Break For Him: A Possessive Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

“Are you hurt? Are you in trouble?”

  “No and no. I’m fine, honestly.” I took a deep breath and prepared to lie to her. “I’ve just been struggling with Jason dying.”

  “Oh.” The word was an exhalation. “I am too sweetie. Are you at the Levittown station right now?”

  “Yeah, just got here.”

  “Okay. Don’t move. I’ll be there soon.”

  She hung up. I slipped my phone away and leaned up against a black wrought iron railing. Mom’s brown sedan pulled in ten minutes later and the nostalgia that washed over me was almost too hard to ignore. I walked down the ramp and got into the passenger side.

  My mother looked thinner than the last time I saw her. She had reddish hair, freshly dyed and cut short. Her green eyes sparkled out from a gaunt and wrinkled face. I wondered when she’d gotten so old, and guessed it was when Jason died.

  “It’s good to see you.” My mom leaned over and they hugged across the center console. I felt her ribs through her long sleeve shirt.

  “It’s good to see you too mom. I’m sorry I sort of disappeared there for a while.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Around. Just dealing with things. The shop’s been crazy.”

  Mom gave me a skeptical look but started driving. “I’m glad that’s still going well.”

  I wanted to say, yes, I’m selling drugs out the back now, but figured that was a bad idea.

  “Sometimes I think it’s all I have left, you know? Of Jason.”

  “I know what you mean.” Mom’s gaze out the front windshield sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t imagine what Mom was going through, not really, even though I’d lost a brother.

  Mom lost a son. That meant something different.

  “Are you still going to church?” I asked, grasping for conversation.

  The question worked though, and Mom talked about the church ladies for the whole drive. When we got back to Mom’s small Levittown house with its blue shutters and ancient brown door, I sat down at the familiar kitchen table and let Mom make some tea and sandwiches.

  It felt bizarre being home. The house hadn’t changed at all since I was a little girl, and everything felt familiar and right. I reverted back to my childhood self the second I walked through that front door, and as much as I wanted to resist the transformation, I knew it was impossible. I looked around at Mom’s collection of rooster statues, at the oil painting of a barn, at the large Ansel Adams photographs hanging in the small living room, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  We sat the table, drank tea, and ate. I almost forgot why I came all the way out here as Mom went on about the church ladies, about her tennis instructor—this strange old man that sat in a folding chair and fed them balls and blew a whistle and grunted as he smoked a cigarette—and I drifted into the familiarity of it all. Once Mom got talking, I knew she’d never stop, and that was almost comforting.

  The spell didn’t last much more than an hour. We finished the tea and Mom poured wine instead without asking. As she sat back down, placing a glass of white with two ice cubes in front of me, someone knocked at the door.

  Mom looked surprised. “Who could that be?”

  “Probably a package.”

  She got up with a frown and walked to the front door. I took a sip of my wine and stared up at a picture of me and Jason when we were little kids wearing bathing suits and standing in front of the community pool. Jason’s hair was wet and his freckles looked splattered on his nose. His pale chest looked so skinny, but he was smiling huge, like the world would never break him, even though it did eventually. I stood a little behind him and looked right into the camera like I was about to tell my mom to stop taking a picture, and I wished I could remember that moment, remember all the time we spent at the pool together, back before Jason had turned into such a sad person and turned to drugs to feel something better—but I couldn’t bring the memories back anymore.

  Even coming home didn’t seem to draw them through.

  “Honey?” Mom walked back into the kitchen, looking uncertain. “There’s a man at the door for you. A very big and very handsome man.”

  I felt my blood run cold and stood. “Did he say this name?”

  “He was very polite. Said his name is Owain and that he’s worried about you. That he’s been looking.”

  I had a choice. I knew it, right then and there. I had to choose and choose right, because if I was wrong, the consequences could be so horrible.

  I could tell my mother that I didn’t know Owain, or that he was some stalker, or any story except for the truth and hope that she’d chase him off, and that would be that. I’d move home, get a job, and start my life over.

  Or I could tell her to let him in.

  I looked down at the ground, mind buzzing with worry. And the thing that came to mind when I looked at the hardwood floor, at the marked wood where I used to play as a little girl, was the feeling I got when I fired that gun.

  The strength, the joy, the power.

  I never felt like that before.

  And then, when he took me—that was mixed with it, the two experiences mingled irrevocably.

  I looked up and forced a smile. “Okay. I’ll go talk to him.”

  She nodded. “He’s waiting out front.”

  I went to walk past her but stopped. I hesitated then hugged her. “I love you mom.”

  “I love you too.” She patted my back. “Why are you acting so strange? Who is that man?”

  “Don’t worry. He’s a friend.” I pulled away and walked out front.

  Owain stood in my childhood driveway where I used to draw hopscotch boards and big fat rainbows in chalk with his hands behind his back surveying the neighbors like he was a developer looking to buy. He half turned as I approached.

  “Nice place.”

  “My mom really kept it up.”

  “How’s it going in there?”

  “Good, I think. She’s been worried.”

  “I’m sure.”

