Page 148 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

Marco nods toward a door and mouths, “Basement.” If Salvador is hiding Isabella in a home, the basement is the best place to make sure nosy neighbors don’t know.

He opens the door, and I precede him down the stairs, our footsteps barely audible.

A voice echoes from ahead, Salvatore's distinctive rasp. My blood boils when I hear it.

I signal to Marco, pointing toward a door with light spilling from beneath it.

We position ourselves on either side. I count down with my fingers, three, two, one, and kick the door open, my gun raised.

Salvatore stands talking to a man. Isabella is slumped unconscious on a cot across from him.

Her face is bruised, a trickle of blood running from a split lip.

The men reach for their weapons. “Don’t even think about it,” Marco warns.

"Roman," Salvatore says, recovering quickly from his surprise. "And the great Don Calabresi himself. What an honor." He raises his hands, smiling. "You're making a mistake. She's the traitor, not me."

"We know everything, Sal," Marco says. "Mrs. Ferraza's notebook. Your little scheme with Ernie."

Salvatore's smile falters but returns quickly. "So what? La Corona has gone soft. Don Ferraza killed my brother and you did nothing."

"Leo didn't kill your brother," I say. "You probably did to cover your tracks."

“You know nothing about my brother,” he spits. “All of you are weak. La Corona is a joke and everyone knows it. Too much talking, not enough action. The old ways are dying."

I glance at Isabella, checking for signs of life. Her chest rises and falls. She's breathing.

"What did you give her?" I demand.

"Just something to keep her quiet. She'll live. I wasn't going to kill her. That would be wasteful. There are buyers overseas who'd pay handsomely for a woman like her. We could expand the business, make real money."

My finger tightens on the trigger. "You were going to traffic my wife?"

"Your wife?" He laughs. "She's a means to an end, Roman. Just like her mother was. Just like you are to Marco."

“All your plans are ruined now, Sal,” Marco says.

“What? You going to petition La Corona to kill me?” He scoffs.

Marco shakes his head. “I don’t need La Corona’s permission to kill one of my own. Lucky for me, I have my enforcer here.”

Sal’s bravado falters. His eyes flick to another door in the room.

In the same instant, the other man makes his move, throwing himself forward in a desperate lunge.

Marco curses and dives after him, disappearing through the doorway in pursuit.

"Just you and me now, Roman," Salvatore says, his hand inching toward his gun.

"That's all I need," I reply, watching his every movement.

I need to play this carefully. Last thing I need is a stray bullet to hit Isabella.

His hand grabs his gun. I fire, catching him in the shoulder. He screams, tumbling backward, but still manages to raise his gun.

I kick the table hard, slamming it into his gut. The gun fires, the bullet whizzing past my ear. I vault over the table, knocking the weapon from his grip. His fist connects with my jaw, sending pain shooting through my skull.

We grapple, crashing into the table.