Hero: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Read Free Page B

never have let me spout my mouth in front of the damn girl all those years, Emma.”
    “Maybe I like having the two of you - as stubborn as each other, too.” The fondness in my mother’s tone warmed me, and I have her a quick grin. “Go on Vince, you’re not going to win this and you know it. Let her go and save the world, one misbegotten thug at a time.”
    He scowled again, but the frustration in his eyes warred with pride and I smiled as he leant in to kiss me on the forehead.
    “Take care of yourself. I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”
    “I will, Dad - don’t worry.”
    I didn’t tell him that I was desperately hoping the same thing as he gave my shoulders one last squeeze and stepped aside.
    Taking a breath, I gave them one last too-optimistic smile and stepped out of the warmth and security of our little house on Outhwaite Avenue.
    The freshly white-washed exterior, well-kept front garden and cheerily painted flower pots outside contrasted with the run-down neighborhood and made us stand out, but seeing the results of my parents’ attitude always made me smile. And they were right - they had rubbed off on me.
    My father’s pension from the army wasn’t much, but it was enough to live somewhere a little more secure - to have a slightly better life. But as my father had always put it - “I was born on these streets, and I’ll be damned if some upstart gangs are going to kick me out of them. If all the decent people leave, they win.”
    So instead, he carved and sold wooden furniture and painted plant pots in the little shop we lived behind - and spent his time and energy fixing up the neighborhood, showing others how to make things better.
    I was determined to do the same. If he could fight for his country, spending years in Vietnam and Afghanistan, then deal with the fallout of a bomb taking his leg - I could handle a street gang.
    This was my battle, and I could make things better in my own way. Through showing the stupid kids that joined these things that they could have something better - that someone cared enough to patch them up, and there was something better than mindless violence.
    And if along the way, I found something out to take down the ringleaders…then maybe we could have these streets back again. Maybe my little sister wouldn’t have so many nightmares.
    The nerves hit me again, but I pushed them aside. It was worth it. I could make things better.
     
    *  *  *
     
    “What the hell happened here?!” My exclamation was out of place in the quiet, echoing warehouse – but on seeing the miserable group gathered in the corner, I couldn’t help it.
    “Not your concern, girl. Just get your ass movin’.” Alfonso’s tone was curt, but at least Jorge’s self-appointed second in command didn’t stop long to leer at me this time.
    His pinched face seemed too distracted by the group of battered and bleeding guys gathered on sofas and pallets on one side of the large, open-plan space the 55th Streeters had made their base.
    I did as instructed even while I tried to keep my eyes and ears open - something was going on here. This last week, the number of guys who’d needed my attention had doubled, and it was more than just street scuffles.
    I tried not to be too obvious about my interest, especially as Alfonso had always been instinctively suspicious of me, but whatever was going on was concerning.
    With his gaze following me, I caught the eye of one of the kids lounging against the wall nearby, dark eyes watching from an expressionless face.
    “Go grab some of the supplies from the closet down there.” Nodding in the direction I meant, I moved towards the men waiting for me.
    The kid’s face twisted at taking orders from me, but although my position was a complex, shifting thing here, no one could object to my instruction in this case.
    I barely thought about it as my attention shifted to the rough looking group, quickly scanning and registering the cuts, bruises and