Ryder: Hitman Mafia Romance (11 page)

First. Did she even want this baby? Everything would be simpler if she had an abortion. No lies, no hiding, nothing to fear. But when she considered it, considered going into one of those places and coming out empty, taking away the thing that her and Ryder had made, the thought brought fresh sobs to her throat every time.

She couldn’t destroy something that was the both of them. Okay, so she could go away. Put the shop in capable hands and tell her father she wanted to go travel Europe for a year. She could have the baby and give it to a happy couple, and then think of him or her out in the world. This little life her and Ryder made, off living its life happy. But that, too, made her sad. She didn’t want to hand the baby over. She wanted to be the one raising it, to hand it to Ryder when he came home after work. To sit with him and watch their child grow.

Maybe that was the answer, then. Maybe she did go away. But, instead of giving up the baby, she kept it and lived with Ryder and had a happy little family far away from her father where no one would ever find them. They could change their names, take a bunch of money, and live happily together. Ryder could make money somehow. Probably. Get a job or something. She’d even consider not having all the money she had now if it meant being with him and having a family.

Pia could not shake that happy imagine. She would have this baby. She would keep this baby. And even if, somehow, Ryder wasn’t part of the picture, if her father did kill him in the most tragic version of this story possible, then she would keep the baby knowing it was part of him that lived on. But she couldn’t afford to think like that. Couldn’t spend the tears that came with the thought of losing him. She had to tell him before anyone else could know.

They’d have to make plans and find a way out. They’d go away. They’d hide. They’d do it together.

She took out her phone and sent him a text.
I need to see you.

It didn’t give any information away. That text could mean anything. And since it was the first text she’d sent him since he left, it would have to get his attention. Did it sound urgent enough? She almost added that it was very important, but she would wait. If he didn’t respond, she could send that.

He would respond, though, she was sure. Well, sort of sure. She hoped. But what if he didn’t, and she couldn’t get a hold of him? What then? Go back to her original plan of leaving the country? Hope she’d be able to find him later? It wasn’t like he was missing. Her father knew where he was. She could maybe get the information secretly and go to him if it came to that. But hopefully it wouldn’t. He would respond and say he was coming to her and that would be it.

She paced her room, waiting for her text notification. She kept checking her phone. Had the message really sent? Yes, it showed delivered and the date. Maybe he hadn’t gotten it yet. Maybe his phone wasn’t charged. Maybe he was in the shower or in the middle of something and couldn’t respond right away?

Her stomach tightened with every minute that passed. What if he let her down? What if he didn’t show after all? What if he didn’t respond and come to her and take her away?

She fell to her knees, the tears flowing silently as she stared at her quiet phone.

It took hours for him to get to her. Too many hours, much too long. The whole drive was agonizing. He was worried, imagining every scenario possible. In most of his visions, she was hurt or in danger in some way. Which meant he needed to get there fast.

What if it had somehow all been a setup? What if they were just trying to get him out of the way so they could get to her. Though the “they” in that case would have to be Matteo because obviously the guys who tried to kidnap her wouldn’t have known when he was coming to kill them.

Maybe the timing was a coincidence but she was hurt for some other reason, in some other way. Maybe her car had broken down and she was stranded on the side of the road. Maybe the guys he killed had somehow alerted their boss before he knew it and while they were dying, someone was being sent to hurt her. A little payback for taking his guys out?

If he was lucky, she wasn’t in danger at all. She was just missing him and wanted him. But when was he ever lucky? She hadn’t texted him in all these weeks, so why would she now all of a sudden? That would be too good to be true.

No. He tried to picture her in some sexy outfit, posing seductively on her bed, texting him because she was wet for him. But that image quickly vanished and was replaced with the sight of the fear in her eyes as her kidnapper tried to pull her away. He’d never forget that look. It haunted his waking and sleeping hours when he wasn’t with her. When he didn’t know for sure she was safe. He always pictured the worst.

Even though he’d driven as fast as possible, as fast as was safe after just committing a double murder, it wasn’t fast enough. He thought about texting her back or calling, but without knowing the situation, he didn’t want to do that, or give anything away. If she was in danger, her phone might be compromised. Better her attacker think he wasn’t going to show up than to know that he was on the way.

