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He pauses. “You say something?”
“Yeah.” He finishes manhandling me into the car, and I go even as I tell him, “Something pinched me.”
“I know.”
Heknows.
Before I can ask him what that means, he makes sure I’m completely seated, then slams the door closed. By the time he’s made it around the back of the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, I’m already feeling…off.
My vision is going dark. My tongue feels too big in my mouth, and it comes out as a slur as I ask him, “What did you just do to me?”
The last thing I remember is the triumphant smile tugging on his thin lips as Bobby shows off the small needle nestled in his palm.
After that, everything goes black.
LINCOLN
If wedding planning isn’t one of the seven circles of Hell, it should be.
I thought navigating a three-way stand-off between local mafias when it comes to gun running was rough. That’s nothing compared to figuring out how much food to order from the caterers, or whether Ava would prefer a morning wedding or one in the afternoon.
I eventually book St. Francis’s for an eleven o’clock ceremony because that would give her time to get ready before I drive her over to the church. A Sinner’s reception usually goes all night, but my wife likes to turn in early. This way she doesn’t get shafted by cutting the party short, and I get the chance to show her again just how important she is to me in front of the Family.
Because kid or no kid, the moment I made Ava mine, she made the syndicate a Family. We don’t need a fancy church wedding to prove it—the scene at the Playground was more than enough—but I’m not doing all of this because it’s expected of me as the head of a crime family. If I was, I would’ve delegated all of this to one of my soldier’s or even Ava herself and washed my hands of it.
Oh, no. I’m doing thisforAva, giving her the wedding she always dreamed of, and hoping like hell that she finally understands that she’s my wife.
I fucked up. I admit that. Marrying her the way I did… I’ll never regret making her mine, but by doing it as fast as I did, I didn’t think about what she wanted.
Now I am, and I hope she appreciates it when I’m done.
A small smile curves my lips as I think of all the ways Ava will show me that she does on the honeymoon I’m also planning—
My phone buzzes, cutting short my imaginings.
“Fuck.”
Again? I just got off the phone with the caterers, and if they’re calling back with more bullshit questions like “chicken or steak” again, I might blow my top.
Snatching my phone, I barely glance at the caller ID—but then I do a double-take and answer it. “Burns? You got an update about Maglione for me?”
On the other end of the line, Burns sounds quieter than I’m used to. Deadlier. “You’ll never guess who I just ran into.”
If he’s telling me, there’s a reason he thinks I care. “Who?”
“Your wife.”
I nearly drop my fucking phone.
I’m in the back office of the Playground, dealing with all of this wedding shit. Because it’s a surprise, I can’t do any of it in front of Ava, so I’ve been spending most of my time here, calling it ‘work’.
If Burns showed up at Paradise Suites, someone would’ve called me. Mona. Bobby. Even Ava… someone would’ve called me. Then again, it should’ve been the same thing if Ava left.
What the hell is going on?
“Where did you see her?”
“Funny thing, Devil. She was leaving my wife’s shop as I was walking in.”