  We descended into silence. I wanted him to yell at me for running away. I expected him to grab me by the hair and drag e back to his car. He was parked out front by the curb, and I almost thought he left it running.

  But he didn’t do either.

  “Wy did you follow me?” I couldn’t help it. I had to ask, even though the question sapped me of all my power and all my strength, I still had to ask.

  “Because I wanted to give you another chance.”

  I sucked in a breath and felt my anger rise. “You want to give me another chance?”

  He nodded. “To come back to work.”

  “Work?” I wanted to laugh, but the idea was too absurd. “You call that work?”

  “I don’t know what else to call it.”

  “You sell drugs.”

  “Still a job.” He turned to me, hands still behind his back. I stared into his handsome face and felt another stab of rage—mixed with longing, desire, and need. It was confusing and heady, a bouquet of emotions. “Come back with me.”

  “I don’t know if I want to.”

  “I’ll come inside and meet your mother if you want. Mom’s tend to love me.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’m polite and charming. And it doesn’t hurt that most of them want to fuck me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re an animal.”

  “Yes and yes.”

  “I don’t know what I want, Owain.”

  “Is that why you’re out here?”

  I nodded and looked away. “I’m trying to figure it out.”

  “You felt that, back at the firing range.” He took a step closer and I felt his animal heat roll off him like heaven. “I know you felt it as much as I did.”

  “Owain—”

  “You can do what you want. If you decide to stray here and you send me away, then fine, I’ll accept it. But don’t you start lying to me.”

  I sucked in a breath and nodded, closing my eyes. “I felt it, okay?” />
  “I know you did.”

  I opened my eyes again. “Doesn’t change anything. Jason’s dead. And you have me selling drugs.”

  “I do.”

  “And you think I’ll come back to that? When I don’t have to?”

  “I do.”

  “Why? What the hell would make me come back?”

  “I’ll make you a partner for real.”

  I shut my mouth then and stared at him. I felt startled and I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant—but I knew I was interested.

  “Partner… how?”

  “I offered you a cut before, and that’ll remain. But I’ll offer you a cut on all future sales as well. With each new batch, your cut will increase, until maybe one day we’ll split it 50-50. You do the work, you earn the money, and you get a say in what the crew does.”

  “You’ll let me have a say in the crew’s business?”

  “Damn right I will. You’ll get a seat at the table, little diamond.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  He stepped closer to me and I felt a spike of fear and lust.

  “Because you deserve it. You’re smart, Leigh. You see things and intuit things, and you fight harder than any person I’ve ever met before, all my guys included. You have no clue how much you’ve impressed me, and I don’t want to do this thing without you anymore. Come back to me and I’ll give you whatever you want and then some.”

  I stared into his eyes. I knew coming out here was a choice, and I knew where it would lead me. Seeing him, being so close to him, I knew it would inevitably lead to me following him home again.

  But I hadn’t thought it would lead to this.

  “Partner,” I said, feeling the word in my mouth. “You’ll make me a part of your crime family.”

  “I will.”

  “And I’ll get a vote? Your guys will be okay with that?”

  “They’ll get used to it.”

  I stared at him for a few more seconds, trying to come to grips with this new path opening up before me, this new path I knew I was going to walk down.

  I thought about fighting that junky. I thought about firing that gun.

  I thought about Owain’s mouth on mine and his cock between my legs.

  “Come inside and meet my mom.” I turned toward the house. “If you can impress her, I’ll come back. And you’ll make me partner. And buy me a new wardrobe. And give me a nicer room.”

  I heard his chuckle, low and throaty. “Done.”

  “Come on then.” I walked to the door and held it open for him.

  He lingered as he passed me, his hand brushing across mine, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I thrilled at him being inside my house.

  He greeted my mother with a big smile and a polite handshake, and as soon as he asked about the Adams prints on the walls, I knew I’d be going back into the city before the night was over.

  19

  Owain

  Smoke drifted in lazy circles through the room as Viktor smoked a cigarette and a few of the other guys puffed on cigars. The wood paneling around the private room was thick with age and varnish, and the chairs had intricate shaped carved into their backs. I passed out glasses of whisky, shook hands, laughed at bad jokes, and basically played the politician, because I knew shit was going to get tense in a few minutes. I needed to soften the guys up before dropping the hard news.

  Leighs sat at the table away from the others. She eyed them like a caged animal not sure if they were about to come feed her or kill her. Not that I could blame her—my guys were about as civilized as wild boar. They laughed too loud, drank too much, smoked heavy black cigars, and liked nothing more than getting into trouble. That was the sort of man I needed in my crew, even if it made things a little unpredictable from time to time.

  At the very least, I knew I could trust them.

  Rolan talked in quiet tones with Viktor. The twins Ivan and Igor took turns slamming back glasses of whisky and shouting obscenities at each other in some bastard form of Russian they both claimed to speak, but nobody else could understand. Trey, Danny, Samuel, Martin, and Camillo had a card game going, but I couldn’t tell who was winning, and it probably didn’t matter.

  “Alright, boys,” I said, standing at the head of the table, my hands in the air trying to quiet them down. I figured they drunk enough to be happy, but not too drunk that they’ll freak the fuck out when they hear what I have to say.

