If I’m here, alone and so is De Falco’s gang with Sophie and whoever else I saw, where’s Partridge?
This is supposed to be a government building.
If he’s in on it too, I’m screwed. I can’t take on the mafia and a crooked fed in one night all on my own.
I feel suddenly despondent. Like I really have no idea what I’m doing. Am I just gonna march in with a gun I don’t know how to use and demand Sophie back, then walk outta here?
A shiver comes over me and I hear Sophie’s screams again as a clear memory from just an hour or so ago come to me.
It’s all I need to focus again.
Every minute I don’t know what they’re doing to her is like torture to me, and my only purpose now is to find her and get her the hell out of here.
Even if it means sacrificing myself or letting De Falco run, I don’t care anymore.
I just want my Sophie back, then we’re done.
We’re both going south of the border, I’ve already decided. No more courts and mob families, I’ll retire. I should have enough to do that in Mexico.
It can just be the two of us, what I know we both want.
I shiver again, crashing back to earth with the realization that I just have one thing to do before we can get there.
“Just find her, do what you have to and get the fuck out,” I murmur to myself, taking the stairs down deciding to check each floor until I do find her.
But something, a strong hunch, tells me what floor they’ll be on.
The rest of this building seems vacant, but the floor I was on seemed fresher, even though the room service was lousy.
Until Sophie came that is.
Luckily, the stairs leading to that floor are clear and the door to the floor unlocked.
Major security, no wonder they just walked in here when they wanted to grab me.
I figure a single guard and obscurity was supposed to be enough to protect one guy.
And one District Attorney.
Peeking through the crack in the door, I see them coming down the corridor from the elevators.
It’s Sophie alright, and another man with a hood over his head, along with the undeniable heels and perfume I recognize anywhere.
I almost groan out loud, wondering why that fucking woman has to be everywhere I am all the time.
I feel a weird relief though, when they stop out front of what used to be my room.
The man herding them is huge, even bigger than Enrico’s boy. I half wonder what they feed them, half vow to start working out more, when I hear the familiar snap of that aging electronic door, then they’re all filed inside before it closes again.
I know I don’t have long to do something, but how many others are in that room?
Is De Falco even here?
I crouch down, rummaging through my backpack, which I know I’ll have to leave here, only taking the gun with me.
Something catches my eye, at the bottom of my bag and it gives me an idea.
The rolled up ball of tape Sophie used to cover the door’s latch.
I remember the door locking from the outside, it’s worth a shot to try.
Leaveing my bag behind, I take huge, silent steps down the hall until I’m outside the door. I take a deep breath in. If I goof this, it could all be over.
I push the open button on the outside, feeling my heart freeze as the bolt snaps open, and I push the door just far enough. I breath a sigh of relief, some one must be looking out for me.
I hear a familiar voice from inside.
It’s De Falco.
I strain to hear through the door by nudging it open a quarter of an inch.
The usually collected De Falco sounds upset, on edge.
Unhinged.
“No more talking!” he shouts. “You’ll all get popped and then that’s that. Bruno, you know what to do. Once it’s done, burn the fucker down, blow it up I don’t care… just get rid of it. All of it!”
I can hear heavy steps coming towards the door and seeing a shadow, I push it forward with all I’ve got.
It clocks De Falco, right on the nose, sending him back about three feet as I burst in.
“Alright, hold it!” I announce, pointing my gun at the biggest guy in the room.
Two more goons are sitting in chairs in front of the couch, facing me. The heads of Sophie and two other are lined up in a row on the couch with their backs to me.
Only the biggest has a gun out. One against one, a fair fight I figure.
“You can’t shoot all three before I shoot you,” I let the big guy know, jutting my chin towards the other two.
“I’ll get them last, but you… you’re first if you wanna plat hardball? Or you can drop it!”
I wait for him to say something, but he’s silent.
A ‘cat got your tongue?’ line appeals to me, but it’s too late for that.
“Ben!” Sophie cries out, and it’s the moment of distraction the other three need.
A shot deafens me, making my ears ring and I feel something hot brush past my arm.
I watch the couch tip back, with what looks like the guy next to Sophie using his legs to push it backwards.
Seeing my own moment as the other three look confused, I start to pull the trigger, pointing at the biggest guy first and then the other two, everything looks like it’s in slow motion.
But nothing’s happening.
My gun won’t work.
I can’t hear shit either still but I must’ve done something right because all three guys have their hands up, Sophie and her friends look like they’re wriggling to safety.
A heavy hand on my shoulder makes me spin violently, but another hand stops my fist and takes my gun.
Partridge.
His smug smile and that cool shake of his head, plus the sight of at least ten SWAT guys storming the room with guns drawn tells me everything I need to know.
I look back for Sophie, she’s being helped up by an older man. I know it’s her dad in a second, and my heart finally starts to beat again.
She’s safe.
“De Falco?” I ask Partridge, who laughs even though I can’t hear him. Everything sounds like it’s underwater.
