A New Don: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Romantic Suspense)

by Rowena

  A stolen kiss—that’s all he took.

  I take a deep breath.

  What am I doing? What am I thinking about doing?

  I stand then start pacing the length of the room.

  Five steps down, five back. One pass then two.

  Fear, confusion, and more make my chest tight, my stomach knotted, my knees weak.

  Blood is thicker than water.

  I don’t have a choice.

  It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll find out. My father will know I betrayed him, and then there will be nowhere on this earth I can hide.

  I know of a dozen times someone tried to assassinate my father. Every time they’ve failed.

  My father survived and the perpetrators paid the price. Slow, agonizing, screaming, they paid with their lives.

  The last two times happened after my sixteenth birthday, and he thought I should see what happens to men who try to hurt him. I can still hear them screaming. I wake in the middle of the night with their screams echoing in my ears.

  I don’t have a choice.

  I grab my purse from the dresser next to my bunk and dig through it, pulling out my cell phone.

  My hands are shaking as I unlock it.

  I push the contacts and then I hit my father’s number. It rings, then continues to ring.

  Don’t be home. Don’t do this.

  I have to—no choice. No choice at all.

  Tears stream down my face. I don’t want to do this.

  I start to hang up, then I remember the last man who tried to kill my father. The way he screamed, the sound of his bones breaking. The way my father laughed as the bones broke.

  But this time, it’s not that nameless stranger—it’s Donnie strapped to that chair.

  My father is a monster, and he’ll do that to Donnie. He’ll know what Donnie has planned, and he’ll survive.

  I’m not just doing this for me.

  I’m doing it for me.

  The phone is still ringing.

  I’m about to hang up when it clicks. There’s a pause and then a series of clicks. The line is secure from wiretaps. My father is always careful.

  “Hello,” he says.

  His rough, bass voice echoes across the line.

  My stomach clenches tight as the breath leaves my lungs. I can’t inhale. The pressure on my chest is too much to fight against. The edge of my vision turns black.

  “Hello? Who’s this? You fucking with me? Jackie, trace this fucking call—some wiseass on here.”

  Shit! The phone drops from numb fingers and lands on the floor with a clatter.

  He’s tracing the call!

  Damn it, I’ll ruin everything.

  Memories flood me and I’m shaking…

  Paulie beating me for my father because I dared to talk back to him. Lying curled up in a ball in the corner, too worn out to scream anymore, I whimper as the belt keeps raining down on me while my father watches.

  Tommy. Poor Tommy and his mom who has no one to care for her now.

  The men my father tortured while he laughed.

  My father is a monster. He deserves what he has coming to him.

  I can’t do this; I can’t let him trace this call. He’ll know where I am and send his men.

  I’m too scared to move.

  I get a grip on myself and then slam my foot down on the phone.

  The glass cracks under my heel, but it’s still lit. I smash it again, then, in a frenzy, I stomp it over and over until plastic pieces are flying across the room.

  Tears streaming down my face, I silently scream as I smash the damned thing into a million bits.

  I collapse onto my bunk as the tears flow in an unstoppable torrent.

  I’m such an idiot.

  I cry until my tear ducts are exhausted.

  Lying on my bed, empty and drained of all emotion, I take a shuddering breath then another.

  My choice is made, and I know, deep in my heart, that it’s the right one.

  My father is evil—a bad man who deserves to reap what he has sown.

  Donnie.

  There’s a conundrum.

  Donnie’s planning to send me away to a new life, which is what I’ve always dreamed of. How do I turn that down?

  Except I don’t want to be away from him.

  When I’m with him, my body tingles, my heart soars, and I feel like I’m walking on air. I don’t want to lose that.

  I didn’t sleep with him purely for sex. I want to be around him, I want him in my life. I want to know him better.

  Which is what he said to me—he wants to know me better.

  Does that mean he feels the same? Is he interested in me for me? Could it be why he’s willing to do all he’s done?

  He’s putting up a lot of money and effort for a stranger. He didn’t know who I was, and though he asked me for information, he didn’t force it out of me—I gave it of my own free will, just like I gave him my body.

  He doesn’t ask; he doesn’t have to.

  He’s so kind, thoughtful, and genuinely interested.

  That’s the thing about him that really gets me—he really wants to know. When he asks a question, it’s not perfunctory in any way—he’s interested in the answer.

  And he wants to know me, really know me.

  I want the same thing too.

  I want to know him, and I want to share with him all there is to know about me.

  My belly grumbles, reminding me how long it’s been since I ate.

  I climbing off my bunk, slip out the door and slide into the bathroom.

  I wash my face in the grimy sink then look myself over in the mirror.

  I’m pretty, I know it, but I also see my flaws. My nose has a hump where it was broken by Paulie. Normally, I avoid looking at it, but now I want to. I want to see myself as I am, flaws and all. I need to see who I really am and who I’m going to be. It’s all in my hands now.

  My eyes are a little too wide set and too small. Normally, I fix that with makeup, but I don’t have any here and I haven’t wanted to impose to the point of having Donnie send someone out with a shopping list.

