Page 113 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption-

With that, I sit in the back of the church watching people come and go, the package in my back pocket burning.

I pull it out. It’s in an envelope, Harry’s name on the front in flowery writing. And from the feel of it, there is more than just a letter inside. Maybe some photos. But I don’t think any of it will solve my mystery.

I use my finger to open a corner of the envelope, knowing Father Luigi trusted me to give it to her. I’m not sure why he kept it until now, or what it’s about. Maybe it’s partof fucking blood marriages. I don’t know. The research I did never included mysterious envelopes.

But before I can get it open, the person I should be giving it to approaches and I slide it in the pocket of my jacket.

I didn’t park right outside the church, so I take her hand, pretending she wants me to, and we walk over to the next block.

There’s a moment where her fingers curl around mine, and she moves closer, making something deep in me swell, like we’re connected and she needs that protection.

Shit, maybe she feels like we’re being watched.

I glance around, but it’s just the usual New Yorkers rushing past, caught up in their own worlds.

She shifts closer to me, her hands gripping mine like we’re something more, something special, something that just is.

Something connected.

But then she tugs at her hand. I tighten mine in response.

“I’m not going to run,” she mutters, her anger back.

So’s mine. “Right, because I’m not letting that happen.”

We reach the car and I open her door, giving her a gentle nudge when she doesn’t move.

With a big sigh, she slides in on the passenger seat. Despite the anger, I fight my smile.

Back at the brownstone, I park and drag her out and up the steps to the front door as the bodyguard leaves with Mikey. One will take his position in a car down the street, and I assume Mikey will head back to Queens to deal with operations there.

I hustle Harry inside and down to my suite.

That’s when she explodes. “If I have to have a bodyguard, why don’t we call it like it is and make it you? After all, I’m your property, you should protect it.”

I need her to yell at me. I need to feel her anger because sexwasn’t enough. I need more. I’m drowning in lies and guilt, and I deserve everything she spews at me.

I have to figure out who’s trying to hurt her and extinguish that threat before it’s too late. And then when it’s all over and she’s safe, I need her to run, far away from me because I’m not for her.

I’m not.

Am I?

Her words hit my senses. I glare at her.

“What the actual fuck do you think I’ve been doing? Taking up needlepoint in my spare time? Right from the start, my brothers and I have been trying to piece this shit show together, to find out why you’re in danger, to see if Salvatore?—”

“What about Londyn?” she asks.

“Who the fuck is Londyn?”

“In Central Park? The girl Salvatore was all over?”

Fuck, the literal underage teen he was making out with. I spread my hands. “How do I fix that? Kill him?”

For a moment she looks like she’s about to say yes. But then she slaps a hand over her mouth and takes a step back.

I rub one of mine over the back of my neck. “She’s mafia, Harry. Her parents know, they have to, and they’re letting it happen. It was disgusting, but I’ll bet that’s as far as they let it go for now. They’ll want a white virgin wedding.”