Page 76 of Diary of a Mafia Princess

Carlos grinned. “There’ll be so much more than money, if you’re as good as I think you are. There’ll be overseas trips. Expensive clothes. Parties. Women begging to bounce on your cock. Just you wait. If all you know is dirty underground fighting in Saint View, I’m about to open a whole new world.”

I left the car without saying that the only world I cared about being in was one that revolved around Nyah. If I had to fight for Carlos Guerra in order to be near her, then that was exactly what I was going to do.

24

LYNX

Dear Diary,

The pregnancy checklist includes vitamins, books, pillows, belly bands…and dick.

The clubhouse was never quiet. It was one of the things I liked most about living there. I didn’t want quiet. Wasn’t used to it. It was what I’d noticed most since getting out of prison. I’d tried living alone, but the silence was deafening.

More than that, it was lonely.

As shit as prison was, lonely was the one thing it hadn’t been. I’d grown accustomed to always having noise around me and someone to talk to. Even at night, the silence was never complete. There had always been a TV playing infomercials or someone snoring.

The Saint View Slayers’ clubhouse was much the same.

Most of the rooms here were taken up by prospects, like myself, guys with not much else going on outside these four walls. Some of them had jobs they went to most days, but come knock-off time, they were back here, so there was always someone to have a beer with.

The patched-in members were around a lot too, even if most didn’t live here. Hawk had a house inside the complex, though it was a few minutes’ walk from the clubhouse where my room was. War and Reaper and Fang all lived with their families in houses outside the Slayers’ fences, but they were here most days, attending to club business.

And then there were family days.

Like today.

Where the clubhouse was more of a zoo, with people everywhere and kids running around, hopped up on too much sugar.

I loved it.

It sure as fuck beat the silence. I got enough of that when I was standing outside Nyah’s bedroom door.

Reaper flopped down onto the outdoor couch beside me, passing me a beer. He clinked it with mine, and we both took a sip.

I glanced at him. I could only see his profile, but there was no denying the happiness in his expression. It was there in the crinkle at his eye and the slight upturn of his mouth in between swallows of his drink.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Your happiness is disgusting. You know that, right?”

He leaned back against the couch cushions and crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his opposite knee. “Yeah, I know. But, man, I can’t fucking help it. Look at what I have. My woman pregnant, two adopted kids who feel like they were always supposed to be mine. A man I had no idea I wanted but now can’t fucking get enough of.” He squinted at X. “And…X, who is apparently having a cartwheel competition with eight-year-olds…” He cupped his hands around his mouth to make his voice travel farther. “X, you flunked out of gymnastics when you were eleven. If you snap your ACL or something, I’m not taking you to the hospital again!”

X waved back to him. “Don’t worry! I’m a professional!” His gaze shifted to me. “Was thinking about doing one of these on the ice at our next game, Coach!”

He did the most awkward, gangly cartwheel I’d ever seen, his foot coming about an inch short of kicking a little dark-haired girl, whose name I couldn’t remember, in the face.

Him doing that in skates seemed like a recipe for disaster. All I could imagine was the metal blades, slicing through the air like out-of-control knives. “Uh, we might have to clear that with our insurance first.”

X shrugged, breathing hard from the exertion of turning his thirty-something-year-old body upside down over and over. “That’s okay. It’ll give me time to work out how I’m going to keep my head on.”

He meant the head of his mascot costume, a giant sequined viper that kind of looked more like a sparkly dildo, since X and Reaper’s woman, Violet, had handmade the entire thing, and neither of them were particularly crafty.

Reaper sniggered. “I still can’t believe you’re coaching his team.”

“His” team was probably putting it a little generously, since X didn’t actually play for it. But he had somehow talked his way into being their mascot, and I certainly didn’t have the heart to tell him he couldn’t, even though the man could barely stay upright on his skates.

“I can’t either. I have to run training this week. I have no idea what I’m fucking doing. And the Guerras are going to expect a win right out of the gate, I’m sure.”

Reaper frowned. “That’s unreasonable. The team sucks.”