Page 8 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

Kirsten

S omeone shot at me, could have killed me tonight…and I don’t have anyone to call and tell.

The guard was right. There’s no point in calling the police now to report it, and I don’t want to deal with the public knowing someone tried to kill me.

It could’ve been random, though.

But I doubt it.

I could’ve died right there in that alley while Natalie was fooling around with some guy, if not for the guard pushing me down.

The way he dove and covered me, it reminds me of how Creed Ferraro did the same thing in the SWAT team’s body cam footage of the club raid.

Why that stood out to me, I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t expect the boss of all mob bosses in the city to protect someone rather than himself without a second thought.

It was like instinct for him to protect the woman.

A woman who matches the description of his wife he married a few days later, even though I couldn’t find a single witness report of the woman.

Nobody has ever risked themselves for me before, which makes me feel indebted to the guard.

My whole life has been spent going to law school and prosecuting criminals because I wanted to keep people safe, but I don’t know if I could’ve done what he did in the heat of the moment like that.

I froze up and was unable to think or move. I felt like a fool.

And now I know first-hand how the victims I talk to every day feel. Being that vulnerable, that close to dead, was scary.

I should report the shooting and see if there’s surveillance video of the gunman because I have no doubt it was someone sent by the Ferraros.

Will they try again or give up now that he failed?

Reaching into the drawer beside my bed that I’ve spent the day in, I pull out my handgun and check to make sure it’s loaded.

I have a feeling I’m going to need it.

Then I cave and grab my phone to call Bryan, the only person who’d give a shit about the shooting. He doesn’t answer, though, and it goes to voicemail. I end the call rather than leave a message, unsure what I’d even say.

If I told him what happened, he’d probably insist on coming over, staying by my side, and put himself in danger.

I can’t let him do that. Not just because he could get hurt, but because I don’t want him to get hurt for me, since I don’t love him and know I never will.

Tristan

“Tell Creed I need to see him,” I inform the two guards in black standing watch outside the Park Avenue penthouse door. It’s early as shit but I don’t care. I haven’t slept any and know I won’t until we have this meeting.

“He’s still asleep. Come back later,” Mario huffs.

“I’m his fucking blood, and I need to speak to him now!” Did Creed tell the guards not to let me in because he knew I’d be pissed about his failed hit on the DA?

Mario and Julian look at each other, and then Mario rolls his eyes before placing a call on his phone.

He winces when Creed answers. “Yes, sir, I know it’s early, but Tristan is demanding to see you right now.

” The guy waits and then nods. “Yes, sir. He said to send him in, but you’re to wait in the living room. ”

“Where else would I wait?” I huff as he unlocks and opens the door for me.

I’m too worked up to sit down, though. I’ve had so much coffee, I want to peel my skin off.

But I couldn’t sleep after everything was ruined last night and Kirsten was almost killed.

So, I sat outside her building until the sun came up, wide awake.

About two minutes later, Creed strolls into the open space wearing his pajama pants and no shirt. “What is it?”

“Get Zara in here, Dre and Stella are on their way over too.”

“What the hell, Tristan? Why are you in my house screaming at me on a Saturday morning before I get rid of my morning wood?”

There’s a knock instead of a call for these visitors, since the guards know he’s already awake. Creed stomps over, and I hear the door open a moment later.

“What’s this about?” Andre asks Creed.

“No idea. But it better be life and death, or I’m going to murder our dear cousin.”

“That makes two of us,” Dre says before he appears in the living room with his wife right behind him. Stella looks a little green and even more annoyed than usual.

And not that I planned to look, but her boobs are gigantic even in the oversized sweatshirt she thinks will hide them.

Aw, shit. Big tits and looking like she’s gonna vomit can only mean one thing.

I’ve seen enough pregnant chicks to know she’s knocked up.

Not that any of them were pregnant by me.

That’s the one good thing about being celibate for the past few weeks, not having to worry about an accidental pregnancy.

