Cosa Nostra: A Steamy Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 3), Nicci Harris [read a book txt] 📗

As three police cars roll to a stop behind us, their sirens deadening to silence, the blinking, whirling blue and red lights still filling the spaces around me, my world tilts. This isn't routine. My belt. This is my fault.

My belt.

Reaching for the belt and tugging on it, I whimper, "I need to get this on-"

Max leans across me and belts me in, a quick movement that probably makes little sense to him but one I needed. And he knew it. His head snaps up, watching over my shoulder. Black shadows cross us. His stern, territorial gaze drops to my belly for a split second.

And the look in eyes. . .

My heart splinters.

He stares up at my face and now I can’t breathe because he's not Max. He's blank. The grey-blue irises I know and love are pitch-black. "Don't move from this seat. No matter what." He tugs on the belt. "Leave this on."

"Max Butcher," I hear a man state, formal and authoritarian. "Please step from the vehicle with your hands up."

"Hands on the dashboard, Carter," another states.

My eyes widen.

What? What is happening?

Then I blink. It's too long. A long blink. Must be.

Because that's all it takes.

One second.

One blink.

And I don't catch my lover's expression before he steps from the vehicle.

The door slams behind him. It’s a haunting sound. A separating sound. A sound that cuts the connection between us physically and emotionally. And I'm sure he has taken parts of me out there with him because my heart feels wrong. Fractured.

"Carter!" I yell, irrationality taking hold of me like an entity all its own. Like a snake wrapping itself around my body, suffocating me. "HELP HIM!"

I hear a click and realise Carter has locked me in the car. "Stay, Miss Slater. It'll be okay. Stay calm."

Max raises his hands above his head as he steps into the middle of the road. It is then that I see that they have their weapons drawn, pointing straight. At. Max.

No. At my Max.

NO!

I can't breathe. "Carter!" I wail, squeezing the door handle, tugging at it, hearing the click click click as I draw it back desperately, over and over. I need out. "Let me out!”

The Chrysler's headlights illuminate Max as he walks forward.

I start to suck at the air, as if it is somehow thick and sparse and I have to fight for it.

I will fight.

Pressing my palms to the door, I lean against the glass. Several uniformed bodies now surround my dangerous tall lover. The waves crash hard against the rocks. I inhale that salty air - that's the ocean. Wild. Free. Uncontainable. Like Max.

Helpless to do anything, I press one of my hands to my lower belly. "Daddy will be okay. He will. Nothing can keep him from us."

I watch as the officers approach him with caution.

As Max threads his fingers together behind his head.

As it takes three of them to kick his knees out and force him to the ground.

As they kneel between his shoulder blades, pinning him.

As they handcuff his wrists behind his back.

"Max Butcher, you are under arrest for the murder of Marco Cappelli. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. . ."

Cassidy

“Everyone is made up of little contradictory pieces and you should never judge another person's decisions because you don't know the pieces they have to choose from.”

"I should go and check on him," Xander says, standing up quickly as something shatters. The sound of Bronson in the gym is riotous even from the couch I'm perched on in the living room. His roar is animalistic, raw, and pained, and I'm being drawn to it. It matches my insides. I want to go in there and hold him close. Have him hold me. Share our pain and anger and helplessness. But I'm just not sure that's a good idea. I've never seen him angry before and this is more like a manic blind rage. A flicked switch in his head. I wince when I hear a howl of fury, followed by a smash and a hiss of pain.

Stacey touches Xander's forearm, subtly persuading him to sit back down beside her and wait. In any other situation, she would arm herself and join his cause or. . . I don't know. But tonight, she isn't. I've never seen her so. . . passive.

"Leave him," Clay orders, leaning back into the single recliner. Aurora sits quietly on the armrest beside him. She is usually such a big personality; her lack of comments feel uncomfortable. I blink at her. At her appearance. She has just been dragged from her bed at 1 a.m. and still looks like CEO Barbie. With her long dark hair pinned back neatly and her black column dress somehow wrinkle free, she looks like she is on her way to an executive job in the city. She must be a witch.

"Leave your brother. He needs to blow off steam. You know what happens when he doesn't," Butch states, positioning himself on the chair opposite mine, offering me all his attention. "You should get some sleep, Cassidy." Leaning forward onto his knees, he says, "It's nearly two. You don't need to be here when Jimmy arrives."

"I'm staying right here," I mutter, my eyes downcast, hiding the blatant accusation in them. A feeling I can't drown. It is all their fault. It's Butch's fault for sharing his sons as if they were commodities. It's Jimmy's fault for existing.

I want Max.

Pulling my knees up onto the couch, I hold them in close and rest my cheek on top. Forcing a kind of mindlessness, I will myself to focus exclusively on my breaths in and out. I attempt not to let my mind wander to a future without Max. Where