Parking the car where I borrowed it, I step out and open the back door, helping Zeke out of his car seat.
The front door flings open, and I glance up to see Dante storming outside.
His face is red, his brow furrowed. His posture and the way he holds himself, he’s definitely pissed.
“Search the car!” he commands his men.
Two men follow behind him and open the passenger door.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, helping Zeke from the backseat and carrying him inside. He’s messy from the chocolate ice cream cone, and he looks to be wearing more than he ate.
Dante’s gaze tightens on me.
He doesn’t answer.
“We went to the park and to get ice cream.”
“You didn’t stop anyplace else on the way?” Dante’s tone drips with venom, and I try not to let my breath shake.
Zeke starts making siren sounds with his mouth.
Dante raises an eyebrow. “What’s that, Zeke?”
His siren sounds grow louder. “We saw police cars.”
I force a smile. “Yes, that’s right. There were police cars on the way.” I’m hoping I can steer this conversation away from our little detour that we made. “Is Luca back yet?”
“They’re dealing with some business. They’ll be home soon, I’m sure.” Dante’s eyes tighten, and he glances past me to his men.
“Found it!” One of the men retrieves the stuffed dragon beneath the seat. He lifts it, showing the damaged toy to Dante.
“Mine!” Zeke shrieks. “Give me. Give me. My dragon.” His eyes water when he sees the dragon’s head bob forward, nearly decapitated.
I ignore Dante and stalk past him for the dragon, its head now ripped even more than it had been earlier. “Look what your men did to Zeke’s toy!” I yank it from the taller man’s grasp as he stares at me, dumbfounded.
“Sir?” The soldier glances from Dante to me.
I ignore both of them, storming into the house with the stuffed dragon.
Zeke is on full-melt down mode, screaming and crying about his favorite toy. My son doesn’t have any idea this isn’t his dragon, and I can’t exactly soothe and comfort him if I want to keep out of hot water.
I’m a terrible mother.
“Tell me you have a sewing kit?” I bark at Dante.
He stares at me, taken aback by my boldness.
Yes, I stole the fucking toy and am now pretending it was Zeke’s all along.
I’m not a fucking saint.
Zeke seems to believe it was his, so I have one point in my favor.
Although using Zeke is a shitty thing to do, I’m well aware; but this is the mafia, and I’m not about to get myself murdered or thrown into that basement prison.
Nova comes around the corner, frowning when she hears all the excitement. She glances at the stuffed dragon. “What happened to Zeke’s favorite stuffy?”
Thankfully, she’s unaware of the duplicate as well.
