Page 74 of Texting My Mafia Boss

“We need Bastian alive.”

“We don’t,” I growl. “That would just be a bonus. Let’s go.”

My heartbeat is steady somehow. My nerves are calm. In this strange battle high, I think about the fact that this is one of the perks of this life. This calm. This certainty. If I had lived any other life, I wouldn’t be able to save my woman and child now.

I nod to Mark. He knows that means to silently count to three.

On three, we emerge from cover. Two of the men are looking at us. One is on his knees, fiddling with the vault’s lock. Bastian has his back to us, taunting.

The two men drop like boneless sacks. The third slumps against the vault, kissing his brains. Bastian spins, raising his gun. I send a spray through his arm. He screams then drops the gun, falling onto his ass and crawling back toward the vault.

“Ettore, stop, my father?—”

I run forward three steps and then kick him so hard in the head I feel one of my toes break. I don’t give a fuck. I kick him again, and he slumps sideways, twitching. I take a few steps back, ready to do it again, but Mark rushes at me. He pulls me away from him.

“Enough.”

“He doesn’t deserve to breathe!”

“Agreed,” Mark says. “But enough.”

I shrug him off, my ears ringing from the gunfire.

On the floor, Bastian rolls onto his back, his face splitting into a bloody, delirious smile. “We could have something,” he moans.

I raise my gun. “What did you fucking say?”

“It’s… so easy,” he wheezes. “Me and your little… We could be a real couple. We could have something special.”

“Ettore!”Mark roars.

I raise my gun and pull the trigger.

Click.

“Lucky bastard,” I grunt, throwing the gun to the ground. “Get him out of here. Secure the estate. Rally the troops. I’m taking my girls someplace safe.”

CHAPTER 27

MARA

Isit in the back of the car, Sylvie in my lap. She’s twisted toward me, her face buried in my chest. All that bravery, drama, and vicious threats have sapped the energy from her. She feels deflated now, like she wants to sleep for a million years. Livia sits next to me, her hands in her lap.

Ettore drives us out of the city, wearing nothing but his undershirt. He’s tried to quickly clean the blood from his hands and face, but specks remain. I’ve never seen him like this, furious to the point of looking as if he’s ready to blow steam out of his ears. He stares at the road like he wishes he could fight it somehow.

“You did well back there,” Livia says softly, reaching over and squeezing my hand. She gently caresses Sylvie’s hair. “And you did, angel. So well.”

“Thank you,” I say, voice hoarse.

“Thank you, Livia,” Sylvie murmurs into my chest, so polite even in the circumstances.

“You all did well,” Ettore says, his voice hard. “But that never should have happened. You never should’ve seen any of that.”

“She did more than see,” Livia murmurs. “She saved Sylvie.”

Ettore looks in the rearview, eyes glistening with emotion. “Yeah?”

“There was a man, Daddy,” Sylvie murmurs. “He had a chef’s uniform and he said he was going to help me do the maze but then he had a knife and he threw me on the ground and Mara punched him really hard in the face and carried me away.”