  I glanced down at Leigh and gave her a tight smile as the boys started to settle.

  “Boss, you’re generous as hell tonight,” Trey said, grinning at me. He was a young guy, dark hair, big smile. Despite his boyish looks, he was a killer, through and through—human life held little to no value in his estimation. “Makes me think you got some shit going on.”

  “What, I can’t treat my crew to some drinks?”

  “Not in a private club like this, you can’t.” Trey laughed and put his cards down.

  “He’s got a point, boss,” Camillo said. “What do you have in store for us?”

  “Something to do with the bitch, huh?” Danny laughed but I felt a stab of anger drift through me.

  “First of all, don’t talk about Leigh like that.” I stared at Danny until he stopped smiling. “Second, I got some news for you boys, but we’ll get to that in a little bit.”

  I felt the mood shift slightly. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger at the way more than a few eyes passed over Leigh like she was the cause to all their problems. Danny smoldered in his chair like a chastised little boy, and I had to make sure I didn’t lose them.

  “Look at you little girls,” Rolan said. “Afraid of what daddy’s got to say.”

  “Fuck you, Rolan,” Camillo said. “You know it’s not like that. We just know shit’s going down with the Jackals.”

  “Some of us are having fun.” Rolan gave him a vicious grin.

  “And some of us aren’t stupid enough to jump head first into a fire fight.” Martin’s voice was crisp and clear. He was an older man, black hair, bushy black eyebrows. I sometimes wondered what he saw in a life of crime, but he happened to be the best car thief I’d ever met, and so I kept him around in case I ever needed a ride.

  “You want to talk about the Jackals? I’ll talk about the Jackals.” I let my gaze shift over the guys one at a time. “Five of them are dead. How many of you are?”

  A roar of excitement rose up around the table. They banged glasses and laughed as I leaned back and crossed my arms. Leigh looked concerned, but a bemused smile grew across her lips as she tilted her head in my direction. I wanted to know what she thought of all this, what she thought of the guys, but I knew I couldn’t ask just yet. There’d be time to debrief later.

  “Here’s the truth though. They’ve been coming after me, trying to stop the pill business—and you all know damn well we can’t have that. We show any weakness right now, right while we’re trying to rebuild the Volkov family and make it stronger than it ever was, then shit can fall apart.”

  “Why hasn’t Hedeon sent us more men then?” Danny asked.

  “He doesn’t think we need them. Do you think we need more help?”

  He grunted as Samuel laughed and pushed his shoulder.

  “Danny h as a point,” Martin said, his gaze steady and even. He sipped his whisky but didn’t slug it back like the younger men around him. “The Jackals outnumber us, even with five deaths. They come down on us in force and I’m not so sure we can survive. I’ll grant that we’re a strong crew and got some good fights here, but good fighters aren’t a good substitute for good numbers.”

  I nodded my head and glanced at the faces all around me. “He has a point,” I said. “I can’t deny it. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. But we have the drug game locked down, and although the Jackals are riding around and trying to steal our customers away, they just keep coming. We have better prices and better supply than they ever will.”

  “Damn right,” Danny said.

  “Which means they’r
e not going to stop.” Martin stared at me impassively and he was starting to piss me off. “So what do you propose?”

  “I don’t propose anything. We’re going to war, boys. That’s why we’re all here, that’s what you all need to know.”

  A heavy silence descended over the table.

  I didn’t like blurting it out like that, but the fact was they had to be ready. War wasn’t a good thing—nobody wanted to go to war, except maybe for psychos like Danny and the twins, but otherwise rational humans avoided war at all cost. I couldn’t blame Martin for wanting to be cautious, since this was going to be dangerous, but I had some idea about what we could do to get through this in one piece—and how to come out the other end stronger.

  “I know that’s not what a lot of you want to hear,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and quiet. “You want me to say that we already crushed them, that it’s all over. They hit us, we hurt them back, and it’s finished. But unfortunately, that’s not how the Jackals want to play it.”

  “It’s true, I was there. Boss offered them a good deal and they told us to go fuck ourselves.” Rolan grinned at me and nodded.

  I gestured my thanks. “I got history with their leader, I won’t lie. But I didn’t hit first, and I didn’t escalate things. That was all them. If anyone hits us, we always hit back, isn’t that what I always said?”

  “Damn right,” Ivan said.

  His brother grunted. “Hit harder. Hit faster.”

  “Numbers don’t lie, boss.” Martin tapped the table with his fingers. “How are we going to deal with that?”

  “Clifton thinks he has this locked down because he thinks like you do. He sees his number advantage and he thinks he can’t possibly overcome it. But the fact is, battles are won by inferior, smaller forces all the damn time, and there’s no reason we can’t do it too if we’re smart.”

  “So you got a plan then?” Martin frowned, shook his head. “I hop you got a plan.”

  “We’re going to hit the Jackals where they won’t expect it. I’m going to need you all to trust me on this one, and I can promise it’ll be dangerous. But they won’t expect us to come right for their heart so soon. I want shock and awe, I want the Jackals on their heels, reeling from their wounds.”