“Are you going to stop staring at my wife’s tits and tell us what this is about or what?” Dre asks, snapping me out of my assessment.

“Just as soon as Zara joins us.”

“She’s obscenely pregnant,” Creed huffs. “I’m not waking her up.”

“Then I guess we’ll all have to wait —”

“Did you just call me obscenely fat?” her voice asks before she appears in the living room wearing a robe that matches Creed’s pajama pants. How disgustingly cute.

“No, micetta mia . I meant you’re very, very pregnant and need your rest.”

“Oh, stuff it up your ass.” Zara takes a seat on the sofa and tucks her feet underneath her. “Hi, Stella, Dre. I’d offer you breakfast, but we give our cook the weekends off,” she remarks with a glare at me.

“Fine, I’ll make this quick. Which one of you sent the shitty, unprofessional assassin after the DA last night?” The four of them all look at each other, but none look surprised by the news. “Goddammit! I told you to give me until Monday!”

“It wasn’t me.” Creed takes a seat next to Zara and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Is my wife getting impatient?”

Zara shakes her head. “I’m pregnant. Killing someone innocent would probably curse our child. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take with karma.”

“Dre?” Creed asks. Our cousin, who is determined to get out of the charges to keep his law license, shakes his head.

“I’d prefer to take matters into my own hands if I were that desperate. Which I’m not.” He shrugs and looks at Stella with a tilt of his head, no doubt finally noticing her greenish hue or big boobs. “Anything you want to tell us, mia dolce vipera ?”

Ugh, these cheesy Italian nicknames my cousins came up with for their significant others makes me want to barf. I give a fake gag, and Stella’s palm covers her mouth. “I need to use your restroom,” she mumbles before she runs off.

“Sorry.” Dre cringes. “I think she’s got some sort of stomach virus.”

“Poor thing,” Zara remarks but doesn’t look concerned about catching this so-called nasty virus. “I’ll go check on her and ask if she hired the hitman.”

“A shitty hitman who missed by a mile!” I call out as she follows the newly pregnant woman. “It was Stella,” I assert, and Dre’s face turns an awful reddish-purple shade.

“Do you want me to kick your ass? Because my wife isn’t a —” He stops short of saying she’s not a killer because we all know that’d be a lie.

Stella has killed — Creed’s father in fact.

Not that the asshole didn’t deserve her wrath after assaulting her when she was intoxicated, but it still required careful planning and carrying out his death in a way that wouldn’t fall back on her.

Running his fingers through his dark hair, Dre says, “Unless Saint gave her the money, it wasn’t Stella. We share a checking account, so I would’ve noticed if she withdrew a ton of cash.”

I want to blurt out that’s she’s obviously pregnant and would do anything to keep her baby daddy out of prison, but that’d be an asshole move since she hasn’t told him the news.

I’m guessing Stella knows if she did, it’d send Dre off the deep end and into taking out Kirsten on his own.

Stella probably thought she was doing him a favor when she hired the piece of shit. Or either Saint hired him for her…

I pace in front of the view of the wintery, sleepy city until the women join us again. Stella’s color has returned to normal, so I ask her, “Did you or your brother send the assassin?”

“No! Jesus. I thought you were handling it this weekend. Isn’t that what you promised?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then why would I go through all the trouble to take her out if you could accomplish the same goal while letting her stay alive?”

Okay, so the viper sounds sincere. But that doesn’t eliminate her twin. “Would Saint have any reason to go after Kirsten?” I ask before pointedly glancing down at her still flat belly. Stella’s lips part in a gasp then looks to Dre who seems none the wiser. Jesus. Is he blind?

“No, Saint has his hands full with trying to get my sister back from the Sannas.”

Right. That drama.

“Fine, so if it wasn’t any of you, then who the hell was it?”

“What actually happened?” Creed asks. “Start from the beginning.”

“A man started shooting at her in an alley last night. He missed. I chased him. He tried to climb over a dumpster, and when I grabbed him, he fell on his head. That was the end of our Q and A session.”

“You killed him?” Zara whispers.

