Page 9 of Married with Mayhem

8

MONTE

S he’s killing me with those trusting, worried eyes. They’ve been trained on me since I tucked her into the passenger seat of the Impala and hurtled out of New York City.

“Are you sure your dad and Nico are okay?” she asks for the third time. Or maybe it’s the fourth.

The western Pennsylvania scenery flies past in the dark. “Nico is safe at my dad’s house in Queens, just in case. And no one will dare harm Sal Castelli. It would be like putting a hit out on Santa Claus.”

“But your dad’s not in the mafia,” she says.

“Of course not. There is no mafia, Sabrina.”

She ought to appreciate this is a joke but she’s too troubled to notice. She twists the ends of her long hair around her fingers and stares out the window, too distracted to even open her laptop and play video games.

“I’m sorry, Monte,” she says in a quiet, mournful voice that makes my chest constrict with guilt.

There’s a sudden tightness in my throat. “It’s not your fault.”

A motherfucking skunk like Lenny Lombardo shouldn’t have been in a position to breathe the same air as Sabrina. I could have stopped her from going to the game and I should have stopped her from going to the game. Although I was deeply uneasy from the second we walked into that basement, it wasn’t until Lombardo showed up that I sensed the situation was about to get really nasty.

At least I could have had the foresight to warn her not to mention her last name. Big Pete knew who she was but no one else needed to know. The wounds of last year’s war are still healing and the quickest way to rip the stitches open is to utter the name Barone.

When violence is necessary, it’s best to face the chore with a cool temper and a calculated plan. I like to think I’ve matured enough to conquer my hothead impulses. But I never counted on being forced to watch some lowlife scumbag put his filthy hands on Sabrina.

He touched her.

HE FUCKING TOUCHED HER!

The sight of her face going ashen with shock and terror was all it took to short circuit my brain with blinding white hot rage.

I barely remember diving across the room, tackling Lombardo and squeezing an arm around his windpipe. Even when the sound of Sabrina’s voice brought me back to reality and I realized I’d just committed a major fuckup that was going to require some action, I wasn’t sorry.

What I am sorry for is the grief I’m causing my father and brother.

And I’m sorry that Sabrina is under the mistaken impression that she’s to blame.

But I’m not sorry for teaching that bastard a lesson. He pissed and puked on himself in a crowded room and that’s not a humiliation he’ll ever live down.

Which brings me to my present predicament.

Lenny Lombardo is the butt of a lot of jokes but he’s also a made guy, knighted by big boss Richie Amato some twenty years back. With the Amato empire in shambles and no clear leader emerging, it’s tough to say where Lombardo stands. I’ll need to speak to both Silvio and Gianni.

But I can worry about my own fate later. My first priority is to get Sabrina to Colorado where she’ll be safe. There’s not much of a chance Lombardo will lash out and go after her but I’d rather be sure that she’s far out of his reach for now. Luca’s no longer active in the mafia world but he’s still Luca. Nothing will happen to Sabrina under the roof of her sister and brother-in-law.

Sabrina stretches and yawns. It’s the middle of the night and the sky will still be dark for quite a while.

“Why don’t you try to take a nap?” I suggest. “I threw a blanket and pillow in the backseat if you want to grab them.”

“A pillow?” she says with an odd squeak. She clears her throat. “You mean your pillow?”

“Yeah. You’ve been sleeping on it the last couple of nights. What’s the problem?”

“No problem.” She rubs her palms on her thighs, which is something she does when she’s nervous. “Why would there be a problem with your pillow?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Nothing to tell. Your pillow is awesome. I get tremendous enjoyment out of your pillow.”

She’s facing away, studying the passenger window as we pass a big rig on the highway. There’s a curtain of hair blocking her face from view and it’s too dark for me to see if she’s blushing, but I get the impression she’s all worked up about this pillow topic and somehow I’m not in on the joke.

“Okay,” I say because I don’t have much else to add. My shoulders are stiff and general fatigue is beginning to set in but I’m determined to drive through the night.

