9. Mae

9

MAE

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

The world around me was moving in slow motion. Three colorful motorcycles drove through the graveyard, and the three helmet-clad men on top of them whipped out black guns and started firing at everything and anything.

People around me started screaming and yelling. Countless men and women pulled out their own guns, but they weren't fast enough. They exploded like red fireworks and flew backward over more people scrambling out of the way. Chairs splintered. Flowers flew upward as their petals were ripped off by passing bullets. Those with sense ducked to the ground while others tried to run away, but there was nowhere to go. The only protection was other gravestones that cracked and splintered under the hail of gunfire.

Closer and closer they drove, and then I was hit by something so solid that all remaining air in my lungs was forced out. My world tipped, and I hit the ground so hard that the taste of iron burst over the back of my tongue. Rocco was on top of me, pinning me to the grass with his entire body. Dino landed next to us, draping over Rocco while wrapping an arm around my head. The strange, low silence I'd been lost in suddenly faded and everything became instantly deafening.

The pop-pop of gunfire erupted overhead. People's screams became piercing, and the yells of returning gunfire were so loud I couldn't make out what anyone was saying. Dino's recognizable tones drifted above me, but I couldn't decipher them. It was as if everyone was speaking another language, and then, when Rocco spoke, I realized they were.

Italian. They were yelling in Italian and I didn't understand a word of it.

Pinned to the grass, protected by Rocco and Dino, I focused on trying to breathe. Then, through splintered chair legs and clumps of kicked-up dirt, I saw death.

Bodies littered the graveside, catching people's feet as those still upright sprinted around. I don't know if they were going toward the shooters or away, but the deafening roar of motorcycles was quickly joined by the rumble of cars and the squeak of brakes. Then pinching hands grabbed at my arm and waist. I was hauled upward, much to my terror, and a scream escaped me as I was flung from Rocco into the waiting arms of Dino.

"Take her!" Rocco yelled, and his face swam in front of mine. I blinked, and hot tears dripped down my cheeks. Rocco's warm hand suddenly cupped my face, and all the commotion and panic around us froze. For this moment, there was nothing but him, me, and Dino's arms around my waist.

"Trust him," Rocco said. "Trust Dino. I will come back for you."

Then he was sprinting away toward a crumpled body on the ground. " Mamma !"

A cold, sick sensation flooded through my chest. Dino scooped me up fully into his arms, and I was carried swiftly away from the carnage. Within ten seconds, Dino threw me into the backseat of a car alongside another man who was stemming a sickening amount of blood flow from an open wound on his shoulder.

Dino threw himself into the driver's seat, pulled the car into gear, and then we were leaving the graveyard behind in a squeal of tires and creaking metal.

What the ever-loving fuck was going on?

There was no time to process, no time to blink, and as I slumped back in my seat trying to catch my breath, I noticed my palms were sticky with blood.

Blood?

My blood?

Where the hell did it come from?

"Dino," I gasped shakily, but he didn't look at me. He was hunched over the steering wheel as we raced through the town, and a phone was glued to his ear.

Blood. There was blood.

And guns.

Rocco's mother was on the grass.

People were screaming. Crying.

Dying.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no!

Hot acid rushed up my throat, and I had no warning, then I was spewing onto the back of the seat in front of me. The bleeding man next to me didn't even spare me a glance. He was too busy on his phone, yelling in Italian.

It felt like no time had passed when we suddenly stopped in front of a house so tall it blocked out the sun. Dino got out of the car and was by my side, pulling me out with him in such a hurry that one of my strapped shoes got caught in the door and slipped from my foot.

"Dino," I gasped, trying to arrange my thoughts in a coherent attempt to ask him anything. Dino didn't listen, or he didn't hear me. He had his arm around my waist, and he dragged me into the house, still ranting on his phone.

Then he turned to me as we came to a stop in the hallway, and for the first time since the graveyard, he seemed to notice the blood on my hands.

"Mae!" Sheer panic flooded his voice and the phone slipped from his fingers. He was on me, turning me around and pulling at my dress, grabbing my chin and moving my hair. "Where are you hurt?" he demanded. "Where?!"

"It's not mine," I said quietly.

Both of Dino's hands cupped my face, and he forced me to stare into his deep, ocean-blue eyes. "Where are you hurt?"

"It's not my blood," I managed again, tears flooding my eyes. "I think it's Rocco's."

Night fell, and a deathly silence enveloped the house Dino brought me to. The study he sat me in after going over my body to ensure I wasn't injured was filled with empty bookshelves and had a slightly moldy scent to it. It lingered in the air even after the scotch and three cups of tea he gave me. The blood definitely wasn't mine, so I feared that it was indeed Rocco's.

Dino also refused to tell me anything. He spent most of his time on the phone, talking so fast and angrily that I could only imagine what he was saying. In some strange way, it was oddly comforting just listening to him. The only word I recognized was Rocco's name a few times, but other than that, I was in the dark.

Until, finally, the door opened and in walked Rocco. His shirt was ripped and stained with blood, and a makeshift bandage was wrapped around his upper right arm. His slick, black hair was a complete mess and his face was long and drawn.

"Dino, where is—Mae!" Rocco rushed to me the moment he saw me, just as Dino rushed to him.

