LISA

—Billy, Get Your Cockblocking Posse Out of Here!—


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"Nini!" I roar, my heart leaping out of my chest. With blood and brains splattered all over her and her body not moving, I'm about to lose my fucking mind.

"The grand finale," Paul utters from nearby, pride evident in his tone.

Death—or her goddamn dad—rushes forward and kneels beside her. I struggle until a hand clutches my shoulder.

"I've got you, outlaw," an elderly woman says as she starts to work the knots behind me.

A dog jumps into my lap and it takes all of two seconds to realize it's my dog. "Bingie boy," I choke out, overcome with emotion as the cute fucker licks my bruised face. "That's a good boy."

My hands loosen and I pull the dog to my chest, nuzzling my nose against his neck as I rise on shaky feet. Nini is sitting up now and as soon as she sees me, she jolts to her feet, pushes past Death, and nearly knocks me and my dog over. Kuma yaps happily between us as we hug. She sobs and it breaks something inside me. I don't know what kind of crazy strings my girl tugged on to pull off this mega shenanigan, but I swear, the moment I get her out of here, she'll never have to worry about danger again.

I feel eyes on me and when I look up to see Death glaring at me, I lose it.

"Hold my dog," I tell Nini, pushing my prince into her arms.

She squawks and Kuma yaps when I storm over to Death. He squares his shoulders, ready for me. I get right in his face and poke his ridiculously hard abs.

"You're a weak little bitch for what you did to my girl," I snarl, my spit spraying his face. "Weak. You left her to the goddamn wolves." I wave my hand in the air. "And then you played me to do your bidding. So much could have gone wrong and yet…" I choke on my words, hating to think of anything bad happening to her. "You let others protect what you should have taken care of."

He winces and frowns.

"But don't worry, buddy," I tell him lowly. "I'm taking care of her now. And I'll be damned if I let anyone—even you—get in my way. I may not be a murdering mobster, but I can fuckin' Google it and learn. Capiche, Dr. Death?"

"Mr.—"

"Dad," Nini cuts him off. "Just say okay."

Death looks murderous, but one quick look at his daughter and his evil glare melts away to one of love. It annoys me, but I know Nini has that effect on everyone. Even mobster fuckfaces.

"Okay," he mutters.

That was easy. I want to poke at him some more, but my girl has Rossi's fucking guts on her and I'm desperate to get her into the shower with me so I can scrub it all away.

"Oh no," Nini whines. "We have to get out of here now!"

My heart stammers in my chest as I follow her gaze, expecting to see a bad guy with a gun. What I see is worse. Way worse.

"Bing! Close your eyes and run!" I grab Nini's hand and we get the hell out of there.

No one, and I mean no one, wants to watch an old lady and Van Damme play tonsil hockey. Fucking sick.

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My mom sucked.

Bad.

She made family dinners awkward as fuck as kids.

But nothing, not even my mother, could outdo Death. He takes the cake. Fucking weirdo. Nini is happy, though, and I suffer through it for her.

Death stands, tapping a butter knife to his wine glass to get everyone's attention. "I would like to make a speech before we eat," he says in a solemn tone. "Everyone at this table was brought here because of one person. And that person is my daughter, Nini. She is the center—just as her mother was—of everyone's world."

He gets murmured agreements from everyone, including me, and a yap from Kuma. It's been a few days since the shakedown at the warehouse. I slept off my injuries with Cala and Nini looking in on me as my personal nurses. Death stayed away to deal with cleanup and arrived back today. The house has been lively thanks to three elderly visitors from the East Coast.

"So because she is the heart of us all, and she considers you all family in some way, then you are under the Lamberto protection now." His eyes cut over to mine. "I'm sorry to those I've hurt along the way, but especially to Nini. I thought I was keeping her safe, but all I did was break her precious heart. I'm going to put it back together one day at a time."

Ah, jeez. The fucker is a poet and his words have their intended effect. Nini preens.

"This ham's dry," the one I learned is named Beatrice barks out, not at all concerned that a mobster is trying to have a heartfelt moment.

"Your ham's dry," Mabel barks at her.

"Actually," Henry pipes up, "it's not—"

"La-la-la," Nini says, covering her ears. "I don't want to hear about geriatric bedroom sports!"

Kuma yaps in agreement.

"Dearest Mabel," Van Damme, er Paul, croons. "Would you like some gravy?"

"Gagging!" Nini cries out.

The old ladies start swatting and Cala giggles from beside me. I turn and give my adorable niece a silly grin that makes her laugh harder. My eyes skim over to Chaeng's and for the first time in years, she seems happy. At peace. When I dart my eyes up to Death, he's watching me like a hawk. Then, as though he can't help it, he drags his gaze to my sister, his features softening.

"Pappa Death, can we have ice cream? This ham is yucky," Cala says, poking at the rubbery piece on her plate.

"Cala!" Chaeng scolds. "That was rude. Pappa Death worked hard on that!"

Kuma yaps from Cala's lap and when Chaeng looks away, my niece slips the dog the goods. I'm wondering if I can con Kuma into my lap to handle my plate too.

