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My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 70 Safehouse
EmmelineAsher is already dressed. Shirt sleeves rolled, jaw set for the meeting at noon. There’s a smear of printer ink on his wrist. It looks like a bruise someone tried to hide and failed.We don’t talk about the warehouse yet. We talk about the only thing that matters first.“Tell me,” he says quietly, because he knows I’ve already made the choice.“Jackson has to go into hiding,” I answer. “Maria will go with him. They leave today.”His eyes close for a heartbeat and open changed. Neither of us are happy about being separated from our little boy.Bruce comes in from the hall without sound. “Two cars. Two men on each. Rotation every seven blocks until the bridge. Phones stay dark until the door shuts.”“Asher,” I say, the smallest warning, because my husband loves the sound of orders in his mouth when his heart is breaking.He nods. “You run point.”Maria ties her apron off with a hard little tug and lifts her chin at me like a challenge. “You think I do not know how to keep a boy
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 69 The Canary Sings
SebastianThe house has a different silence after midnight. Not the sleepy kind. The kind that stands behind you and watches what you type.Bruce sits across from me at the kitchen table doing his still-as-a-mountain impression while my laptop throws pale light over coffee rings and a half-eaten bowl of Maria’s incomparable lasagna.Two hours of sleep like he ordered. Then we built the bird.The canary file looks messy on purpose. A PDF of “trading notes,” an export of “internal chats,” a spreadsheet that pretends to be a panic dump. Half the entities are real shells I’ve mapped to Vescari laundering lanes. The other half are my inventions with fingerprints baked into the metadata.I address the bait to a burner inbox we know Cityline’s pet reporter checks for “tips.”I hit send. The file leaves like a breath in winter, visible for a second, then gone. We wait.The first ping hits three minutes later.“Open,” I say, heartbeat hopping, “From a residential block in Yonkers. Verizon Fios
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 68 Crosshairs
SebastianThe bar is one of those places that forgets its own name after midnight. I pick the table with my back to the wall and a view of the door because I used to mistake paranoia for a phase and it turned out to be a skill set.Bruce arrives without announcing himself. One second there’s a chair, the next there’s a wall of man sitting in it. Black T-shirt, clean jaw, the kind of stillness that makes other people fidget.He folds his forearms on the table. “Tell me.”I slide my phone across the scarred wood. He scans the screen from a distance, cataloging like he does doorframes and fire escapes. The photo of me and Emmeline on those courthouse steps. The spreadsheets.“They want me to step down from the Bureau,” I say.“Because you’re close to something,” he says, and it isn’t a question.“The account numbers are elegant forgery. The dates are almost right. The offshore shells are real, just not mine. If the SEC sees this without context, I’m radioactive.”Bruce reaches, opens a se
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 67 Heat in the Shadows
EmmelineHe locks the door without looking away from me.Click. The kind of sound that lands between my ribs and blooms there.“Come here,” Asher says.The coat slides from his shoulders, heavy with rain. His hands find my jaw like he’s checking the hinge on a door he intends to walk through.He moves first. No preamble. No safety rails except the ones we always keep for each other. Mouth on mine, pressure decisive, that bite-soft glide that strips thought and leaves the body fluent.My back meets the wall. My palms find his shoulders. He’s warm through the shirt. Solid. The kind of strength that isn’t just muscle but power.His hand brackets my throat, squeezing lightly, heat and claim, his thumb finding the flutter of my pulse. “Breathe.”I do. In on a three-count, out on a five. The world steadies and then tilts harder when he kisses the point under my ear that unspools my spine. My head hits the wall with a soft thud. He catches it with his palm and laughs like a sinner in church.
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 66 The Warning
AsherMy captains ring the long table like constellations I used to navigate by. Bruce stands at my right shoulder, a dark planet with its own gravity.Emmeline’s words are still in my blood. Put the crown on. Use every tool. I can taste them the way I taste her. Steel and honey. I’ve already made the calls, put men on schools, on routes, on the places my enemies sleep and pretend it’s safe. What I haven’t done yet is say it out loud.I open my mouth just as Bruce’s phone vibrates.He glances at the screen, and the small, bare shift in his jaw is enough to tell me the night just changed. He steps close, voice pitched for me alone. “Nico didn’t check in.”Nico. Forty-two. Drove for my father when I was still a problem in cufflinks. Taught me the quiet parts of survival. How to breathe through an ambush, how to keep your eyes up in a crowd.“Where?” I ask.Bruce answers with motion. We’re already walking to the car. “Something’s come up. Wait here,” I tell the room.We cut through the c
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 65 Pressure Points
EmmelineI’m halfway through a piece of toast when my phone starts vibrating across the counter like it wants to escape.Three texts from Sarah. Elias’s campaign manager.You seeing this???Turn on Cityline.We need you at HQ.I unmute the TV and the caption slaps me in the face. IS THE BOY SCOUT A BAGMAN? Elias’s smiling campaign photo sits beside a grainy still of Asher stepping out of a black car. The segment host has the smooth voice of a snake oil salesman.“Anonymous financial records obtained overnight appear to show a pattern of-”I don’t hear the rest. I’m already scrolling the linked article. Screenshots. Red circles. Arrows. A “timeline” that stitches unrelated events into a story where Elias is Asher’s friendly neighborhood money launderer.Asher appears in the doorway, tie loose, shirt sleeves rolled, dangerously sexy without trying. “What happened?”“Vescari happened,” I say, shoving my arms into the coat. “They’re hitting Elias. Anonymous bank records, out-of-context ph
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