Married to the Mob: Fighting for Freedom Teaser

I was sitting in the family room with a bowl of ice cream on my ginormous belly. I was grateful for the brief freedom I was given by my warden, Alice. Soon, I’d be banished back up to my bedroom until my son would be born. I felt like a beached whale. Since Edward left for his business trip a couple of days after the baby shower, my stomach ballooned and I was done with baking a human.

“Bells, you got another gift for your cherub,” Alice said, struggling with carrying a large box.

“Let me get that,” Jake laughed and took it easily. “It’s from Marcus Volturi.”

“Edward was surprised that he hadn’t sent anything, but apparently it just arrived late,” I replied, sitting up stiffly and putting my bowl on the cocktail table. I waddled over to where Jake put the box. “Can you hand me a knife to break into this bad boy?”

“I’ll do it, preggo,” Alice said, shaking her head. “You sit your tiny ass down.”

“Tiny?” I scoffed. “My ass is the size of Texas. You’re full of crap.”

“Bella, your stomach is big. The rest of you is still itty-bitty,” Alice snickered, brandishing a knife and slicing into box. She pulled out papers and packing peanuts. I grimaced, watching the mess on my floor. “Relax, Bells, I’ll clean it.”

“All those little Styrofoam peanuts littering my hardwood floors. Gah!” I whimpered as I shifted on the couch.

“Jake, help me,” Alice chirped. They bent down and lifted a gorgeous hand-carved wooden rocker bassinet. “Oh, wow. This is beyond gorgeous.”

“Yes, it is,” I said, getting up and plucking the card from the downy pillow tucked inside. I opened the envelope, seeing an elegant cream card. “It’s from Marcus and Didyme.” I read further, smiling softly. “He carved this himself for his own children. When his children died, he had no one to give this to and he wanted to us to have it.”

“This handiwork is exquisite,” Alice said, her fingers gliding over the deep chestnut-colored wood. “Marcus is very talented.”

“He is,” I smiled. “Jake, can you bring this upstairs and put it in my bedroom?”

“Sure thing, Bella,” he nodded.

“You should be going up there, too, Bella,” Alice chided. “You’ve been up for far too long.”

“Come on, Alice. Please? Edward texted me and he said that he’s on his way home,” I pouted. “I want to see my husband and not from the confines of my bed. I’m getting cabin fever and going bat-shit crazy. The doctor said my blood pressure is normalized and I can do more. I can’t run a marathon, but I’m not confined to that king-sized prison. Please?”

“Fine,” Alice huffed. “You still need to take it easy, but you can stay down here. Brat.”

“I’m not a brat. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me,” I argued.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. Her cell phone chimed. “Actually, Jasper just said they landed at Chicago Executive. They should be home in an hour or so.” She read further, arching a brow. “Apparently, they gained an ally in NYC. Anthony and Edward helped with getting a brother from the Irish Mob, the McCarthy’s, from a Bratva sex/fight club.”

“What happened?” I asked, frowning. “This brother … he … he wasn’t …” I blanched, imagining the worst.

“No, he wasn’t sexually violated. He was beaten to a bloody pulp, but he wasn’t hurt that way,” Alice breathed. “You know dog fights?”

“Unfortunately,” I deadpanned. 

“The brother, Patrick, was like the runt dogs for the fighters to practice on,” Alice sneered. “From what Jasper told me, the guy was in bad shape, but alive, thanks to your husband, Anthony and Michael, the leader of the Irish Mob in New York.”

“I’ll be glad when Edward’s home,” I said, settling back on the couch. “I don’t sleep as well when Edward’s gone.”

“Me, neither,” Alice smirked.

“Since when do you sleep with my husband, Dr. Whitlock?” I quipped, tossing a pillow at her.