He jerks his thumb backwards, to the hall, smiling and mouthing the words ‘we got him’ as he holds my bag up for me, dangling it from his middle finger in front of me.
My hearing starts to come back, and the heat in my shoulder becomes a sensation of pain I’m not familiar with, but I can only look at Sophie, waiting for the SWAT guys to get those bad guys out of the room so I can go to her.
Daniella Fellini is pushed through between us, her hands cuffed by the law now, she doesn’t even look up.
Someone’s cut Sophie free and as soon as she’s able she rushes into my arms.
The whole room’s spinning as I turn with her. I know I’m holding her too tight, but I also know she doesn’t mind.
I don’t know how long we just stand there holding each other, when another hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to tell whoever it is to bug off.
It’s her dad.
“Ben, I’m Matt Moore, Sophie’s dad,” he tells me, like he’s reading the riot act rather than introducing himself.
I can see he’s, watching a man his own age take hold of his only daughter in a room full of strangers that would leave little to even the most desolate imagination.
“Dad…” Sophie starts in a cautioning tone.
“I don’t quite know what’s been going here,” he says firmly, looking from me to Sophie and then back to me.
“But any man who’ll take a bullet for my daughter and risk his life like that… well, I’d be glad to call him a friend,” he says, and he offers me his hand which I take firmly, pumping it until I wince with pain.
“How about a son instead of a friend?” I ask, gritting my teeth and pulling Sophie closer.
His jaw drops for a moment, but I’m not asking him.
I’m telling him.
She
’s mine and I intend to make that a permanent thing from now on.
“Kiss me, Sophie,” I tell her firmly. “Kiss me and say yes.”
She kisses me bashfully and after lowering her eyes, her ‘yes’ is followed by a questioning ‘why?’
“Because I just asked you to marry me, that’s why… Mrs. Sophie Slade.”
She tells me yes again, and I hold her even tighter as I kiss her, for real this time. Not caring if her dad’s here or not anymore.
But I feel his hand slapping my back as he hugs her too, still sounding a little like it’s underwater, I hear him say the word, Son.
Epilogue
Four Months Later
Sophie
“Just tell me one more time, how did your dad even think of tipping that whole couch back, let alone have the strength to do it?” Ben asks me, feeding me another mouthful of steak and eggs.
I roll my eyes and sigh, laughing eventually.
After all this time, it’s still Ben who wants to make my dad out to be the hero.
He even made sure dad got a bravery award and an early retirement offer, which he refused, but it did wonders for his outlook on the rest of his career.
“I dunno,” I protest. “He did what cops do, what anyone would do… what you’d do to save me,” I tell him, hearing my voice crack with emotion as he reaches for my face, kissing me gently.
“Sorry babe, I didn’t mean to bring it up again,” Ben says softly.
He pouts after a moment, holding up more food, which I take from his breakfast fork.
“Are you trying to make me fatter?” I protest, sniffing back tears and changing the subject, a topic I know grinds Ben’s gears.
My weight.
He makes a face where his eyes bulge and he puffs his cheeks, looking like I’ve said the most insulting thing I could to the man.
It always makes me laugh because I know how he likes to punish me for bringing it up.
Any time he hears me talking down about myself, about my size. I always know what’s coming.
“That’s it!” he says with mock seriousness, throwing down his fork with a clatter and pushing the plates aside.
I start to squeal, my heart racing as I pretend to beg him not to.
“Ben… no, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it,” I gasp, even putting the back of my palm to my forehead as I pretend to feel faint.
“Nope. Too late, I’ve warned you about this Sophie, time and again” he says seriously, his eyes shining with delight, his hardness already bobbing through his gray sweats as he grabs hold of me. Tossing me over his good shoulder I squeak even louder, trying not to moan just yet.
Trying not to let on just how much he turns me on when he does this.
Which is pretty much every chance he gets by the way.
Although I don’t always use the weight angle. Just lately, I know it’s not my imagination.
I’ve had to buy clothes a size or two up and I’m getting worried.
Ben’s not.
“I’ve told you, Sophie,” he reminds me, peeling off my robe and laying me back on the bed, his breath shuddering as he runs his hands over me, taking in every inch of me with his eyes first.
“That when something so beautiful comes along, a man would be wise to want even more of it to enjoy, wouldn’t he?” he asks as if he’s talking to himself.
“All to himself,” he murmurs, and I groan helplessly as his head disappears between my thighs, the first round of what I know is going to be a long, hard morning with the insatiable Ben Slade.
My phone rings and I’d normally ignore it, but it’s buzzing right underneath us, with Ben murmuring that he’s not into threesomes. He wants me all to himself.
I glance at the caller ID, it’s the doctor that I forgot I was waiting for to call back.
Ben’s patience is as big as his… well. He’s a patient guy. He settles himself, nibbling at my toes and biting my calves as I try and hold a conversation with the doctor on the phone.
He stops suddenly once he senses my mood, the news I get from the doctor.