“He killed himself by not putting a hand out when he fell on his damn head. I tossed him in a dumpster and covered him with garbage afterward.”

“Ew,” Stella says right before she takes off to the bathroom again, yelling, “Sorry!”

Zara bites her lip to keep from smiling.

“I’ll go check on her this time,” Dre says. “I don’t know why she won’t let me take her to the emergency room or an urgent care. She’s been puking her guts out all week!”

Once he’s gone, Creed whispers to Zara, “Is she pregnant?” Zara nods and puts her finger to her lips, narrowing her eyes at her husband and then me.

“I won’t say a word. I figured it out as soon as she walked in the door,” I tell her. “Dre is an idiot.”

“She’s waiting to tell him after the charges are dismissed. Which is why you need to take care of that like yesterday,” Zara huffs.

“I was going to take care of it yesterday, and then bullets started flying!”

Creed sighs and scrubs his palm down his face. “I’ll be glad when this nightmare is over, and things can go back to normal.”

“Me too,” Zara agrees with her hand resting on her bump. “Maybe Dre just doesn’t want to see what’s right in front of him, knowing what the future may hold…”

“No, he’s completely clueless,” Creed mutters. “And it’s best if he stays that way so he doesn’t do anything rash.”

“Exactly,” Zara concurs, giving me an arched eyebrow heavy with disappointment.

“Fine, it was none of you, so I’ll go get back to work,” I tell them and start for the door. “But if I find out one of you lied to me, there will be hell to pay.” I point a finger at the two of them in warning.

I need to call Natalie and see if she can figure out a way to get Kirsten’s fine ass back to the club tonight.

Kirsten

“Hey, where did you disappear to last night?” Natalie asks when she Facetimes me Saturday afternoon. I debate whether to tell her the truth. “Did you end up with the hot guard in a private room?”

“No. After you disappeared into a private room, I went outside to get some air, and he followed me.”

“Oh. Did you take him home with you?” she asks excitedly.

“No. There was someone else in the alley and he…He fired a gun at us. At me. The guard jumped on me and then chased after him.”

“Oh,” she says, wide eyes blinking in surprise. “He jumped in front of gunfire to protect you?” It sounds like she’s having a hard time believing that, but it’s exactly what happened.

“Yes. And then when he came back, he helped me get my things and sent me home in a taxi.”

“Wow. Sounds like a real knight in shining armor.” Her voice sounds off, as if she’s angry that the guard was kind to me. “Are you going to go back and see him?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I mean, I feel like I should find some way to thank him,” I tell her, meaning not just for keeping me safe but for the much-needed orgasms.

“There is one thing every man wants and would never refuse…”

“What’s that?”

“A woman on her knees.”

“Oh. Right.”

I’ve given my fair share of oral sex in college and occasionally with Bryan when he tries to refuse a round of office sex.

It never fails to make him cave. But with a stranger, that demanding stranger who pushed me against a wall, spanked me for not following his orders, and then fingered me in front of a room full of people before saving my life?

Okay, yeah, I guess I wouldn’t mind showing him my appreciation in such a way or seeing his dick that felt enormous and having a little taste.

After all, he might’ve been right about us being perfect for each other.

In exchange for showing him my thanks, maybe he’ll agree to restrain me the way I’ve always wanted so I’m completely at his mercy.

Being in charge all day every day is a lot to handle.

It’d be nice to have a few minutes to surrender my tightly held control to someone else.

And while I may not know the guard, who can I trust more than a man who risked his life to save mine?

“Okay, I’ll go back tonight and see if he’s working.”

“Oh, he will be,” Natalie replies with what sounds like a disappointed sigh. “I can almost bet he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Do you want me to go with you?”

“Ah, yeah, sure. If you don’t mind?”

“Meet you there at nine?”

“Perfect.”

I don’t tell Natalie I barely slept last night, worried about someone else coming after me.

There’s no safer place I can think of without alerting the media than with the massive, muscular guard. Which is exactly where I plan to be tonight.