it. It would keep him hidden without getting him lost, and it wasn’t long before he came up to the house in question. Cute little two story. The woman, Trip, and the little girl were getting out of the truck and making their way into the house. The man heard the girl let out a squeal of laughter. He receded a little farther into the trees.

  Keeping his eye on the front of the house, the man pulled his cellphone out of his kutte pocket. He hit a speed dial number and waited. The person on the other end picked up after a few rings.

  “You better have good news for me.”

  “I do, boss. I found the woman you’re looking for—Misha. Her and the girl; shacking up with Trip.”

  “Of course she is. Are you there now?”

  “I am. I can send you the location now.”

  “Good. How many are there?”

  “Just the woman, the girl, and Trip. No others I can see in the house—no cars or bikes were outside. I think they’re in for the day. They just picked the little girl up from school.”

  “Good. Call Galen. I think I have a distraction in mind that’ll get Trip out of the way and the rest of his crew with their hands tied. You wait there for me, you understand?”

  “I sure do, boss.”

  “Good. We’re about to get what’s mine back.”

  “And the bounty?”

  There was a laugh on the other line.

  “All yours.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Misha

  “Trip … Trip your phone is ringing … Trip.”

  I didn’t know what time it was, just that it was too damn late for the phone to be going off. It had been a long day, and an even longer evening with Trip giving me all his attention, and I had no desire to hear his phone—or mine, for that matter—ringing off the hook at one in the morning.

  Trip rolled over beside me, groaning, seeming to have the same idea I had about not wanting the distraction.

  “’m getting it, ’m getting it …” He scooted away from me reluctantly, getting his phone from the nightstand to answer.

  “The fuck do you want, Brig?”

  There was some silence, a bit of gurgled talk I couldn’t really make out from the phone, before Trip sat up straight.

  “Are you serious? When? Where? Fuck.”

  I rolled over and watched him as he got out of bed, flicked on the light, and started rummaging around for clothing. I was confused and mostly worried; it was never a good sign when something was going down in the middle of the night. I sat up as he pulled on pants and a shirt and shrugged on his kutte. I frowned as all he seemed to do was listen to what Brig was saying on the other end of the phone, and swear intermittently.

  “Yeah … Yeah … All right … Yeah … I’ll be there as soon as I can. See ya.” He hung up. “For fuck’s sake.”

  “What’s going on, Trip?”

  “Some assholes fucking around with Trixie while Travis and her were out. They ended up getting into a huge ass fight. Brig wants me to come down and smooth shit over; apparently, it’s some other club—”

  “Jackals?”

  Trip shook his head. “Nah, nothing like that, but we don’t ride around in our colors to be getting into some dumb shit like that. On top of that, there’s apparently a huge party causing a bit of ruckus over by Big Mama’s and long story short we’re killing two birds one stone.”

  I frowned. That was a lot to go on in one night. “You want me to stay up for you?”

  “Nah, babe. Go ahead and sleep. I’ll try to get back as quick as possible, okay?”

  “Okay, hun. Be careful.”

  He grinned at me.“Always, babe.”

  He kissed me on the forehead and left. I tried to go back to sleep after that, but I found it difficult. Something didn’t feel right. I figured perhaps I was just being paranoid, as I had been for the last few weeks in a state of constant hypervigilance. I decided to go downstairs and make myself some tea, wait up a little, and then see for myself if I could possibly get to sleep after having the warm, calming liquid.

  I put the kettle to the stove and pulled down my favorite loose leaf. Trip called it ‘bougie,’ but there was nothing better to me than loose leaf tea steeped to perfection. As I let the water heat, I stood by the kitchen window.

  My brows furrowed when I caught a movement.

  It’s probably just a raccoon or an opossum, I reasoned. There are a lot of those out there.

  Once more, I brushed off the feeling that something was off. It was night, I was alone, and we had been on a bit of a high alert for the better part of the last few weeks. But this was just simple club stuff, and we were way out of the way.

  Away from people that could help.

  I groaned. I didn’t need to be giving myself those kind of thoughts!

  I looked outside one last time, giving whatever animal was out there the glare of a lifetime before turning back to my kettle. It started to slowly whistle and I took it off, getting my mug and the little metal ball with my tea in it ready. I set them on the counter to steep, and was about to get out milk and sugar when I heard something outside.

  My heart thumped in a small panic.

  It’s just a raccoon. They like getting into the garbage cans in the middle of the night, that’s nothing new—

  But what I heard next didn’t sound like a raccoon. It sounded like bikes and car tires rolling around the dirt and gravel road that led to the house. I was very familiar with the sound of the Pride boys’ trucks and bikes—there was always a distinct kind of sound that every vehicle made, regardless of whether or not it was a run-of-the-mill little car or something fancier. I had gotten good at figuring out the differences in the sounds of different cars.

  None of these belonged to the Pride boys.

  I left my tea and bounded up the stairs. Whoever it was that was outside wasn’t welcome, and I needed to get Rose and call Trip. Something wasn’t right, and I had a feeling about what it was.

  I dashed into Rose’s room, feeling bad about waking my little girl, but it was necessary.

  “Rose? Hun? Come on, sweetie, you need to wake up.”

  She rolled over, blinking tired little eyes at me.

  “Mama? Mama, what’s wrong? Is it time for school?”

  “No, sweetie. Come on. There are some people outside and we need to hide, okay? We have to be very, very quiet and—”

  There was a loud bang at the door, like someone trying to knock it down. I heard an indistinguishable shout, and my fears mounted then.

  “Mama—”

  “Hush, Rose, come on!”

  I didn’t wait for her to react, scooping her up in my arms and running down the hall to mine and Trip’s room as a second bang rang out, and I knew that
the front door had been kicked in when the sound of thudding boots hit the wood floors.

  “I saw her in through the kitchen window. She’s somewhere in here. Find her and the girl; Rigger wants ’em both.”

  I grabbed my phone from the nightstand when I ran into the room, and had I had the time, I’d have grabbed the gun, too. But I knew that I needed to hide, and I knew that trying to get in a firefight with these assholes wasn’t going to end well for me; I was outnumbered, and had Rose to think of and not just myself. I scooted us into the closet, thankful it was deep and hoping that the clothing and closed door would be enough to hide us.