Arranged Mafia Marriage

Karma

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, “it’s beginning.” He rakes his gaze across my features, “You ready for this?”

No.

No.

“Yes,” I jerk my chin.

He holds my gaze a second longer, then turns and puts the car in gear. He eases the car toward the garage door which rolls up, revealing the driveway. He revs the engine, peers through the glass as he waits…waits…

I search the driveway and what I can see of the grounds up ahead. “Shouldn’t all the shooting have attracted cops by now?”

“It would have if we’d been in London.”

“We aren’t?”

“We are on the outskirts, and the grounds are so big that there are no neighbors around for miles.”

“So, he lives close to one of the most expensive cities in the world and his estate is so big that he could literally commit murder and go undetected?”

He shoots me a glance and I raise my hands. “Just saying. I guess crime does pay, eh?”

“Does that bother you?”

“It’s your world.”

“And yours,” he points out.

“Not yet.”

“That’s the second time you’ve come up with a cryptic remark in the past twenty minutes.” He scowls.

Ahead, there’s a muffled boom, then a section of the trees catches fire. Instantly, he puts the car in gear and roars forward. A creaking sound reaches me. I peer through the windshield, then gasp. “Mika!” I point to where the tree on the side of the driveway in front of us begins to topple over. He accelerates with such speed that I am pushed back into the seat. The Mercedes leaps forward, and the tree misses the tail of the car and hits the ground. The crash seems to resound through the space. The dust from the impact flows over the car.

Mika slaps on the wipers and their rhythmic whoosh-whoosh fills the car. He keeps his foot pressed on the accelerator as he races up the driveway, past the trees that surround the house on either side.

More shots ring out, bullets pepper the sides of the car, slam into the windshield. I scream and throw up my arms, only to realize that the bullets are bouncing off the car. Each bullet embeds into the windshield, and on the glass of my door, leaving a star shaped crack on impact. More shots ring out and I flinch with each impact. I glance sideways to find Mika focused on the road ahead.

The shooting seems to go on and on, there’s a yell, then all noises fade. Except for the whoosh of the wipers, which he switches off as the car hurtles forward. Silence fills the car, for a beat, another. We continue up the driveway, and the gates to the estate loom in the distance.

“The gates are open? Was it JJ who…?” I shoot him a sideways glance in time to see him nod.

His jaw is hard and a nerve pops at his temple. His muscles seem to have turned to stone as he keeps his gaze focused forward.

Less than a mile now to the gates, three-fourths of a mile, half a mile… He leans forward as if urging the car forward with his entire being.

I draw in a breath, hold it. Twist my fingers together in front as I part my legs, push my heels into the floor of the car and brace myself. Adrenaline pours through my veins, and the blood pumps at my temples, thrums at my wrists. My heart beat ratchets up again, and this time, I don’t care. I feel the flush that stains my cheeks, that sensation of the pulse flaring to life in my stomach, between my legs, as I stare through the windshield and the scenery zips by. I am excited and turned on. I shouldn’t be, but I am.

Speed… Goddamn, I love speed, even though I’ve never had the chance to indulge in it. Not unless you count the video games I’d managed to play with one of my foster siblings. It had been only for a few months, but it had been long enough to give me a taste of what it would be like to take on an opponent, to race forward, eyes on the prize, as you mowed down anyone who dared to come in your way. As I hope Mika will do too. I shoot him another sideways glance and find his gaze completely focused on the road forward.

He presses down on the accelerator and the car seems to fly forward. Less than fifty feet to the gates… forty…now, thirty… That’s when a car shoots out from the undergrowth and onto the center of the driveway in front of the gates. Then a second car from the other side. They park nose to nose in the center.

“Cazzo!” Mika growls, and for a second, I am sure that he is going to crash into the cars, but he slams on the brakes with such speed that I am slammed against the restraint then back against the seat. A scream boils up, even as a part of me relishes the adrenaline rush that builds within me.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

Even as I turn to him Michael is already out of the car. He pulls out his gun as he fires at the man getting out of first car. Blood gushes from his chest and he drops to the ground. Michael continues to fire at the second man who’s come around from the car, then at the driver from the second car, who’s stepped out, and the other men who pour out from the second car.

He runs out of bullets, flings the gun aside, grabs another from the holster under his arm, and continues firing in such a smooth move that I blink. The men fire at him, he drops to the ground, rolls, comes up firing. It’s like a dance, a much-practiced, smooth motion which he’s rehearsed so many times, it’s a part of him. Of course, it’s a part of him. He was born into this world. The sound of bullets echoes in his cells, the scent of ammunition is steeped in his veins, this…weaving, ducking the shots that come his way, as he returns fire, taking out man after man who dares to threaten him… This is Michael at his rawest, truest, stripped-to-the-bone naked. This is Michael unadorned. Just how I like him. How I like the darkness that clings to his core. This…feeling of danger that surrounds him is what I crave, and what I worry may consume me until I can’t differentiate right from wrong.

It’s why I know I can’t be with him.

It’s also why I will not be a woman who cowers in the background while her man is fighting a war.

I snap my seat belt open, grab the gun from the floor, push open the door and step out, still holding the gun. I raise my gun, depress the trigger, and it doesn’t fire. What the hell? I apply pressure on the trigger, again and again. Still, nothing happens. What the-! The breath whooshes out of me. Michael switched on the safety. That’s why I am not able to fire. I reach for the safety, when the barrel of a gun is pushed into the back of my head.