"Rocco!" My mind had spun with theories for hours as to what the blood could have meant. Did Rocco get shot and we never noticed? Did he die out there, and I would never know?

"Are you alright?" Rocco's grimy hand cupped my cheek, and his eyes darted over every inch of my face, then down to the spare shirt Dino had given me after tearing at my dress. "Are you hurt?"

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not hurt, but I'm very fucking confused."

Rocco offered me a small, relieved smile, and then he looked at Dino. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing." Dino held both hands up. "I've been on disaster control since we got here, but I told her nothing. Not for her lack of trying."

"It's true." I grabbed at Rocco's hand as he turned away, causing him to stop and glance down at our joined hands. "Rocco, what is going on?"

His attention lingered, then his gorgeous honey eyes snapped up to mine. He looked sexy like this, all roughed up and filthy, and I scolded myself internally for even daring to think such a thing.

"It's complicated."

"How?" I snapped, and the relief that he was okay quickly bled into anger. "Do you have any idea how fucking terrified I was? There was gunfire—fucking gunshots in Baxton!—and everyone was screaming, and there was so much blood, and all I could think about was not making it home to my son! Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Rocco's face tightened and his brows pinched together. "I don't," he replied, accepting a glass of scotch that Dino pressed into his other hand. "But Mae, I would never let anything happen to you."

I scoffed. "Then tell me the truth. What happened? Do I need to talk to the police or something?"

Dino scoffed in the corner. "The police? Please."

"Dino," Rocco warned. Then he turned to me. "Mae, please?—"

"No! Tell me what the hell is going on! I can't stop shaking, my stomach feels like all my organs have ripped apart and tied themselves up the wrong way, and I feel like I need to shit constantly. I'm scared, so fucking tell me what's going on!"

"Fine!" Rocco snapped sharply, then he took a deep breath and pulled his hand away from my touch. "Fine. Mae? I'm in the Mafia. More than that, I lead the Mafia."

"What?"

"The Italian Families in and around New York all came together under my father's rule. It's my birthright. It shouldn't have been mine for at least another ten years, but my father was assassinated. We're on the brink of war between all the Italian Families, and the Irish and the Russian and whoever else wants a piece of us now that my father is dead, and I…" Rocco stopped and pressed a hand to his mouth, massaging his jaw. "When the Don dies, there's a rule. An old law."

"A really old law," Dino remarked.

"Peace until after the funeral. A grieving process. But some fuckers decided it was the best time to take us out and I… I can't tell you why because I don't know why. But I can promise you that wasn't supposed to happen. I wouldn't have asked you to come if I thought there was going to be danger. "

This… had to be a dream. Rocco was talking so casually as if every word out of his mouth was as normal as discussing a grocery list. The Mafia? Rocco was in the Mafia?

"Mae—"

He stepped forward, and I raised both hands, taking a step back. "Wait… you–you're in the Mafia? And what–what about you?" I glanced at Dino, who shrugged.

"His best friend. Bodyguard, head of security. Whatever you wanna call it."

"You're both…?" I pointed between them and tried to repeat what Rocco had said in my mind. "And your Mom, is she…?" In my mind, I could still see her on the ground in a heap.

"She's fine," Rocco replied with a weary sigh. "She's pissed but she's fine."

The Mafia.

Rocco and Dino were Mafia men.

Killers. Criminals.

Dangerous.

"Take me home." In that moment, the only clear and certain thing I knew was that I had to get home to my son, Zack.

"Mae, please." Rocco started forward again, but I stepped back once more.

"No. No. This is insane. This is fucking insane. Take me home."

"Mae, I'm sorry. You were never supposed to?—"

"What?" I snapped. "Never supposed to find out you're a criminal? Never supposed to get shot at? I don't care. I don't want to listen to any of this. I don't want to be involved. "

"Please," Rocco tried again, but this time, he didn't move. "Please, let me explain."

"No!" I snapped. "Are you insane? Whatever the fuck this is, whatever it really is, I don't care! You're dangerous and I–I nearly died. I have a child, for fuck's sake, and you!" I pointed at him, pouring all my fear into the rage in my heart.

The rising feelings for him that had confused me for so long were suddenly no longer worth it. No matter how he was, how hot Dino was, or how amazing it was to see him again, I couldn't listen to this.

I couldn't listen to anything that would make me a criminal too. The only thing I wanted, the only thing I needed, was to go home to my son and never see either of them ever again.

"You're an asshole and I want to go home. Take me home. Take me home ! And you stay away from me, you hear me? Whatever is going on, I want nothing to do with it. You stay away from me."

"Okay." Rocco's face fell and then hardened to the same look he had when he walked in. "Dino, take her home."

I couldn't breathe until I was back outside, stuck on the revelation that Rocco was Mafia. A career criminal. I could have died because I wanted to see him again, could have lost my life and left Zack with nothing.

Nothing in my life would be worth that.

"Mae," Dino said, holding the car door open. "You have to let him explain. None of this is what you think."

"Did I get fucking shot at today?" I snapped, glaring up at Dino.

"Yeah."

"Did I nearly fucking die?"

"Yeah."

"That's all I need to know. Now take me home to my son and leave me the hell alone."