Everyone is babbling and talking over each other, but rather than feel like chaos, it feels comfortable now. Death gives up and sits down, getting sucked into Henry's war stories. Beatrice and Mabel argue loudly while Paul attempts to play peacemaker. Chaeng and Cala talk to Kuma, all smiles.

I lean in to Nini and nuzzle her ear. "This ham sucks. Want to get out of here? I know a quiet place."

She turns and accepts a quick kiss. "Let's get out of here."

We sneak away from the lively table and the moment we're out of the dining room and outside, I scoop her into my arms. She lets out a peal of laughter that sets my soul on fire. God, I love this woman.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, her fingers brushing through my hair.

"Somewhere romantic."

"Ooh, I love romantic somewheres. Run faster!"

I playfully nip at her cheek as I carry her down to the same barn I was held in not too long ago. I'm sure there's a pile of hay we can roll around in. The barn is lit up from the setting sun, but I find us a spot in the corner that's private. Nini giggles as I set her to her feet and attack her pouty mouth with mine. I steal her panties and pocket them before grabbing her ass to lift her up. Pressing her back against the barn wall, I take my time kissing her deeply. My dick is hard as fuck in my jeans and I take pleasure grinding against her naked pussy.

"I need you," she begs. "Please."

As much as I wanted to play naughty nurse with her, we couldn't. We had a four-year-old breathing down our necks like a miniature Daddy Death.

"I want to take my time with you," I tell her, nipping at her bottom lip. "I've missed you."

"And you're gonna miss me some more if you take too long. They'll find us eventually and I'd rather it not be with your tongue on my hoo-haw!"

I snort. "Hoo-haw?"

"I need your bad girl."

"That part is a boy, baby"

"Okay. Put your bad boy in it."

"Maybe he's a good boy." I unbuckle my jeans and pull out my dick.

"Ohhh," she moans when I push into her wet hoo-haw. "Definitely a bad boy. Like super naughty. Devilish even. Oh God!"

I drive into her hard, loving the way her moans echo loudly in the barn.

Clomp-clomp-clomp-clomp.

Clomp-clomp-clomp-clomp.

Clomp-clomp-clomp-clomp.

"What's that?" I mutter, pulling my mouth from hers.

"No one cares!" she cries out. "Keep stabbing me with the bad boy!"

"Sexy, babe. Super sexy dirty talk."

"Right?"

"Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a!"

"What was that?" I grunt, fucking my wife in a hard, claiming way.

"Billy—"

"Lisa—"

"Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!"

"And Juniper!"

"What the—" I bark out, stalling in my thrusting to look over my shoulder.

Like some creepy Stephen King shit, we have five goats standing there staring us the fuck down.

"Oh, hell no!" I bellow. "Billy, get your cockblocking posse out of here!"

"Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!"

"Billy!" Nini admonishes. "Don't talk back to your sister-in-law!"

"What? His what?"

"Keep going, wife! Destroy the hoo-haw!"

"Fuck, babe, I can't work in these conditions!"

"For better or worse, Lisa! You promised!"

"Not for better or fucking traumatizing!"

"Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a!"

"Shhh," an old lady whispers loudly. "Henry, let's hide in here. You can practice your choke hold…naked."

"For fuck's sake," I hiss.

Nini giggles. "Beatrice! Get your own room!"

"That hussy already claimed the barn," Beatrice complains loudly to Henry.

"My dick is soft now," I grumble. "I'm pretty sure Billy just shit himself in fear of seeing those two old fuckers go at it."

"Ew," Nini whines. "That's a Juniper poop. It has a hint of boysenberry. Ever since Gordon's attack, she has a special diet—"

"Shoo!" I yell to the goats. "Get lost! I'm trying to fuck my wife here!"

"Ba-a-a-a-a-a!"

"Especially you, Billy! Don't get mouthy with me!"

Clomp-clomp-clomp-clomp.

Those fuckers finally leave and Nini giggles. I kiss her deep, thrusting hard into her. We don't have much time. Those goat stalkers will be back.

"Lisa," Nini moans, digging her heels into my ass. "I love you."

"I love you too, babe. Every part of you. Even all the crazy mobster father, old lady besties, goat herder baggage you have."

I make her come, because it's my duty and I'm damn good at it, and I follow behind.

Just in time for round two of the old fucker horror show.

"I will be Jean-Claude Van Damme and you can be Madonna," Paul rumbles from nearby.

Fucking crazy fuckers.

I open my mouth to yell, but Nini shushes me with a kiss. The creepy elderly roleplaying kinkfest is cut short when Beatrice tattles.

"The barn's taken, old bird! Go sow your wild oats in a field like the rest of us!"

"Me? Old? You're the one with an old man! I have a young lover, thank you very much!"

"Mr. Henry may be old in body," Paul interjects, "but he is young in spirit."

"Okay, Chuck Norris," Mable grumbles.

"Should I play him next?" Paul asks.

"NO!" Beatrice and I yell at the same time Nini asks, "Has he ever played Richard Simmons?"

How is this my fucking life?

As goddamn weird as it is to be in a dark corner of a barn with my dick still in my wife as we carry on a yelling conversation with four old people nearby—and five goats who decide to come back for a fucking encore—I'm content.

Better than content.

I'm happy.

And, of course, Nini, the crazy ass woman I first met wearing a spandex nightmare, is at the center of it all.

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