His Mafia Queen

An Unexplained Disappearance

GABRIEL

I allow a few days to pass. Let Riley calm down, let things settle. Part of me is waiting for Beckett to surface, but he doesn't.

Slick fuck.

It's seven at night before we're scheduled to fly to Boston to visit Riley's family, I kiss her on the temple.

"Babe," I announce. We're at her condo. She's got the contents of her entire closet on the bed, trying to decide what to bring for our trip north. "I just got a text. Gotta go with Andre to take care of something."

She looks up, holding a little sparkly silver strip of fabric. "Okay. But Gabriel? Do you think I should bring this dress, or is it too slutty for Boston?"

My mouth opens and I freeze. I swear to fuck I can handle all manner and sorts of mafia business without blinking an eye. But when she asks me questions like this, I seize up. "Babe, I have no idea. You look gorgeous in anything. Whatever you feel comfortable with."

She huffs indignantly. "You're no help."

"Why don't you model it for me later? Leave out two, and show me when I get back. I won't be long, okay?"

She looks up from her pile of clothes. "You just want to see me shake my ass."

"This is true."

We smooch and tickle and laugh, then finally I kiss her for real. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Be careful. Where's Andre, anyway?"

"I'm meeting him there." How the lies slip off my tongue...

My drive to Beckett's bookstore isn't long. I almost feel terrible about lying to Riley, but this is something I need to do. There's no way I can let this man walk the streets of my city, threatening Riley or other women.

I still haven't discovered whether he's fixated on Riley because of her father's ties to his uncle, or if he's just a garden variety stalker. Either way, he's going to hear from me tonight, and it's not going to be pleasant for him.

For me, it will be fucking amazing. My rage toward him has simmered for days and I need a release. Not much inspires me to be this violent, but hurting women definitely does.

"You know who I fucking hate the most?" I say to my bodyguards in the front seats.

"Who, boss?"

"Fuckers who stalk and beat women and kids. I don't think there are lower pieces of shit than that."

"Gotta agree with you there."

"We're visiting a guy who is stalking Riley tonight."

The bodyguard in the passenger seat twists around, fear on his face. "Don Greco, I'm shocked you haven't bombed his fucking house by now."

The driver guffaws. "It's going to be an interesting night."

"Yes, it is," I say with a grin. My guys know me well.

Five minutes later, we pull into the parking lot behind the building that houses Beckett's bookstore. The three of us climb out, looking like regular guys who are going to the coffee shop for an evening libation.

Well, two guys who are former wrestlers, and me. Still, we're dressed casually, not like mafiosos from central casting. This is Florida after all, where the rules are relaxed.

We're all wearing shades as we walk up to the bookstore door. One of the bodyguards goes to pull it open, but it doesn't budge.

"It said the hours were until seven-thirty," he says.