Arranged Mafia Marriage

Michael

“Stop or I’ll shoot her.”

A familiar voice rings out. I keep my finger pressed down on the trigger, take the last man out, then pivot, gun pointed toward the man who has his weapon trained on her.

“Cazzo!” I growl as my gaze collides with a pair of blue eyes so similar to mine.

“Don,” I growl, “What the hell are you up to?”

“Sorry it had to come to this, Capo,” he says without any change in expression, “but I have to protect what’s mine.”

“You wanted me to become the Don.”

“Correction,” he looks me up and down, “I wanted you to think that I wanted you to become the Don.”

“Why,” I shake my head trying to understand what his intentions are, “Why would you do this?”

“Why would I hold a gun to your wife’s head?” His lips curve, “You know why. You let it become personal, Capo. You allowed her to get to you. You went against everything I taught you.”

“Everything you taught me?” I explode, “You didn’t teach me shit, you bastard.”

“Technically, I am not a bastard. Neither are you, for that matter.” He shakes his head, “American insults; they’re so predictable, don’t you think?”

“There’s enough American in me to use the insult when it fits the occasion.”

“That was my first mistake. Agreeing to let you go to the US to study. You came back, not just with an American accent, but with their sensibilities as well, which don’t fit in with our way of life.”

“What doesn’t fit in with our way of life is you.”

“And you?” His lips kick up, “You are going to modernize the ways of the Mafia, eh? Bring us into the digital age with your virtual businesses? The very nature of which has resulted in this mess.”

“It did,” I agree. “The virtual businesses which you mock are so profitable that it led to my partners trying to betray me to get a hold of it, but thanks to you,” I allow my own lips to curve in a smile, “I’ve not only sorted that out, but at the same time, I’ve made allies of our closest rivals.”

“You’d engage in a partnership with our enemies?” My father’s features harden. “That is a recipe for disaster.”

“What is a recipe for disaster is that you still have your gun trained on my wife.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

I curl my fingers around the trigger and the Don shakes his head, “Don’t do it; not unless you want to see your wife’s brains all over the ground.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Karma pales and her fingers holding the gun tremble. He leans around, grabs the gun from her. I stiffen, take a step forward, but he wiggles his gun in my direction. I pause, take in Karma’s features. Her chin wobbles, but her gaze never wavers. Magnificent woman. She squares her shoulders and firms her lips. She’s scared, but she’s trying her best not to show it. I hold her gaze for a second longer, then turn my attention to my father. “What do you want?”

“You. Dead,” he points her gun at me, then releases the safety. The sound is loud in the silence, broken only by the sound of the hot metal of the cars contracting as they release some of their heat into the air.

She winces, but doesn’t give any other sign of the fear I am sure grips her right now.

“I thought you wanted your legacy to continue.”

“It’s why I have five sons.”

“Four,” I say in a low voice, “you have four sons left.”

“Too bad about Alessandro,” he raises a shoulder, “but the way he was going… He wasn’t worth the Mafia name.”

“You?” Anger clouds my brain and my pulse rate ratchets. Something hot stabs at my chest. “You?” I manage to form the word with my tongue. “You were behind the rigging of the car? You killed him?”

“An accident.” For a second, he seems almost contrite, then his features smooth out again. “I hadn’t meant for the bomb to kill him.”

My gut clenches and my vision tunnels. He killed him? My father killed my brother? He killed Xander? I clench my fingers around the trigger of my gun. I am going to kill the bastard myself. But I don’t yet have a clear shot. Merda! I glare down the barrel of my gun at him, force my muscles to relax, “But you did intend to kill her?”

“Something to distract you from your path to taking over as Don.”

“I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “You encouraged me to become Don; you are my father.”

“So?” He raises a shoulder, “Doesn’t mean I ever have to step down. I intend to stay at the helm of the Mafiosa for a long, long time…but you, were becoming too great a threat.”

“You’d kill me, rather than see me succeed?”

“And then I’d still have three sons.” He raises a shoulder, “Enough to continue my lineage, when the time comes.”

“You’ve lost it,” I growl.

“You’re the one who’s lost the fight.” He narrow his gaze on me, “Lower the gun, son.”

Son? He dares call me son after everything he’s done to our family? Bile bubbles up my throat and I swallow it down. I glance from him to her, then back at his face.

“Do it,” he warns. “If you want her to survive this, you’ll lower the gun.”

“If you let her walk away, I’ll hand myself over.”

“No, Michael,” Karma bursts out, and he must push the gun into her head, for she winces again.

