NANNY FOR THE MAFIA BOSS

CHAPTER 9:48 HOURS

The passports felt like bricks in my hands.

Mine. Ria’s. Ella’s.

All with my maiden name. All brand new. All tucked into Vince’s safe behind the painting of the sailboat that I always thought was ugly.

“Pack one bag,” Vince said again. He was standing by the closet, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the floor, at his hands, anywhere but my face. “Clothes. Medicine. Diapers. Nothing else. No photos. No jewelry.”

“Where are we going?” I whispered.

“Anywhere but not here,” he said. “My jet leaves in 4 hours. Marco will drive you.”

On the bed, Ria was sitting cross-legged, hugging her rabbit so tight its ear was bent. She was watching us with those big eyes that saw too much.

“Are we going on a trip, Mama?” she asked.

I forced a smile. The kind that hurts. “Just for a little while, baby. A sleepover.”

Ella was asleep in the cot by my feet. She didn’t know the world had just tilted again. She didn’t know her father was about to send us away.

Vince wasn’t packing.

“You’re not coming,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“If I go with you, they’ll follow us,” he said. Finally he looked at me. His eyes were red-rimmed. No sleep. No mask. Just Vince. “If I stay, I can draw them out. End this. For good.”

“That’s not a plan,” I said, and my voice cracked. “That’s you getting yourself killed.”

He crossed the room in two steps and cupped my face. His thumb brushed under my eye, catching a tear I didn’t know had fallen.

“Ava,” he said. “When Ria said ‘Mama’ and you didn’t run… that was the first time in 10 years I thought I could have something real. A home. Not a fortress. I’m not losing that because I was too stubborn to let you go for 48 hours.”

“48 hours,” I repeated. The text said 48 hours.

“After that, it’s over,” he promised. “I swear to you. I’ll call. I’ll come to you. We’ll do Sundays at the park again.”

I wanted to believe him, I wanted to. I pressed my forehead to his. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Not about this.”

He kissed me. Slow. Desperate. Like he was memorizing me.

At 3:17 AM we were in the garage. The air was cold and smelled like concrete and gasoline.

Black SUV. Tinted windows. Marco driving. Marco who’d been with Vince since he was 19. Marco who never talked much but always showed up.

Vince opened my door for me.

He kissed me like it was goodbye. Then he crouched down and kissed Ria’s forehead. “Be good for Mama, okay? You’re the big sister now.”

Ria nodded solemnly. “I’ll protect Ella.”

Then he touched Ella’s tiny hand through the carrier. His big finger wrapped around three of hers.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” he said. “Ice cream and pigeons.”

I nodded and couldn’t speak or I would fall apart.

The gates opened. We pulled out.

For the first 20 minutes, nothing. Just the hum of the highway and the city lights blurring past. Ria fell asleep on my shoulder again. Ella made soft baby noises.

I watched Vince’s house disappear in the side mirror. All the lights on. Like a target.

Then Marco’s phone rang.

He answered with one hand on the wheel. “Yeah?”

His face went pale.

“They hit the house,” he said, hanging up. His knuckles were white. “Five minutes ago”

My blood went cold. “Vince?”

“No body found yet,” Marco said. “But the place is on fire. They got in through the back.”

The photo flashed in my head. The SUV across the street. The red circle.

48 hours. They didn’t wait.

I grabbed my phone. No signal.

“Turn around,” I said.

“Turn the car around, Marco. Right now.”

“We have orders from Mr. Vince to get you out of the city. To the jet.”

“I don’t care,” I said, voice shaking. “My husband is in that house.”

Ria woke up with a gasp. “Mama? Where’s Daddy?”

“It’s okay, baby,” I said, even though nothing was okay.

Before Marco could answer, headlights flooded the back window.

Two cars. Fast. No lights.

Not security.

“Down,” Marco yelled. “Get down!”

He swerved. Took an exit too fast. Tires screamed.

A bullet cracked the rear window. Glass rained down.

Ria screamed. Ella started crying, high and scared.

“Call for backup!” Marco barked into his radio while jerking the wheel.

“They’re jamming us,” he said. “No signal out.”

My phone buzzed. One bar. One text.

UNKNOWN

“We have him. 48 hours starts now. Come alone to Pier 9, or we start with the girls.

Attached: a photo.

Vince. On his knees. Hands zip-tied in front of him. Blood on his temple.

Looking straight at the camera. Not scared. Angry.

I stared at it. Then at Ria crying in my arms. Then at Ella.

Marco was driving toward the airport now, taking corners too hard.

The cars behind us were gaining. I could see them in the mirror.

I had two choices.

Run. Save the girls like Vince told me to. Get on that jet and disappear.

Or go. Alone. To Pier 9.

My wedding ring was cut into my finger. Platinum. His mother’s. It stayed, he’d said.

“Marco,” I said. My voice didn’t shake this time. “Take us to Pier 9.”

“Take us to Pier 9,” I said again. Louder. “If we run, they’ll chase us forever. If I go, maybe they’ll let the girls go.”

Marco glanced at me in the rearview. Then he nodded once.

“Then we don’t go alone,” he said. “I’m coming. And I’m calling in every favor I have.”

He made a sharp turn. We were heading downtown now, toward the water.

The cars behind us followed.

Ria was hiccupping between sobs. “Mama, is Daddy okay?”

“I don’t know, baby,” I whispered. “But we’re going to find out.”

I looked down at the photo again. At Vince’s face.

Forever,we said.

I wasn’t letting forever end on a pier.

At 4:02 AM, the Manhattan skyline rose up in front of us. Dark water on both sides.

Marco pulled off the highway.

“Pier 9” he said. “It’s closed this time of night. No civilians.”

Perfect for an ambush.

The two cars behind us split. One went to block the entrance. The other kept following.

Marco reached under his seat and pulled out a gun. I checked it.

“Stay in the car until I say,” he told me.

But I was already unbuckling Ria. Already checking Ella’s straps.

If this was where it ended, I wasn’t doing it from the backseat.

We pulled onto the pier. Concrete. Empty. One flickering streetlight.

The black SUVs were already there. Waiting.

Marco killed the engine.

“Last chance to turn back,” he said quietly.

I shook my head.

We got out.

The wind off the river was freezing. It cut through my jacket.

Four men stood by the SUVs.

And in the middle of them, on his knees, was Vince.

He looked up when he heard the car door.

When he saw me, his whole face changed. Anger. Relief. Terror.

“Ava,” he said. “No.”

I walked forward. Ria’s hand in mine. Ella on my chest.

“You have 48 hours,” I said to the men. “Well. I’m here. Early.”

One of them stepped forward. Tall. Dark coat.

“Francisco Cross sends his regards,” he said.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Watching,” the man said. “And waiting to see if you’re as stupid as Vince thinks you are.”

Vince was struggling against the zip ties. “Let her go. This is between us.”

“It is,” the man said. “And it ends tonight.”

He looked at me. Then at Ria. Then at Ella.

“The boss wants to know,” he said. “Which one do you love more? Him. Or them?”

I pulled Ria closer. I felt Ella’s warmth against me.

I looked at Vince. Blood on his face, and he was still trying to tell me with his eyes to run.

I couldn’t.

The man pulled out his phone.

“48 hours,” he said. “Start now.”

And behind us, Marco’s radio crackled.

“All units, we have shots fired at Pier 9. Repeat, shots fired.”

Too late.

The first gunshot rang out before anyone could move