Page 160 of Vows of a Mobster

“Go get your mother, boy,” Declan Sr. issued an order and his son went off to fetch his mother.

I certainly hoped that meant he’d get my daughter too. I had no interest in seeing anyone else.

I heard commotion and men shouting voices. I tensed looking around. The muffled voices sounded close but I couldn’t quite determine where they were coming.

“You open that fucking wall or I’ll kill every single one of you.” That was Mateo’s voice. I’d recognize it anywhere. “My wife and daughter better be unharmed, or I’ll torture you for the rest of your miserable life.”

The wall-door we came through just a few minutes ago opened, and the first man I saw was my husband. Without thinking, I ran to him and threw myself on him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Mateo,” I buried my head into his chest.

He wrapped his left hand around my waist and pulled me tight to him, while he held a gun with his right hand.

“Amore, I told you to stay at the hospital,” he murmured, inhaling deeply. “Are you hurt?”

“No, we’re not hurt.” I shouldn’t want him here. I didn’t want him to get hurt but I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t happy he was here.

I raised my eyes to his, his eyes roaming over my face and my body. My eyes shifted behind him to find Declan and Antonio. Mateo had five more of his men with him.

I glared at Declan, disgusted and furious with him.

“Brianna, I didn’t know about this,” Declan spoke up, regret in his voice. “Believe me, I would have not allowed it.” He shifted to his father and brothers. “And I would like an explanation how in the fuck this happened without my knowledge?”

“Mommy,” Emma’s squeal had me turning around and I found my daughter running towards me. I immediately let go of Mateo and ran to her too. She threw herself into my arms. I wrapped her tighter to me and lifted her up. Mateo was right behind me, watching our back.

I was showering her with kisses, words stuck in my throat from the fear that gripped me from the moment everything went down.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” her hands smeared the tears that finally let loose.

“I was worried,” I kissed her little hand, salty with my tears. “They are happy tears now that you are with me.”

“She wasn’t feeling sick after her treatments,” Aoife spoke up, causing me to turn my head towards her.

“How could you?” My tone was accusing, angry. “She didn’t get her treatments today. Otherwise, she would have been sick and you would have made it worse for her.”

“I was prepared to care for her,” she defended herself.

“Did you ever care for a child after receiving chemo treatment?”

“No, but-”

“Then you weren’t prepared to care for her,” I hissed. “Don’t come around my family or my kid again.”

“Now, you can’t ask that of us, lass,” Declan Sr. chimed in, coming to wrap his arms around his wife. “She is ours, after all. Spitting image of our Declan.”

I blinked in confusion. My eyes darted between Declan Sr, his wife, and Declan Jr.

I shook my head. “I don’t follow,” I murmured, gazing at my husband. There was a little frown on his face too, as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

“Don’t play coy with us,” Aoife said, her eyes on Emma. “She is Declan’s. I could show you a picture of our firstborn at that age. She is the spitting image of her daddy.”

A strangled laugh escaped me. Maybe I finally lost all my sanity. Or they have lost theirs.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I muttered, clinging my daughter to my chest. “I met Declan barely a few weeks ago.” Besides, Emma was a spitting image of me, I wanted to add but I kept those words tight.

“Would you like to see his baby picture?” she offered, like that would convince me Emma was Declan’s.

I took a step back like they were both crazy, my eyes darting around the room. “I don’t need to see his picture. I swear to you, she is not his. I never met your son before.”