Sabrina quits pretending to look out the window. “I can drive for a while if you’re tired.”

“When was the last time you drove a car?”

“I didn’t mark the date on a calendar but it can’t be too hard to steer straight on the highway for a few hours.”

“Wait, didn’t you lose your license?”

“No, I didn’t lose my license, Mr. Road Police.”

“Huh. I seem to remember a traffic court situation.”

She waves a hand around with irritation. “Because there are three million rules about where you can park and drive and breathe in Manhattan. No one can keep them all straight and the cops hand out tickets like confetti.”

“Just how many pieces of this confetti did you collect?”

“Enough to send my father into a lengthy sexist tirade about female drivers before he took my keys away permanently.”

Sabrina always grimaces at the mention of her father. She doesn’t discuss him often and when she does, there’s nothing nice to say.

Hearing a shaky sigh from her as she grapples with bad memories flicks a switch inside me. I pull my eyes off the road long enough to swiftly study her. The sporadic shine of highway lights offers only teasing glimpses of her profile, yet there’s no hiding that this girl is truly stunning. My fingers itch to trace the delicate lines of her face and linger on her full lips before exploring the column of her throat and then roaming lower.

Or maybe I’m just getting loopy as fuck now that the adrenaline of our escape from New York is evaporating. There needs to be some caffeine in my future.

“We’re about thirty miles outside of Pittsburgh,” I say. “We’ll stop somewhere to gas up and get coffee.”

“Good. I hope they have bagels.” She checks her phone. “The news of our departure must not have reached Sicily yet. No frantic incoming messages from my mother.”

As we left New York behind, I called Luca to provide a quick update. As much as I hated to involve him in anything mafia-related at all, Sabrina is his sister-in-law so he had to be told. But it’s not like he’d be in a rush to blab to overseas relatives.

“When you do talk to your mother, tell her not to worry.”

Sabrina snorts. “As if that will do any good. I’m by far her least capable child so worrying comes with the territory.”

I don’t like hearing her put herself down. Sabrina is funny and creative and plenty smart enough to do anything she wants once she focuses. I just wish her weird, cloistered upbringing hadn’t convinced her otherwise.

“Speaking of Sicilian relations,” she says, “how much of a hissy fit do you think Vittorio will throw when hears why I needed to flee New York?”

“He’s your uncle. You tell me.”

She drums her fingers on her sparkly phone case. “Vittorio Messina doesn’t like surprises. He doesn’t like most people either. He’ll be unhappy that I’ve upset my mother, and even more salty about the way I left Sicily without his permission.”

“What’s the deal with that? Are you a prisoner there?”

“Not exactly. But I’m also not exactly free to do as I please. One unfortunate quality my uncle shares with my late father is an obsolete view of women. It’s unacceptable to him that I’m still single and he’s done his best to talk me into making a marriage arrangement. He even tried to guilt me into agreeing by claiming it would please my mother. He presented me with an assembly line of Sicilian suitors. When I balked at all of those, he made the case for an American option.”

The idea of Sabrina being bargained away like real estate to some degenerate mafia heir boils my blood so much that my brain gets temporarily scrambled.

Which is why it takes me a few seconds to register her last comment.

“What American option?” I ask, feeling queasy.

She shrugs. “Not a New York family. I forget the name. They’re based somewhere out west. This family evidently has a squad of strapping sons on the hunt for mafia princess brides and Vittorio encouraged me to take my pick. He made it sound like shopping for a car.” She pulls her backpack into her lap and drags out her laptop. “Tempo. I think that was their name. Or maybe it was Tempa.”

Nope, that’s not their name.

“Tempesta.” I watch my knuckles tighten on the steering wheel with fresh fury.

Her head whips to the side and her eyes are startled. “Yeah, that’s it. You know them?”

“I’ve heard of them.” That’s all I’m willing to share. No need to add to her worries.

