Page 15 of The Mobster’s Prize

I laugh.

“Do you realize how crazy that sounds coming from a mobster?” He’s the one who can’t be trusted.

“I have to know I can come home, share my life with my woman, and know she isn’t going to rat me out to the cops.”

That’s the problem with organized crime. There are too many secrets.

“You know it works both ways, right?”

He turns his head, his eyes narrowing—again.

“The woman has to agree to live that life, too,” I point out. “I can’t imagine a sane woman willingly signing up for it.” Anyone who does want that life is asking for trouble.

“It’s time for bed.” His entire body tenses, shifting away from me. “No more talking.”

And just like that, the wall goes back up.

I don’t know why that upset him so much. It’s the truth. A woman has to be willing to live with the possibility that cops could show up at her door one day and tell her that her husband has been arrested.

Or worse.

Killed.

I would never want that life. Being part of my dad’s was bad enough.

“Good night,” I tell him.

“Still talking.”

I bite back my scowl. Guess our little truce was short lived. For a moment there, I was almost starting to like him. Almost. But it would be stupid to fall for my captor anyway.

CHAPTER 6

Dag

“Look at all that snow.”

She comes up to my side, shivering as she wraps her arms around herself. We got dumped on last night. A good twelve inches and counting. It looks like the weatherman was right for once.

“Can we go skiing?” she asks, sounding excited.

Not sure why she thinks this is some kind of ski vacation. I’m supposed to keep her locked down. And I certainly won’t be letting her out of my sight. Besides, I don’t own any skis.

“No.”

I turn and usher her back inside before all the heat gets let out.

“What about sledding?”

She follows me into the living room while I add another log to the fire.

“Nope. Don’t own a sled either.”

“Can we build a snowman?”

I slowly turn my head.

“Can you ever be quiet?”