  My hair is great, though I need a trim.

  Yes, I’m pretty. Pretty enough for a man like Donnie and his perfect, hard body that makes my mouth water and other parts of me just as wet.

  The ache in my pussy pulls my attention.

  He stretched me out and I feel like I was well-filled. I’m satisfied yet wanting more. Such an odd contradiction of feelings.

  I shake my head, dry my face the rest of the way and then slip out to go find some food.

  When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear someone talking from the shadows behind some crates.

  I can’t tell who it is, so I walk that way, hoping to find Donnie or one of the men whose name I know so I can ask for some food.

  When I get close, I see a man in a hoodie who has his back to me. One arm is cocked, making it obvious he’s talking on the phone.

  I can’t hear what he’s saying and don’t want to interrupt.

  As I turn to walk away, he turns to one side and I see that it’s Maxwell.

  My heart goes out to him.

  He’s an outcast among these men. He doesn’t fit in, and I feel for him.

  He reminds me of myself growing up in my father’s house—an outcast, a stranger in a strange land. A girl had no place in my father’s life, but as his only heir, he kept forcing me into it.

  Maxwell doesn’t see me, but he seems upset.

  I want to go to him, but I don’t want to make him feel bad or even more awkward.

  My belly grumbles again so I decide to let him be for now.

  Maybe I can talk to him later.

  12

  Donnie

  It’s time.

  At long last, everything is in place.

  I walk into the conference room and find Francesca and Max waiting for me.

  Max is buried in his laptop and Francesca is cleaning her nails with a large knife.r />
  “Hello,” I say, taking my seat. “Are we ready?”

  “Sure,” Francesca says.

  “The messenger has been let in,” Max says. “I’ve got it under surveillance.”

  “Can we watch?” I ask.

  “Can the Horde kick the Alliance’s ass?” Max mutters, typing at his keyboard.

  I glance at Francesca, having no clue what the reference is, but she shrugs.

  A screen drops from the ceiling as the overhead projector comes to life.

  Max finishes typing with a flourish, and we’re watching a surveillance camera video of the warehouse I gave to Emilio.

  The warehouse is packed—hundreds of crates now fill the once empty space.

  Our man is sitting at the same table where Emilio and I dealt.

  Emilio walks in, the same two goons with him, and takes a seat.

  “Do we have sound?” I ask.

  “No,” Max says. “It’s too far for the mics to pick it up clearly. They’ve got heavy equipment that’s creating too much background noise.”

  Okay,” I say and we all continue to watch.

  We can see them talking.

  Everything seems to be going according to plan.

  Anticipation is making pins and needles run up and down my arms.

  If this goes wrong, the man we’re watching is dead. They’ll kill him right there.

  If that happens, then all my preparation, all the planning, all the work of the past year will be lost. I’ll be in worse shape than when I started.

  Everything is riding on this one thing that is not under my control.

  I hate this entire scenario, but there is no choice.

  Emilio stands, and the three of us hold our breath collectively.

  Emilio sticks his hand out across the table, and from the angle we have, I can see he’s smiling.

  Our man smiles, takes his hand, then they shake.

  Everyone walks out of the line of sight of the camera, and we breathe a sigh of relief.

  None of us speak as we continue to wait.

  If it’s good, we’ll have a text in a few minutes.

  It looked fine, but that doesn’t mean it was. Something could have gone wrong—he could have been made, they could have refused the deal.

  We wait.

  Max’s computer chimes.

  He hits a key then leans in, reading closely.

  Francesca and I wait.

  Max looks up and nods.

  Relief floods me.

  “We’ve done it,” I say with a grin.

  “Yes!” Francesca cries out.

  “Time frame?” I ask Max.

  “Two days,” he replies. “They want the delivery in two days.”

  “Perfect,” I say, leaning back in my seat and taking a deep breath. “Gather the men. It’s time for the final phase.”

  “What is the final phase?” Max asks sullenly. “When is this all over? I want to go home.”

  “Don’t we all?” I reply, rolling my shoulders.

  “Sure, now let’s go through the details. It’s time, right?” Francesca says, cutting to the point as usual.

  “Two days from now, the ‘shipment’ will arrive by cargo ship. I’ve made all the arrangements, so it will look suitably impressive. Because it’s such a large deal, Emilio will split his forces. Most of them will go the docks to protect the transaction. This leaves his manor with the smallest defense possible. While his crew is gone, the main portion of our force will hit the manor. Emilio will be there because he likes to keep distance between himself and anything that the Feds might be watching directly. It keeps his exposure to a minimum.”

  “So we take him, but how do we keep his crew from hitting us after we do? Someone will step up as the new leader then we’re screwed. He outguns us three to one,” Francesca says.

  I lean back in my chair and smile.

  “Before I turned the warehouse over to him I had some… surprises left behind.”

  “You’re kidding me!” Francesca exclaims.

  My smile grows even wider as I shake my head.

  “No, I’m not,” I say.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” she exhales.