She waits for me to say more but gives up after ten seconds of silence. “Anyway, I doubt Vittorio was too happy with my refusal but at least he didn’t grab me by the neck and drag me to the altar the way my father would have. I think he’s abandoned the quest to push me into a wedding dress.”

I wouldn’t bet on it. Vittorio Messina is one cagey bastard and he’s not used to taking no for an answer.

“What is it you want to do, Sabrina?” I ask as she flips the lid of her laptop open.

She stares at the blank screen and chews on the question for a minute. I wonder how often anyone bothers to ask her about her hopes and dreams.

“I want to stay in New York,” she finally says. “Finish my game design program. I want to be celebrated as the unrivaled queen of Comic-Con after writing the most popular video game on the planet and then hire my own personal pretzel cart vendor to supply endless snacks. Modest goals.”

“And that’s all you want out of life?”

This time there’s an even longer pause and I can sense she’s throwing up an invisible barrier. “No, that’s not all I want, Monte Carlo. But the rest is too intensely personal to discuss with some absurdly hot pseudo-friend in the middle of the night and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your guesses to yourself.”

“You think I’m hot?” I say, cracking a grin.

She sends over a disgusted look. “Is that the only part you heard?”

“It’s the part that stood out.”

“You know you’re hot. But I hesitate to inflate your ego any more or there won’t be room for all of us in this car.”

I huff out some laughter and the cocky smile remains on my face.

Yes, I’m aware that I’m above average. And yes, I recognize that Sabrina is also aware of this. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve caught her sneaking hungry glances at my arms and chest when she thinks she’s being sly.

But she doesn’t need to worry about me pushing to dissect this topic in detail. It’s a dangerous one. Particularly when we’re facing the prospect of a couple of days alone together on the road.

Sabrina, satisfied that the conversation is over, begins clacking away on the keyboard. When I peek at her screen, all I see are endless lines of rapidly evolving computer code that make as much sense to me as ancient Greek. Yet there’s no denying how cute Sabrina is when she’s concentrating. She tucks her soft brown hair behind her ears and presses her lips together as her fingers fly over the keyboard. It takes some willpower to drag my eyes away from her and keep them on the road.

We’ve made good time and when we reach Pittsburgh we stop at a twenty-four-hour diner located beside a gas station. Sabrina is pleased when she finds bagels on the menu but then she frowns when she hears that all I’m ordering is a pot of coffee.

“You need to eat,” she objects.

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” I point out. “Not hungry.”

“He’ll take the Frittata Florentine,” Sabrina says and passes the dingy laminated menu to the frazzled waitress. “It’s his favorite breakfast.”

“Uh huh,” grunts the waitress and scribbles furiously on a palm-sized notepad before taking off in squeaky white sneakers.

The coffee arrives within a minute, along with Sabrina’s order of hot chocolate, which is topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry.

“How do you know what my favorite breakfast is?” I ask as I shake a sugar packet into my coffee.

“Sal,” she explains. “Your dad loves talking about you. He says you can cook too, you and Nico both.”

“That’s sort of inevitable when you start working in your family’s restaurant in grade school.” I stir my coffee with slow strokes of the spoon and watch her pluck the cherry stem out of the mound of whipped cream.

She looks up, notices how my eyes are inspecting her every move, and breaks into a sweet smile as I lift the ceramic mug to my lips. “How would you like to eat my cherry, Monte?”

And that’s the story of how I nearly choked to death on a mouthful of coffee in a downscale Pittsburgh diner at three in the morning.

Sabrina flags down the waitress and asks for a glass of water. She also hands me a napkin to fix the fact that I’ve spit my drink all over the table.

That’s the thing about Sabrina. All too often she comes across as na?ve and innocent and all you want to do is shield her from every sicko in the universe. Then with no warning she’ll pop up like a defective Jack-In-The-Box and say something so outrageous you nearly drown in your own coffee.

Right now she is clearly proud of her accomplishment. She’s smirking as she sets the cherry down on a napkin and then sips her hot chocolate through a straw while I mop up spilled coffee and try to collect my dignity.

