Mobsters & Mistletoe Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
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I sighed. “She’s getting nervous. Maybe even starting to see me as competition.”

“That scares me.”

“Don’t let it. This is just street politics.”

“But, will she come after you?”

“I’ll talk to her, before that happens.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Zuri swallowed. “What will you tell her?”

“That I want to step back, and take a lower position. Something more out of sight.”

Zuri nodded. “Will that be enough?”

“Francesca is like family to me. We grew up in the foster care system together.” I shook my head. “She wouldn’t betray me.”

“She better not.” Zuri sneered.

A smile spread across my face.

The warmth from her fierceness melded with the love in my heart, creating a shield around us—a shield I was determined to fortify with every bit of my being.

I kissed her cheek. “I’ll go, Zuri, and get it done.”

“What?”

I pushed myself out of bed, her eyes following my every move. “I need to do this. For us.”

“The streets are icy. It’s snowing.” Zuri pouted. “And I want my big sexy man next to me.”

Fuck.

That pout almost made me get back in bed.

Determined, I shook the possibility of staying, out of my head and put on my boxer briefs and then my black pants. “No. I’ll settle things with Francesca tonight, and I’ll be back before Christmas morning to open my presents.”

My muscles flexed as I quickly started to put on my clothes. Each piece of expensive fabric was a layer of armor, a transition from the man in Zuri’s arms to the enforcer who dealt with Crimson Mob’s dark whims.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” I slipped on my black shirt and fastened the buttons.

Zuri got up from the bed, picked up my red tie on her nightstand and helped me put it on. “Be careful, Dante. . .please.”

“Always, baby.” I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers.

At first, our kiss was gentle and loving, a whisper of the passion that always lingered between us.

But soon, my hunger for her took over, as it always did.

Craving more, I deepened the kiss.

Our tongues intertwined.

My hands traveled down her body, savoring every naked curve until they reached her soft, luscious ass.

And there I held on tightly and groaned.

It took all my strength to pull away, break the kiss, and finish dressing.

She said yes. She actually said yes.

The thought resonated in my head as I grabbed my shoes, put them on, and laced them up.

Once done, I went to the bedside table where my two favorite guns rested. They’d been with me through thick and thin, loyal companions no matter what kind of trouble I got into.

A smile tugged at my lips.

The first was La Amante—the Lover. It was a Colt 1911 .45 caliber handgun with a matte black finish.

The second was Il Combattente—the Fighter. It was a Beretta PX4 Storm .40 caliber handgun with slim silver slide.

I grabbed the guns, holstered them, then looked at Zuri.

She watched with a mixture of anxiety and love.

I licked my lips. “Come here.”

She stepped forward and I wrapped her in my arms, caressing those wild spirals and kissing her forehead. “It’s alright. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You better be.”

I left her, grabbed my long coat, and walked to the door.

“I love you, Dante.”

My heart warmed. “And I’ll love you always.”

I stepped into the cold wind.

Wind-blown snowflakes flurried.

The door shut behind me.

Christmas lights blinked.

Aside from piles of snow on the sidewalk, the streets were empty and devoid of human life.

Francesca will understand or. . .

I didn’t even want to think of what I would do if she ever threatened Zuri’s and my happiness.

Snow crunched beneath my feet with each step.

And then, noise sounded up ahead.

I gazed into the darkness.

What’s that?

Out of the shadows, I saw ten men walking my way, like they had been waiting for me to leave Zuri’s place for a while. But that couldn’t be true.

What the fuck is going on with this group?

Clearly, they just happened to be on this abandoned, snowy street. There was no way someone would ever think they could come after me.

Still, the slow, deliberate pace of their approach shoved tension in my shoulders.

They came closer and closer and closer.

Soon, I spotted black ski masks covering their faces.

They’re coming for me. Which must mean that they are. . .suicidal.

I continued to walk toward them, assessing each man.

They moved as one, every step a carefully coordinated dance that spoke of discipline and purpose. The moonlight glinted off their jackets, each adorned with a blood-red outline of a spider’s fang on their sleeves.

It was the unmistakable insignia of the Crimson Mob. In fact, it had been my idea long ago when I helped Francesca start it. The fang was a symbol of our venomous loyalty to her.

No. This does not make sense.

Once ten feet ran between me and the group, I stopped, and they began to form a tight circle around me.



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