Texting My Mafia Savior (Text Me You Love Me #11)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

NICO

I follow the cab, a song of war echoing in my mind. When I saw him with his hand on my woman, I almost lost it. When I saw that, I didn’t have to question if she was my woman anymore. I didn’t have to second-guess it. So what if most of our bonding has happened through text messages? When I saw what I saw, that motherfucker touching her, I knew. She was mine the moment I saw her outside the cafe, looking up at the sky, already my angel.

Now, I watch as they pull up outside the apartment building. Enzo climbs out, laughing at his joke, then reaches into the back of the cab and forcibly drags Arria out. I close my eyes, take a breath, and warn myself to calm down. I’m ready to hurt him. I’ve never been readier for violence in my entire goddamn life.

She brushes him away, showing a poise and confidence that makes me proud. Then she gestures to the apartment. He steps forward, trying to loop his arm around her.

I can’t take it anymore. The plan was to wait until we were in the apartment, but the Nightmare comes out in me, the Barbarian. I turn into the man I was, The Savior, the man who kept this city as safe as my fucked-up position could let me.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” I roar. The street is quiet. Enzo turns and stares at me like I’m a ghost.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I leap on him, grab his neck, and kick his feet out from underneath him. I bury my hands in his throat so that his eyes bulge, and then I headbutt him for good measure, his nose exploding with blood. He gasps and falls to the ground as I let him go. I reach into my pocket, grab the cuffs, and shove his hands behind his back.

Before he can say anything or make any petty threats, I shove a gag into his mouth.

I look up to find Arria staring at me with her mouth open, her eyes wide. She looks scared of me. I never wanted her to look at me like that. But it’s too late to think about it now.

“Open the door,” I growl. “Before somebody sees us.”

After a moment, as if waking from a dream, she turns toward the door. “I thought we were going to wait until he was inside.”

Enzo mutters something through his gag. I shake him so hard I feel his bones rattle. “He’s lucky I didn’t end him right here in the street for daring to treat you like that, the bastard. No one may do that, Arria. No one.”

Arria walks ahead across the dimly lit lobby. The apartment building isn’t in a significant part of town, but we must be quick. Somebody could see us, call the cops. That would be bad. We can’t have Don Caruso showing up with the cops outside. He’ll never come in, then—that’s if Lucy can lure him here.

We take the stairs, Arria walking ahead, making sure nobody’s going to interrupt us. Enzo has shrunk back like the coward he is. I know this night is going to take a piece of me. I tried to live on the bright side, be The Savior, and nothing more. But they couldn’t help themselves. They had to summon the Nightmare.

Finally, we make it to the apartment. I shove Enzo inside, drag him over to a chair, grab the rope from the table, and begin tying him up. Arria looks at me with that same confusion on her pretty face. I hate it. I can’t stand it. She agreed to this plan but maybe the darkness was easier to handle in theory.

“Now what?” she says, having tied Enzo up.

“We pray Lucy can make it.”

“Then?”

I take Arria’s hands, holding them as gently as possible on a night like this. Already, parts of me are becoming cold. The savage in me is waking up. I’m going to have to kill two men tonight. There’s no going back. I’ve kidnapped the mafia prince. If I let him go now, he’d never forgive, never forget.

“We go on with our lives,” I tell her.

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t think about tomorrow,” I admit. “Tonight is messed up enough.”

She squeezes my hands supportively. “You’re doing the right thing. We’re doing the right thing. We’re in this together.”

“When you looked at me earlier, I thought you were judging me.”

She shakes her head. “This isn’t my world. It’s a shock. That’s all. I am not judging you, I promise.”

My nerves get worse the longer we wait. Every second we spend sitting here, with Enzo tied up and Arria unable to hide her anxiety, is another second we risk everything going wrong. When my phone buzzes, I leap on it. Is it Lucy?

I smile, somehow. Arria’s a miracle worker.