Anger coils in my belly, my vision narrows, adrenaline laces my blood, and I force myself to uncurl my fingers from where they have pressed down on the trigger. “Let her walk away, now,” I insist, “and I won’t fight this.”

“Lower your gun first,” he says in a cold voice. “Don’t forget, I am the one who taught you the game that you now insist on playing.”

I glare at him and he doesn’t blink. My father’s features are set in lines that I find familiar. He means it. He won’t hesitate to shoot her. The only way out is to show him that I am willing to comply, for the moment. I lower my gun, and he jerks his chin. “Place it on the ground.”

I follow his instructions, then straighten.

“Now kick it toward me.”

I do so, and he nods.

“Now let her go.”

“No,” he drawls, “I am going to shoot her, then you.”

“Wait,” I burst out, “the man I interrogated and who said that it was the Kane company who’d put him up to rigging the car, was that your doing?”

His lips twist, “What do you think?”

“I don’t know…” I draw in a breath. Delay him, delay him. Just until I’ve gathered myself together. Just until I find a way to get him to release Karma. “If it was, then that was sheer genius. It derailed us from going after the real culprit.”

“Me,” he bites out the word with satisfaction writ into his features.

He holds my gaze and I can read the intent. I know he’s going to do it. He’s going to pull the trigger on her, on my Beauty, my soul, my wife. My everything. All of my muscles tense and I lean forward on the balls of my feet, ready to throw myself at him, when the screech of brakes sounds from behind me.

He glances past me and I yell, “Hit the ground, Karma.”

I lunge toward my gun, but before I can reach it, a shot rings out.

There’s a hoarse cry. I grab the gun, raise it to find Karma is on the ground, her arms over her head and smoke rising from a hole in the center of my father’s chest. It’s smoking, but there’s no blood. Motherfucker. He’s wearing a protective vest. Of course, he is. There’s only one way to kill this guy.

He raises his gun, fires, and something slams into my left shoulder. Pain slices through me, burns a path down my arm. I raise the gun with my other arm, pull the trigger, and again.

Blood blooms from a hole in the center of his forehead, and a second from the hole in his throat. He seems almost surprised. Then his body begins to tumble forward. I race toward Karma, grab her under my arm, swing her up and to the side. My father’s body crashes to the ground where she was.

A trembling grips her and I pull her close as I stare at the man who was my father.

He betrayed me… Hell, he had been betraying me my entire life. At each turn, I had forgiven him, because he was my blood. Was he right? Was it because I am too emotional that I couldn’t see what he really was? Is that why I couldn’t stop him before he killed my brother?

A coldness grips my chest. I stare at the fallen body of my father and a buzzing sound fills my senses.

“Mika, are you okay?”

Specks of black infiltrate the corners of my vision as I gaze down at her.

“Karma?”

She glances at my features, then down to my left shoulder.

“Oh my god, Mika,” she gasps, “you are hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” I smirk… Then cough, and blood drips from the corner of my mouth.

Her gaze widens, “It’s not just a scratch. The bullet… It hit you; you are bleeding out.” She presses her hand to where the blood pulses from the wound, trying to stem the flow, and pain shoots up my neck. It explodes behind my eyes, and I grunt as my legs seem to fold in on themselves. I try to straighten myself, waver on my feet, and Karma tries to support me. “Help,” she screams as footsteps sound behind me, “help me.”

Strong arms grip me, then lower me to the dirt. I glance up into Nikolai’s face.

“Sorry, I got here a little late.” He grimaces. His face fades in and out of view.

“You were…not late,” I force out the words. A coldness grips me and I shudder.

More footsteps sound, then suddenly, Christian is there. He takes one look at me and his features go solid. He pulls off his jacket, sinks to his knees, and hands it to Karma. “Use this to apply pressure,” he growls.

Sirens sound in the distance, and I frown.

“Ambulance,” JJ’s voice seems to come from far away, “I called an ambulance.”

I grasp Karma’s hand in mine. “Don’t leave me,” I whisper. “Don’t leave me, Karma.”

“Don’t talk,” she swallows, “save your energy.”

Darkness pulls me under, but I fight it off.

“Promise me that you’ll be there when I wake up.”

She moves her mouth but I can’t hear her.

“Andy,” I murmur.

“You’re dying,” she bursts out, “and you’re worried about my cat?”

“I am not dying,” I insist, “and you love your cat, so of course, I am worried about him.”

“Please, don’t exert yourself,” she pleads. “Please, Mika, just focus on staying alive.”

“I am not going anywhere,” I smile. “Not as long as I have you by my side.”

She glances away and a sick sensation twists my stomach.

“Karma, don’t do it,” I plead with her, or at least, I think I try to do that. Then everything goes dark.