Mia hurried along the sidewalk away from the church. She’d done her duty. Everyone had seen her, and Dante was now busy shaking hands and playing politics on behalf of their father, while Kat and Mama smiled dutifully beside him. Although she’d wanted to get him alone to ask if he’d been serious about drawing her into the family business, she wasn’t prepared to spend any more time with her family and she was running late for her Sunday afternoon class.
Her tension eased when she turned the corner and spotted her cherry red 1993 Mustang convertible parked in the shadow of a tall, brick apartment building. Although it had been well-used when she bought it and was now in even rougher shape, it was the first thing that was truly hers, paid for with the money from her first security contract after she started her business.
She unlocked the door and slid into the seat, trying to push away memories of the funeral, the shiver that had slid down her spine when she looked out over the sea of mob bosses, captains, soldiers, and associates from the three Las Vegas crime families. They had come together ostensibly to mourn the death of one of their own, but in reality to see how the power vacuum would shake out. She had narrowly escaped being part of that. Married into the mob. Imprisoned for life.
Mia turned the key. The car turned over but wouldn’t start. After several tries she slammed her fist on the dashboard, hoping the little jolt would shake it awake, but no such luck. Maybe it was a quick fix. She had twenty minutes to get it started before she’d have to call a cab. With an irritated groan, she grabbed her tools from the back and popped the hood.
Doing her best not to get grease on her dress, Mia leaned over the engine and proceeded to go through her usual four-step check.
“Need a hand?”
Startled, she drew back, dropping her wrench, only to freeze when Nico stepped out of the shadows. Damn. She hadn’t seen him at the church service, but it made sense for him to be there. Every boss and capo would have attended Don Falzone’s funeral out of respect.
“Ah. It’s Mr. Mob Boss.” Her stomach gave a nervous twist. “Are you planning to kidnap me again?”
A smile ghosted his lips. “Only if you’ve got an assault rifle tucked under your dress. And a little discretion, bella. You never know who is listening.”
Mia’s cheeks heated. Nico was right. The feds were everywhere, trying to bring down the Las Vegas families after decimating the mob in New York. It was why the top Cosa Nostra bosses had implemented the rule that no associate could be made unless he had put in ten years as a soldier, the theory being that no federal agent was going to give ten years of his life to go undercover and infiltrate the mob. Dante’s bodyguard, Rev, had only just been made after a long ten-year wait.
“No assault rifle.” She held up her empty hands.
“Then no.” He handed her the small black handbag she had taken to Vincenzo’s the night of the massacre. “I believe this is yours.”
“Thank you.” Their fingers touched when she took the bag and she felt the now familiar zing of electricity spark between them. She couldn’t believe that he’d returned her bag. Not only that, he’d apparently sought her out to do so. It wasn’t typical mobster behavior, but then Nico wasn’t like any wiseguy she knew.
Nico’s gaze flicked to her open hood. “It appears you need some help.”
“I can fix my car myself.” Part of her wanted to turn around and show him just how competent she was at fixing her engine, but the other part warned her not to turn her back. He was a made guy, a criminal, and a very dangerous person to be around. She had no doubt, if she had been responsible for the massacre, he would not have hesitated to kill her. And yet, she couldn’t forget the night he’d shielded her from Danny’s death, nor could she forget the touch of his hand on her cheek …
“You weren’t afraid to accept my help at Luigi’s,” he murmured softly. It was a challenge that dared her to respond, but she didn’t like being manipulated.
“I’m not afraid. I just don’t need it.”
His eyes gleamed as if she’d fallen into a trap. “Then you won’t mind if I watch.”
“Why?” Mia bristled. “Do you think women can’t fix cars, just like you think they can’t be hackers?”
He pressed his lips together and Mia almost laughed. So easy to read. Yes, that’s exactly what he thought.
“Don’t answer or share your misogynistic views with me, or I’ll be tempted to pull out my knife and do some serious damage.” Her hands found her hips, and she glared, although she felt more amused than angry when he lifted a warning eyebrow. Yeah, she dared to threaten him because for some crazy reason he didn’t scare her. “I do, in fact, know how to fix cars because practically everything that can go wrong with a car has gone wrong with mine—the radiator burst, the voltage regulator busted, the carburetor spews gas, the ignition wire broke, and I’ve had more flat tires than I can count. I had to take an automotive-repair course just to keep up.”