Arriana: I don’t want to keep talking in front of HIM. How are you holding up?

She’s looking at me with those understanding, beautiful eyes of hers.

Me: I’m doing okay, angel. Mostly, I don’t want you to fear me. We both know what I’m going to have to do.

Arriana: For the city. For us. You said they were bad men .

Enzo looks at me, then at Arria. I glare at Enzo, before he can smirk, laugh or make some other derisive gesture. He lowers his gaze. He’s a coward without his men backing him up—when he can’t bully women and kids.

Me: They’re evil. If I’m the Savior, they’re mafia monsters.

Arriana: What will you do to him if Lucy doesn’t get here?

Me: I’ll have to get rid of him now either way. He’s seen too much. He knows how much I care about you. How much you’ve changed me. When this is over, I’m going to put the darkness behind me. I never wanted to be part of this world. We’ll build a life worth living, Arria.

The whole time I type, Arria watches me with emotion on her pretty face.

I watch her as she types. Her cheeks are flushed with her emotions. Her thumbs move quickly. I want to hold her, glide my hands through her hair, be with her.

Arriana: I was going to ask, what about Dad? What about my travels? Blah, blah, blah… Here, now, none of it seems to matter. It’s like all this evil has made me focus on the good.

Me: I know the feeling .

Arria freezes when I stand up. Her senses aren’t as attuned to her surroundings as mine are. Outside, footsteps approach the door. I stalk to the edge of the hallway as Enzo moans through his gag, trying to warn his father. Both of them are sadists, I remind myself. Both of them have done unspeakable things.

I almost regretted telling Arria about all the things they’d done. Why did I do it, to absolve myself in her eyes?

“This is quite the love palace, Lucia,” Dominic drawls. “Are the walls soundproof? You’ll be making lots of noises tonight… not all of them good.” He laughs coldly. “You know you have to pay me back for spending so long with that mafia savior moron.”

“The walls aren’t soundproof, but nobody around here cares what noises we make, baby.”

Lucy’s tone is so clearly fake to me. Men like Dominic hear what they want.

The door opens. Dominic walks into the room and pauses, staring at his son.

“What the he?—”

I leap on him, wrapping my arm around his neck and squeezing tight. His legs kick as I choke him until finally, he becomes still, falling unconscious. I carry him across the room and place him on the second chair I’ve set out, gag him, then tie him up.

“Lucy, take Arria home,” I say, my voice and soul harder. “Did you bring Dominic’s car?”

“Yes. He has the keys,” Lucy says breathlessly.

“Where is it parked?”

“Directly across the street.”

“Okay, good. Take her home. I don’t want her to see this. She’s already more involved than I ever wanted her to be.”

Enzo is kicking, moaning, trying to yell through the gag. He knows what comes next. He knows who he’s dealing with now. I’m not the kindhearted mafia man anymore. I’m not the do-gooder. I’m not the good samaritan.

I’m the Nightmare, the Barbarian. I’m the man who, when Dominic set three men on me, had to hold me back so I didn’t kill them all.

“I’ll see you soon, Nico, okay?” Arria says softly. “Whatever happens, I won’t judge you. Whatever happens, I still care about you. Okay?”

I look down, unable to meet her eye.

“Come on,” Lucy says. “Let’s get out of here. He doesn’t want us here for this part.”

The two women leave. I walk across the room and open a briefcase. Inside are the tools from my old life, the enforcer days.

“I wanted to put all this behind me,” I say sternly. “I did nothing wrong. All I did was keep an innocent woman away from you, Dominic. All I did to you, Enzo, was stand up for a woman who didn’t deserve the filth you threw at her. You made fun of her body. It was immature. It was pathetic. Let’s face it. You’ve done much, much worse. Perhaps I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

I turn, curling my hand tightly around the grip of the knife.

I never wanted to be this man. I’ve always wanted to do good. But for Arria, my angel, I’ll do anything.