I have no clue whether or not she was really implying that she’s a virgin. Sabrina’s dating history is a bit murky. One time I asked Nico if he’d ever seen her out with anyone. He had to think about it before remembering that a while back she’d been hanging around with some tech bro fuckboy but that’s all he knew. Luca would probably know more but I can’t ask without raising suspicions about why I’m so interested in the answer. All I have to work with is what I’ve seen for myself.

Back in the days when I was on call to transport Sabrina to her destination of choice, I had plenty of time to observe the way she interacts with other people. Men notice Sabrina everywhere she goes. She’s often oblivious to just how much attention she gets. But it is obvious that she has plenty of interest in the opposite sex. It’s what she does with this interest that’s still kind of a puzzle to me. I’ve seen her check out guys very openly but then get all timid and back away the second they made any kind of a move.

Whatever the case, she’s all talk. She makes these teasing sexual comments around me because she knows she can get away with it. I wonder what she’d do if I called her bluff. Sometimes the temptation is so strong I can almost taste the thrill of crossing the line.

In all honesty, there is nothing I’d enjoy more than burying my cock to the hilt inside her hot body as she writhes underneath me and loses her fucking mind.

Meanwhile, Sabrina cheerfully sips her hot chocolate and smiles at the waitress when her bagel arrives. She would never guess that I’m over here grappling with a colossal hard on and picturing the way her tits would bounce while I dicked her for all I’m worth.

My plate lands in front of me as well and I have to admit, I’m suddenly starving and grateful to have the food. It turns out that a gangster brawl, an all-night road trip and constant sexual tension is the recipe for working up an appetite. I dig into my food without delay and I’m already almost finished when Sabrina’s phone pings with a message.

She squints at the screen. “Uh oh. Anni is awake and texting.” She presses a button, holds the phone up to her ear and shoots me an anxious look.

Annalisa Barone Connelly is nothing like either of her sisters. While Daisy is easygoing to the point of being ditzy and Sabrina is full of sweetness and mischief, Anni was always known as a hellcat. She’s fanatically protective of her sisters and tough to please. Getting on her good side takes some work. However, marriage to Luca seems to have mellowed her and we’re friendly now. I hope that’s not about to change.

From Sabrina’s end of the phone conversation, it sounds like Anni is primarily concerned with Sabrina’s safety and nothing else.

“I’m fine,” Sabrina says for about the fifth time. “Yes, I promise. Yes, I’m eating right now. No, I haven’t told Mama yet. Maybe that can wait until I get to Colorado.”

Her eyes flicker to me and she scrunches up her nose. “He’s right here.” She passes the phone over with a wince of apology. “She wants to talk to you.”

I finish the bite of food in my mouth and take another swallow of coffee before accepting the phone. “Hey there, Anni.”

She doesn’t waste time being polite. “What the hell was my little sister doing at a mob convention, Monte?”

“Not a convention. It was a card game at Gino’s. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have let her go. It was too dangerous. I’m sorry.”

The quick apology seems to take the edge off Anni’s anger and her voice turns worried. “Is she really okay?”

“Seems to be. She’s eating a bagel and hanging on every word I say, as usual.”

Sabrina raises her right hand, slowly extends her middle finger and glares. I give her a wink. She drops her hand and looks away with a blush.

“All right,” Anni says with a sigh. “Let us know if anything changes.”

“I will. We’ll be back on the road in a few minutes. I promise to deliver your sister safely to your doorstep.”

“Hey, Monte?”

“Yeah?”

“I really wish you’d killed that fucker, although I guess it’s better that you didn’t.”

“Right,” I snort. “I’ll take care of her, Anni. I swear.”

“I believe you. But I’ve got some breastfeeding to do so let me talk to my sister again for a minute.”

I pass the phone back to Sabrina. Once more she reassures Anni that all is well.

“And kiss sweet little Janie for me. Tell her Auntie Sabrina loves her so much and can’t wait to hold her.” She gets a little misty-eyed as she says, “I love you too, Anni. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll see you soon.”

