His Mafia Queen

Blood of a Different Kind

Gabriel

If the woman standing before me were anyone but Riley, I'd walk out. I'd declare that I didn't need this bullshit, say that my empire was more important than another person's opinion, claim that I don't owe anyone the truth, or other fucking thing.

But it's Riley, who has become the most important person in my life other than my blood family, and she's glaring at me while standing in the middle of her living room. I have to make this right. Soothe her so she can get some sleep.

Protect her from evil.

I have a deep urge to reach out and touch her hair, to apologize for my part in her anguish, yet I stay silent. I'm captivated by the contrast between her soft blonde locks and the distress in her eyes. I'm responsible for her pain, yet I can't bring myself to speak up. For the first time in my life, I feel like shit about my business and my world.

"Well?" she demands. "What's it going to be? Are you going to be honest with me or are you leaving. Make up your mind. I can either go back to bed or brew some coffee so we can talk. Your choice, dude."

I want to smile at her charming, direct, no-nonsense attitude, but I refrain because I don't want to upset her more. I take a deep breath. "I think you'd better brew that coffee."

She moves toward the small kitchen slowly, probably because it's been a hellish night and I woke her up. Since I get the impression that she doesn't want me to talk about anything but the truth, I keep quiet until she carries in two mugs of black coffee and sets one in front of me.

My stomach churns as my eyes follow her curvy body. She takes the chair opposite me instead of joining me on the sofa. It's a subtle rejection, and it feels like a soft kick in the gut. Do I deserve this? I have no idea, but I suspect I do.

"Do you want the short answer or the long one?"

She rolls her eyes. "Both."

"Fine." This is not what I wanted to do this evening. "We're at war with the Russians."

She scrunches up her face and looks around. "Like...Putin? What do you mean?"

"No. The Russian mafia. It's a loose group of them out of Atlanta. They're trying to destabilize our business interests here in Florida, have been for a few years. Now that there's a vacuum of power in Jacksonville after Donnie died, the Russians are trying to encroach on our turf. On my turf, specifically."

Riley stills, holding her coffee in mid-air. Her luscious mouth is slightly parted and she blinks several times.

"This... sounds like a movie. A mafia movie," she finally says.

I chuckle, although I'm not feeling particularly hilarious. "It's the worst fucking movie. One I'm stuck in the middle of. And unfortunately, the only way out is to fight."

She takes what I just said in for a moment and then sets down her coffee. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"

I press the heels of my hands into my forehead. "My business partner in Miami—"

"Wait." She frowns. "You never told me you have a business partner."

Oh, my sweet summer child. "Not in the traditional sense, Riley. He's actually another member of... our organization. Someone with the same, ah, rank as me. We're assessing the situation. Recently discovered that Russians had gotten to some of our, er, employees."

"Why aren't you speaking in plain, basic terms so I'll understand?" Her eyes narrow.

"I tried to explain this to you before. I don't want to open you up to liability. If I were ever indicted, the feds could come after you and put the screws to you. To testify against me." I look into my coffee mug. "There's only one way to fix that, of course."