He hated to think she was sitting there with her phone, waiting for his response that wasn’t coming, but it was safer this way. He could explain everything when he had her in his arms. When she was safe.

Finally, her house came into sight. This part, he needed to play carefully. He couldn’t just barge in there and up to her room. Luckily, he had the excuse of needing to talk to Matteo and report in anyway. He’d do a little reconnaissance before going in to make sure she was there.

He turned into the driveway, but didn’t pull up to the house. He got just close enough to see that a dim light was on in her room. It was late, though. It could be some sort of night light left on. Didn’t really prove anything.

He’d planned to install a tracking app on her phone. While he was protecting her, it wasn’t necessary, and he hadn’t had the chance to do it before he left. But he would now. Next chance he got. That way, he’d at least always know where her phone was.

Lateness was on his side, though. Matteo would be up, waiting for him to come and give his report, but the other staff would be sleeping.

But that wouldn’t help him now. He parked and walked up to the garage, peaking in to see whose cars were there. Matteo’s day car was there. And so was Pia’s Jaguar. So she was most likely here. The only way to make sure was to text her or go to her room.

He took a chance and sent a text.
Where are you?

That, at least, wouldn’t give anyone any information except that maybe he would be on his way soon after she sent the text.

In my room
, she said back quickly.
Where are you?

He ignored her question for now.
Are you okay?

I don’t know.

Are you alone?

Yes. Kinda.

What the hell did that mean? How was someone kind of alone? Well, she was here and didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. She’d know soon enough that he was here.

He knocked on the front door and waited. Matteo greeted him and ushered him inside.

“Is it done?” Matteo asked.

“Yes. There were two men. One was her attacker. Both are dead.”

Matteo nodded. “Any problems? Any worries?”

“None.” He would leave out the man in the robe who may have seen him. It wasn’t a big enough deal, and he wasn’t sure enough to worry anyone. He really doubted that dude would do anything anyway.

Matteo clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Knew I could count on you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you know when I have your next mission.”

Ryder nodded. “It’s late. Do you think I could grab a shower and crash in the guest room for a few hours?”

“Of course.”

“Appreciate it.”

Ryder shook his hand and Matteo disappeared into his office as Ryder went upstairs. His heart pounded. He wanted to run right to her room, but he had to restrain himself.

He went into the guest room, the room he’d stayed in for the weeks he was protecting Pia. He started the shower. Then he couldn’t resist taking just two minutes to get a quick rinse off. He was sweaty and dirty. And if she was here, she had to be okay. There was a decent chance, he thought, that he would be with her tonight and he didn’t want to be smelly.

He got out and left the water running. He toweled off quickly, then opened his door as quietly as possible, and knocked softly on hers. She pulled the door open. Too fast. He cringed at the sound it made, but the shower should muffle it.

She looked so relieved to see him, he wanted to pull her into his arms right then and kiss her. But he put his finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet, then returned to his room to shut the water off. He couldn’t just let it run all night.

He went back into her room, and she was standing just inside the door. He went in and closed the door softly behind him.

“What took you so long?” she hissed.

“Good to see you, too,” he said. He stood a few feet from her, his arms crossed. He didn’t want to assume anything. He wanted to kiss her and feel her body in his arms so badly, though.

“Hi,” she said, crossing her own arms. “What took you so long? It’s been hours since I texted you.”

“I was off killing your kidnapper and his friend. I was fifty miles away when I got your text. I drove way too fast to get back here.”

“Then why didn’t you text back? Or call?”

“I had no idea what the situation was. If you’d been taken and I said I was on my way, that would allow plenty of time for an attacker to be ready and set up a trap. If it looked like I hadn’t gotten the message, they wouldn’t be expecting to see me.”

“But if you killed the guy, who would be after me?”

“I don’t know, but I had to be careful just in case.”

She dropped her arms and let out a shaky sigh. “I was worried. I thought…”

She looked up at him with such concern in her face that he swept her into his arms and held her close. She trembled gently, like she was crying. He pulled back to look her in the eyes.