Sabrina has a wistful smile on her face as the connection cuts off. She immediately scrolls through her phone and gazes lovingly at a photo of her baby niece.

“How long until we get to Colorado?” she asks without taking her eyes off the photo.

“Two days,” I estimate. “We’ll have to stop and sleep at some point.”

She looks up with a frown. “Maybe we ought to do that now. “

“Nah. I’ve got at least six hours of energy left. Let’s power through.”

“Are you sure? You look like you might pass out.”

“I’m not going to pass out.”

“You have deep circles of exhaustion under your eyes.”

“It’s just the lighting in here.”

Hastily, I fork up the last bites on my plate, withdraw more than enough cash from my wallet to cover the bill, and throw it on the table.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“I’m not finished with my bagel.”

“Take it with you.”

“Can we get some snacks at the gas station?”

“Anything you want.”

“We should probably get some drinks too.”

“Fine.” I double tap the surface of the table. “Come on. The road awaits.”

She doesn’t move. “And I need more tampons. I left my other box in your bathroom.”

OH MY FUCKING GOD!

“I’ll buy you as many tampons as your little heart desires. Now can we leave?”

Finally, she wraps her half eaten bagel in a napkin, gathers her backpack, and stands. “I’m ready.”

“Great. Ladies first.”

She’s already walking away when I notice she’s left behind the maraschino cherry she offered me earlier. I grab it, bite the meat off the stem and crush it to sweet pulp between my teeth as I stare at Sabrina’s luscious round ass.

What can I say? I happen to like the taste of cherries.

Once the car is gassed up and Sabrina has wasted twenty minutes in the restroom because she’s decided to change her outfit and I’ve been loaded down with bags containing her latest purchases, we are at last ready to make some more road trip progress.

Sabrina decides that she’s tired enough to take a nap after all but would prefer to sleep in the passenger seat rather than stretch out in the back. An elaborate nesting process follows until she’s finally comfortable enough to settle down with my pillow and blanket.

“Sweet dreams, Monte Carlo,” she says and shuts her eyes.

I floor the accelerator upon returning to the highway. The engine hiccups but keeps moving. “I won’t be dreaming. You will.”

“Okay.” She yawns and burrows deeper into my pillow. “Monte?”

I heave out a thick sigh. “What is it now?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she says in a soft voice, her eyes still closed.

My heart performs a backflip and squeezes the air out of my lungs. I switch the volume of the radio to a low murmur so she can sleep and turn my full concentration to staying awake and on the road.

When the sky begins to pinken with the approach of sunrise, Sabrina is still sound asleep. I know she’s not just resting her eyes because there’s no way she could possibly stand to be quiet for this long if she was awake.

I glance over to find that the blanket has slipped, exposing a bare shoulder and the slightly displaced strap of a purple tank top. Layers of thick brown hair are fanned out over the pillow and her lips are slightly parted.

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

She deserves the chance to keep resting for as long as she can. My right hand reaches over and carefully tucks the blanket around her body where it belongs. Before withdrawing, I give into the compulsion to gently run the back of my knuckle across her soft cheek.

Tenderness and lust instantly collide, wreaking havoc.

Fuck.

One pitfall of driving a classic vehicle is that there’s no cruise control to keep the ride smooth when I’m forced to adjust a sudden erection that strains against the confines of my jeans. A minor feat of gymnastics is required to give my dick some breathing room without veering off the road.

With that mission accomplished, I cut my gaze back to Sabrina to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly.

She is. Like an angel.

However, smutty thoughts won’t stop creeping into the edges of my mind so I force myself to quit staring at her.

Less than eight hours have passed since I gave a volatile psycho a near death experience in a pizzeria basement.

But as Sabrina stirs, breathing out a soft sigh in her sleep while my dick automatically flexes in response, I understand that the Lenny Lombardo situation isn’t the only reason why I’m in trouble.

Really big fucking trouble.