His Mafia Prince
Chapter 229: Daddy’s Home

Chapter 229: Daddy’s Home

(TYLER)

When it stops, I still have the gun to my head, and my hand is definitely shaking more now. Somehow, I’m still alive.

"The boss told me you got over that death wish of yours," says a familiar voice.

"Still comes in handy from time to time," I half-whisper. I open one eye, then the other. The kitchen doors are still swinging, and in the occasional light it lets in from the corridor outside, I see three men in paramilitary uniforms on the floor, all lying in pools of dark, spreading liquid.

As for me, I’m not dead, not dreaming, probably not hallucinating. I let out a laugh, my hyena laugh, but it’s muffled by the mingled relief and disbelief in my throat.

"Well, shit," I say, dropping the gun from my head. I turn back to look into the storage room, where Burgess , Darla and Marco are all staring at me in confusion.

"It’s okay," I tell them, still chuckling, slightly hysterical. "It’s okay."

Marco struggles to his feet, grabbing at me to push me behind him, but I laugh again. "You’ve been away too long, Brother Marco. Don’t you recognize him?"

The man behind me comes forward as Marco and Burgess light up their phones. Walking into their wavering, crossed-over spotlights is a familiar, welcome figure, and when the lights reach his beautiful face, I hear Burgess suck in a breath.

Marco gives a low curse. "Well, fuck me. You sure are a sight for sore eyes —the ones I got left, anyways."

"And you, Marco," says Santino Bianchi, Adonis’ family former head of security and Miles’s helper. He smooths back his hair and holsters his gun. "So, I leave town for a while and I come back to this? What exactly is this mess you’ve gotten yourselves into?"

I can’t help myself. "How?" I demand once I step back, unable to vocalize anything further.

Marco and Santino pull out of their own back-slapping hug, and my hands have turned so sweaty with relief that I need to put the gun down again.

I go to Sasha at once, where Darla is checking him over again, and so I’m right next to Burgess when she speaks.

"Santino Bianchi, I am arresting you on suspicion of—of murder," she quavers. She gets up to her knees, then sits back down on her heels. "Anything you say—"

"Seriously?" I ask her. "He just saved our lives."

"Yes, seriously!" she snaps back at me. Then her eyes go even wider as I hear further footsteps enter the kitchen area.

"All clear," says another voice I know. This time Burgess springs to her feet. "Fuck me," I hear her say under her breath, and she just about runs out of the freezer room, her gun aiming sure and steady. "Hold it right there, Matteo. Jesus, this must be my lucky day."

Giovanni Matteo, the former cop who changed sides to join Santino’s mission, does not freeze. He comes forward, a curious look on his face. "Gina Burgess ," he says with a smile. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Put your gun down!" He holsters it, holds his hands up in a bored manner, then looks across to Santino. "Top end’s clear of these assholes," he says, nodding at the closest corpse, "but it’ll be crawling with cops any second now."

Darla is still checking over Sasha, so I follow Burgess out, trying to reason with her. "Listen, Santino and Giovanni aren’t the bad guys."

"Oh, I’m sure they had real good reasons for all those cop-killings in." She tries calling for backup on her radio again, but it’s still out. She pulls out her phone and makes a frustrated noise. No reception, I’m guessing.

Giovanni gives an up-nod to me. "Hey, Tyler."

"Hey," I say.

"Um. How’ve you been?"

"So-so," he drawls.

Giovanni Matteo was always built, but now? Boy is swole. He’s jacked up, his muscles bulging; even his once-cute face that I remember from the meeting after Mr. Adonis funeral has hardened a little, and his jawline seems extra-sharp. The whole look gives him a vibe of danger, although I suspect he must have toughened up mentally as well. Going on the run with a man like Santino Bianchi would toughen anyone up.

Giovanni looks to Burgess again. "Gina, just so you know, Santino and I won’t be going anywhere with you. So can we stop the charade?"

"Keep your hands in the air," she snaps.

She’s too busy concentrating on Giovanni that she doesn’t notice Santino sliding up next to her. In a few quick moves, he politely disarms her—of her gun, her phone, and her police radio, too.

"My apologies, Detective," he says afterward, pocketing them. "You can have these back when we’re gone." Burgess flattens herself against the wall, her eyes flicking between every person in the room.

"Detective Burgess ," I sigh, "didn’t Sasha tell you we would protect you? And haven’t we done that?"

"I have a sworn duty," she says between her teeth. "I’m not just going to ignore that."

Giovanni, who has dropped his hands and is busy texting something to someone —how the hell does he have reception down here?—glances up at her.

"I used to think the same as you, Gina, until I got roundly fucked over by one of our own. We’ll have a conversation, I can promise you that. But not here. Not now. First priority is getting Sasha back into care."

"He’s right," Darla says, speaking up unexpectedly. Fear grips me again. "This man will die if we don’t get him back upstairs now."

Burgess swallows, her lips tightening, and misses the reassuring wink that Darla gives me. "Fine," she says. "But I want eyes on these two at all times," she adds, pointing at Santino and Giovanni.

"Whatever makes you comfortable," Giovanni says sincerely. "I’m looking forward to clearing up any confusion you might have."

He might look like a dangerous underworld figure after his time on the run, but Giovanni Matteo is still the same old him, I decide.

"Let’s go," I say, coming around to take over wheelchair duty. I don’t want anyone’s hands on my husband right now other than mine.

"He’ll be okay," Darla whispers to me, and I give her a nod of thanks. He’d better be. I want to see his face when he wakes up to see Santino Bianchi is back in town.

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