Page 148 of Chicago Sin

Arturo sends a quick look at Emilio. “Tell us what, Emilio?” His voice is deadly. It makes goosebumps stand up on my arms.

“He hired us,” the guy says.

“I called it off, asshole,” Emilio grits through clenched teeth. Sweat beads at his forehead. He’s as pale as a fucking Swede.

The ripple of shock that runs through the wise guys is palpable.

“I called it off today.” Emilio shifts from foot to foot.

The guy shrugs. “I didn’t get no memo.”

“I called it off!” Emilio shouts, like he’s losing his fucking head.

“You heard him,” Arturo says, picking up the thread. “And that fucking order didn’t come from the don. So if you don’t want your entire gang obliterated, I suggest you walk out of here and never come near any of us again. Capito?”

“Yeah, okay.” The guy tries to sound cool, but he and his two buddies exit swiftly.

The sound of sirens approaching fills the air, and Arturo curses. “Give me the fucking gun,” he says to me because if I get caught with the thing, I’m gonna get another five years in the pen, just like that.

But I’m not about to give up my weapon. Not when there’s a fucking traitor in our midst. I point it at Emilio’s head. Marco and Leo do the same.

Emilio holds both hands in the air, his gun dangling on his trigger finger. Slowly, he drops to his knees and places the Walther PPK on the floor. “I thought you were going to kill me, Mando,” he croaks. “Because of Grace.” His hands visibly shake, but he holds eye contact with me, which is pretty fucking ballsy, considering he’s admitting to putting a hit on me.

“You fucking bastard,” Marco spits.

“I was afraid of you. Everyone thought you’d do something to me. Everyone, right?” He looks around for support, but no one says a fucking word. The cops screech up, lights flashing.

“Enough,” Arturo snaps. “The don will settle this. Not any of you,” he says fiercely, throwing his warning glance at me, Marco and Leo. “I mean it. He’s a made man. You can’t touch him. Don G. will decide his fate. Now give me that fucking gun, Mando, before you land your ass back in the can. Everyone else, put your goddamn pieces away. I’ll handle the cops.”

I put the safety on the gun and toss it to him as the cops advance. The rest of the guys put theirs away, and everyone raises their hands in the air. Emilio climbs awkwardly to his feet, never taking his gaze off me. He still thinks I’m going to kill him.

“They’re gone,” Arturo hollers to the cops. “It was some kind of gang hit, but they ran when we came out of the barbershop with our own weapons.” He slowly walks outside, hands loosely held in the air. Don Pachino has some boys in blue on the payroll, and chances are good Artie knows who they are and vice versa. I can only fucking hope he can talk us out of this shit show.

I expect them to order us all face down, but they don’t. They definitely know Artie. They let him approach and give them his story about what happened.

Marco purposely knocks into Emilio as he walks out, and Leo shoots him a look that swears death. I should be thinking about killing the bastard, but I don’t. Because as I step outside, I see Hannah standing in front of Rocco’s, tears streaming down her face. Lorenzo stands protectively by her side and nods to me when I lift my chin.

“Armando!” she cries out.

“It’s okay, Flowers.” I hold open my arms, and she runs into them. Her soft body collides with mine, she presses all those curves against me, buries her face in my chest. “It’s over now. Forever.”

She blinks up at me, and I stroke my thumb down her smooth brown skin. “It’s over,” I repeat, realizing it might be true.

Emilio revoked the hit. Arturo warned off the Hermanos who hadn’t heard the message. That means other than the shit that needs to be resolved between me and Emilio, my life’s safe for the moment.

My girl and our baby are safe.

I slide my fingers in her curls to cup the back of her head and meld my lips to hers. “Marry me?” I ask.

Her lips part in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Flowers. You’re the reason I want to live. The reason I’m glad I’m free. Even without the baby, I’d want to move you into my place and keep you forever.”

She lets out a watery laugh. “Wow. I don’t know.”

My heart stutters. I put a knuckle under her chin to lift her gaze to mine. “You don’t know?”

“What about—” she flutters a hand at her ruined shop, the glass shattered from bullets.