“That’s right Mrs. Slade, every test came back positive, there’s no shadow of a doubt.”
I feel weak, light-headed all of a sudden, and the phone slips from my hand.
Ben snatches it up, demanding to know who it is, what they want, and after a full minute of him cross-examining the doctor, he finally goes quiet. Limiting himself to nods and uh huh’s.
Eventually, he thanks the doctor for her time and passes the phone back to me, suddenly cradling me in his arms like I’m made of glass.
“I guess we spent so long making a baby, we never thought there might be one already there?” I ask, my heart fluttering.
“Babies,” he corrects me. “Twins, I just know it,” he finally says, his eyes glistening with tears and his smile telling me he’s the happiest daddy to be on the planet.
“I’m gonna be a Mommy?” I stammer aloud again, still not quite grasping the concept.
“We are gonna be a Mommy and a Daddy,” Ben corrects me again. “Us,” he whispers adjusting my pillow now, helping me get my robe back on like I’m some sort of hospital patient.
“Oh no you don’t, Ben Slade,” I warn him. “Don’t you start what you can’t finish. Get over here and remind me just how babies are made.”
Extended Epilogue
Two Years Later
Ben
We never quite got to Mexico, Sophie was right. Her dad just wouldn’t have it. But with Enrico’s wedding gift of his Villa, we manage to keep a little piece of our first few days of magic alive every day.
“Why go south of the border when we can be right here?” She tells me every chance she gets.
The wedding was supposed to be shotgun, once we confirmed we really did have twins on the way. Sophie was at four months, and it was clear we’d be so busy with the twins to do anything after the fact.
Matt wanted a full church wedding with all the trimmings, and taking me aside he confided that Sophie did too.
I never got it out of her, but seeing her in that dress they altered several times to accommodate our growing babies, the look in her eyes, and the special thank you she gave me after I kissed her as her husband for the first time?
I figured every girl wants their special day, and Sophie deserved the most special of all.
I had some loose ends to tie up, legally. I was offered the position of District Attorney, which I accepted, providing I could defer all duties indefinitely.
A polite way of saying no.
De Falco and his family were sentenced, with the main bosses serving a minimum of fifteen years a piece. About as good as it gets with that kind of career criminals in today’s world.
Daniella Fellini didn’t score so well. Her position and abuse of power bought her twenty-five straight. Something that makes me feel a little easier about sleeping at night than the mob getting out on parole, to be honest.
When the mafia does get out, will they come for me? Will they come for my family?
I doubt it. There’s enough of them still out, running their businesses for them to get by and with Enrico and his southern workshop friends as my personal guard of honor at the wedding and new pen pals, I think we can each settle for just crossing to the other side of the street if it ever comes to that.
And the twins? Shauna and Shayne are the two brightest stars in our whole universe. Everyone told us it would be that way.
It’s taken us both about a year since they started walking to keep calm when they just take off. Even with the fences.
We do live on the edge of a hundred and fifty-foot cliff.
But once the twins saw how much it freaked us out, I like to think they decided other ways to try out just how far they can push Mommy and Daddy, which is far.
We’ve both been told we spoil them and I always make sure I ask exactly how so I can improve on that process as best I can.
“What is it, honey?” I ask Sophie, watching her turn pale an
d then almost gray as she changes Little Shauna. I move to step in and take over but she shakes her head.
“I’m alright,” she says, biting down on her lip before she rushes out to the bathroom.
Neither of us ever gets sick, the kids too. Never so much as a sniffle.
I hoist Shayne up onto the changing table, busily humming to myself as I work them both back to fresh dryness, feeling a rush wash through me.
That rush, deep inside which I never even thought about being so greedy for as to ask for the same blessing in this life twice.
I powder my babies, kiss their button noses and all three of us just seem to hang for a while, even after they’re changed and cleaned up.
“You guys know, don’t you?” I ask them, holding out a finger for each of them to clutch on to as they wriggle and gurgle like twins do.
Talking to each other without talking, making plans, and saying a whole bunch of stuff without saying a single word.
After a while, and a few flushes of the john later, I hear Sophie padding her way back down the hall.
“Don’t even say it,” she orders me, trying to hold up a stern finger in warning as I try not to laugh, the twins beating me to it.
“They already know, Mommy. You can’t keep a secret like that from these two, you should know that by now,” I tell her innocently, grinning like a fool.
“Well, you didn’t know,” she retorts, the color coming back to her face, eventually smiling as we pick up one baby each, hugging each other close, all four of us. So quietly happy in the knowing that number five, or is it number six as well? Is finally on the way.
“I love you, Sophie,” I remind her.
“I love you more,” she replies, and the twins gurgle what to me sounds a lot like I love you too.
Extended Epilogue
Twenty-Two Years Later
Sophie
“Mom? Dad? What is it?” William asks the first time I’ve seen him look so concerned.
I’m not having a heart attack, not yet. But it feels like some wind’s been taken out of my sails, that’s for sure.
Maid For The Mafia Informant: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance Page 12