That’s when he saw it. He hadn’t noticed before. She’d been too far away or he’d been too preoccupied, but now he saw. Her face looked pale and sunken in. Dark circles were under her eyes. She seemed all around weak. She seemed a shadow of her former self.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“Umm.” She looked down. “Can we sit down for a minute?”

“In a sec.” He lifted her chin so she faced him, then leaned down and kissed her. It’d been so long since he felt her soft lips on his. She kissed him back hard, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer to him.

But then she broke the kiss and led him over to the bed. She sat on the edge and patted the spot beside her.

“I’m not sick. Well, I sort of am, but not really.”

“Pia, what’s going on? You have me worried now.”

She took in a deep breath and let it out shakily. She looked at him, tears lying low in her eyes. “I’m pregnant. With your baby.”

He couldn’t have heard her right. Pregnant? His little baby growing in her belly? No, that couldn’t be. “What?”

“I’m pregnant. Must be about two months along. That’s how long it’s been since we were together. I haven’t been with anyone else since we met.”

He took some tiny measure of comfort in knowing she hadn’t been sleeping with someone else while he was off trying to kill her attacker. That wasn’t nothing. He hadn’t slept with anyone either, but mostly because he was so focused. If he hadn’t been, he probably would have. They weren’t in a relationship or anything.

“You’re sure?”

“I took two tests. I haven’t been to a doctor or anything, but I have, like, every symptom.”

“Like what?”

“Morning sickness, extreme tiredness, sore boobs, sensitivity to smells, missing periods. All of it.”

He stared down at his hands for a long while. He’d never dreamed of having a baby. Never did the relationship thing at all, so he never pictured having a wife and kids. The whole concept seemed so foreign to him. He wouldn’t know what to do with a family. How to provide for them. How could you buy a house when your job was mafia hit man?

He tried to imagine the whole white picket fence thing. Two kids and a dog and a minivan. That so was not him. He would not own a minivan. Not in a million years. But there wasn’t room for a car seat on a motorcycle. Would there be room in her Jaguar?

The image shifted when he pictured Pia as a mother. The baby in the car seat beside her on the floor as she got her nails done. Having a nanny to do the messy stuff like change dirty diapers. He didn’t want to think of some baby sucking on her perfect boobs. Or, for that matter, what having a baby would do to her body. Her perfect little body. Well, it wasn’t going to be little for very much longer.

How in the world would she handle motherhood? The waking up at night, the spit up and the feedings, the crying? Would she even do any of that, or would she hire someone to do it for her? She needed him, bad. He wouldn’t want his kid raised by some nanny. He wanted it raised by him and her.

What was he saying? Raise a baby? With the mafia boss’s daughter? What, through a jail cell or a grave? Because Matteo would certainly not stand for this. His precious little Pia knocked up by a mafia thug instead of some rich boy? He’d go ballistic. Most likely, he’d have him killed. Who knew how he would take it out on Pia. Probably wouldn’t kill her, but would he let her keep the baby? Wait a minute, did Pia even want to keep the baby?

Maybe she was planning to get rid of it, or to give it away. Maybe she didn’t want to have his baby at all. She could be just telling him out of courtesy. Or because she needed someone to take her to the clinic.

“Are you going to keep it?” he asked, breaking the tense silence.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I thought long and hard, but after considering all the options, this is the only thing that feels right. I can’t kill or give up our baby. He or she is something that was made by us. It’s part of us.”

She put her hand on her stomach and suddenly the image in his mind changed. He saw her holding a little boy that looked like him when he was a kid. Saw her cuddle him close, comfort him when he was crying. Or maybe a little girl that looked just like her. A mini Pia with a big pink flower on her head like those goofy headbands he saw babies wear.

She would look so good with a baby. With his baby. And she wanted it. She didn’t want to give it up because it was already special to her.

A strange sensation of pride welled up in his chest. He’d made a baby. And she wanted it. And that made him so rock hard, he couldn’t stand it. He wanted her. And not just to feel her wet pussy around his cock, but he wanted it all. To sleep beside her at night, to get up at 2 a.m. to feed and comfort their crying baby. To go to Little League games, and school events, and so what? If she wanted a minivan, if that would make life easier, he’d buy her a fucking minivan. He wanted every part of it.