  Max looks sick. His face is pale and sweaty.

  “Max, are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, something I ate. I have to go,” he says then rushes out of the room.

  Francesca and I watch him go then turn to each other.

  “He’s been off,” she says.

  “I know. It’s the stress. You know he doesn’t deal with it well,” I say.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Okay, I’m going to brief the men. When do we get rid of the girl?”

  “I got her new papers today. I’ll send her away tomorrow.”

  “Good. Get her out of here. I don’t trust her.”

  “I know,” I say. “You’re wrong about her.”

  “Whatever,” she says then walks to the door.

  As I watch her leave, my thoughts turn to Bella.

  I pull the papers out of my jacket pocket and look them over. Passport, drivers license, bank papers, birth certificate and social security number. All brand new. Bella will become Priscilla Roberts. The bank accounts have plenty of money for her to live comfortably for a year or more if she’s frugal. A new start.

  I don’t want to give them to her.

  When she’s around, I feel different—like I’m better when she’s near me.

  I don’t know how a girl I barely know can make me feel that way, but she does.

  It’s stupid, crazy, but it is what it is. I like her. A lot.

  I want her to stay.

  I want the chance to get to know her better than I do. I want to know everything about her.

  I don’t want her to go and find another man, I want to be the one for her.

  I want to, but I can’t. It’s not my choice. I have no claims to her and no right to ask her to stay.

  She knows what I’m going to do.

  How can I ask her to stay, especially now that I know it’s her father I’m moving against?

  It wouldn’t be right. I can’t and I won’t force her.

  If anything goes wrong, she needs to be far away. I can’t risk them finding her here with me.

  Her father is an animal, a mad animal that needs put down. If he even suspects she has been with me all this time, he’ll kill her and it won’t be pretty.

  I know how he works. Many of my men and friends have suffered at his hands.

  I slide the papers back into my jacket and head upstairs to tell her the good news.

  She should be happy. I’ll get her out of here in the morning.

  She’ll be far away from this trouble, safe. It’s for the best.

  Her door is closed so I knock.

  “Just a minute,” she says.

  I hear her footsteps coming to the door and my heartbeat increases as I anticipate her opening it. My chest feels like it’s expanding and I’m light. Happiness fills me and I haven’t even seen her yet.

  The door handle turns and then she’s there, smiling, her brilliant eyes shining. Only through a concerted effort of will do I stop myself from sweeping her into my arms and kissing her.

  “Hi,” she says in the minute or so it takes for me to regain my composure. At least it feels like a minute.

  “Hi,” I reply finally.

  “What’s up?”

  “Your papers are here. You can leave tomorrow,” I say, pulling them out of my pocket.

  “Oh,” she says, and do I hear disappointment?

  I hand them to her, smiling.

  “When… when is the… ” She trails off.

  “The what?” I ask.

  “You know, the final—when do you go after my… him?”

  She shifts her weight and everything between us becomes awkward.

  How much do I tell her? Do I trust her?

  My heart screams yes, my mind urges caution.

  Torn between the two sides, I simply stare for a moment
, taking in the details of her beautiful face.

  “Two days,” I finally say, throwing caution to the wind.

  She nods, pursing her lips, which causes my cock to stir, remembering how they felt wrapped around it. Fuck, this is not the time for that.

  “I want to go,” she says.

  “What?” Surprise makes me blurt it out before I can think about my response.

  “I want to be there,” she says.

  “Nope. Absolutely not,” I say, making a chopping motion across the space between us with my hand. “No way.”

  “Yes,” she says, standing straighter and her eyes flashing fire.

  “This is not up for discussion, Bella. Tomorrow I have a man ready to take you to your new life in Washington. You’ll have everything you need to start over. No one will be able to find you. That’s that.”

  “I know more than I told you,” she says.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I know a lot more,” she says.

  “Yeah… still not buying it. Bella, it’s too dangerous. No way in hell I’m letting you tag along.”

  “He has bio-scanners,” she says.

  “You’re lying to me,” I say.

  “No, I’m not. If you want to get in the house with anything less than a rocket launcher, you’ll need me.”

  “Bullshit,” I say, but I sense she’s telling the truth.

  There’s no quaver to her voice and she speaks with certainty.

  She glares at me, meeting my gaze, and her eyes don’t look away.

  “I’m not lying. I want to be there. I want… to help.”

  She puts her hand on my chest and my skin warms where she’s touching my shirt.

  My blood pumps faster as my heart rate increases, and my thoughts become muddled with desire.

  “I understand, but this is stupid. Entirely too dangerous, and I can’t allow it, no matter what it costs me.”

  “I can handle myself,” she says.

  “Like you did with those men? The handcuffs and bag were not really your style.”

  “Yeah, well, I won’t be alone this time, will I?” she says, not taking her hand off of me.

  Nothing is making sense. I can’t think clearly.

  If she’s right, then, shit—I need her, but I don’t want to put her in danger. How do I handle this?

  There’s only one answer: I don’t. I can’t.

  “Fine,” I say, turning away and walking down the hall.