I considered telling her that the few times I rode in a vehicle as a child, there was no seatbelt. No airbags. Sometimes the door didn’t latch. We bounced around in an ancient machine, going too fast down mountain roads.
But this wasn’t a fight I wanted to pick with her.
Muttering, I took the seat. It was attached to U-shaped rings in the SUV. My fingers were almost too big to unhook it. I managed after the third try.
I wasn’t stupid enough to turn my back to the Italians. Which made the work of transferring the seat all the more difficult. There were metal rings between the truck back and seat, shoved deep in the cushions. Just like in the SUV. Who knew? I felt for them. The first clip angled in, flipped over, and attached. Easy. When I pulled the strap through the base of the car seat, it came up short. I gave it more slack, frowning. It should be the same as when it was hooked in the SUV just now. But somehow the strap had shrunk. Or tangled internally. Setting my jaw tight, I leaned into the truck, aware of the men behind me, their guns hidden for the moment for the child’s sake. I tugged and finagled. The strap wouldn’t budge.
Who the hell made these seats? They were stupid and should be shot.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
“Here, let me,” Poppy snapped.
She nudged me aside, placing Brady on the backseat floor of the truck. I stood back, noting how easily she’d placed the child in the clutches of a monster. Her slim hand reached intothe back of the car seat. The strap fell slack, extended, and she flicked the metal clip into the truck’s hook in seconds.
Clearly, she’d done this before.
Right then and there I made a mental promise to learn everything there was about child safety seats in vehicles. This was not going to happen again. I didn’t like feeling incompetent, especially not in front of her.
“Alright, Brady, climb up,” she said with a forced smile.
“Mama, it smells in here,” he whispered, the sound loud enough to carry.
Poppy hummed under her breath. “Yes, but we don’t make comments like that. It’s not polite.”
“Okay.” He hopped into his seat.
Poppy worked the straps around his body, buckling him in and pulling them snug. He wriggled in protest, but she was already climbing into the back beside him.
“I’ll call you!” she called to the signora right as I closed the door.
Penelope stood next to her husband, staring at me. That glare would have made a lesser man uncomfortable.
Don Mancini and I shared a look. No words were spoken. They weren’t needed.
His promised that this wasn’t over.
Mine dared him to stop me.
Only once the cavalcade of my men was safely down the drive and onto the road did I relax into my seat. No one else had left their vehicles. There hadn’t been any shots fired. That alone was a success.
Rayko, my most trusted soldier and the man who’d followed me from the Old World, sped through a yellow light. And just like that, we were safe. I leaned over to watch my son play with a toy animal. He didn’t seem at all perturbed that he was in a strange vehicle. He was calm, sleepy, but content.
The ball of fire next to him shot daggers at me with a hard look. Poppy was still hiding her unease behind anger. I found myself enjoying the sight of her already, especially since she wasn’t tiptoeing around me for the moment.
“So…you’re a mafia princess?” I drawled, meeting her accusatory glare.
Poppy let out a hiss of warning between her teeth. “I have a history, yes.”
I arched a brow. “And?”
Her lips pursed. “It’s not up for discussion.”
I chuckled. There would be time in the future for her to sing her sweet song. To tell me her secrets. I would enjoy plucking them from her, one by one.
“My house is yours,” I offered. “Whatever you need, you can have. And if something is missing, I’ll provide it.”
“How generous,” she quipped.
