“Darragh!” She swatted at my shoulder, bringing me back to the present.
“Yes, where was I?” I cleared the lust from my throat. “My father was an eighteen-year-old dock worker without a penny to his name when he landed in Boston. Whatever he lacked in coin, he more than made up for in brains as well as ambition. My mother was walking home from school one day when some drunken prick tried to grab her before my father intervened. Once my grandfather found out about his heroics, he invited him over for dinner as a thank-you. My father announced to the table while coffee was being served that he would marry my mother the second she turned eighteen, and there wasn’t a thing in the world that would stop him from doing so.”
“What did your grandfather say after that?” She perked. “Did he agree?”
“Hell no,” I replied with a shake of my head. “Told my father to get the fuck out and to never come back. Vowed to shoot the shit out of him if he dared step foot in his doorway again.”
“Holy shit,” she squawked. “So…what happened next? How did he finally win them over?”
This was the tricky part of the retelling. According to my father, he spent the next five years cementing his stronghold over the Irish mob presence in the Boston area. He was ruthless in his pursuit of power, eliminating any and all competition as he carved out a corner of the numbers and illegal narcotics racket. He also managed to scare off or bury any motherfucker stupid enough to even look my mother’s way before he got the chance to claim her as his wife. True to his word, on my mother’s eighteenth birthday, he showed up to my grandfather’s house with a pistol and a ring. The ring for my mother and the pistol for her father if he refused to let her go. Needless to say, they were married the very next day, and the rest was history.
That part wasn’t for her.
No fucking way.
“My father took a very traditional approach to gaining my grandfather’s trust and winning his daughter. He followed the letter of the law he was ordered and never stepped foot in their house, but that didn’t stop him from walking her home from school every day. On the weekends, he stood on the curb and talked to her through an open window to her bedroom. Being the spoiled princess that she was, my mother threatened to kill herself if my grandfather didn’t allow my father to court her properly and without the threat of bodily harm. A few years later, they were allowed to marry, with the family’s blessing, on both sides.”
“Oh gosh,” she sighed dreamingly. “That’s amore.”
If she only knew.
We lay that way, silently staring into each other’s eyes while time continued to tick away. I’d admit, I’d be sad to see her go.
CHAPTER 16
Otelia
SNAP OUT OF it, you stupid, stupid cow.
Darragh MacCabe was an evil bastard with a blackened heart, a damaged soul, and zero propensity to see past the dollar signs of his own personal greed. He was a brutal savage both beautiful on the outside and repugnant on the inside. He kidnapped you and held you against your will for forty-eight hours while blackmailing your friend to fight to the death. I knew all this, yet despite that, I wanted him, or better yet, I wanted his parents’ story for my own retelling someday. He’d romanticized their union perfectly, as if he understood that it was something I needed to hear, instead of the apology I’d demanded for hurting me. It was the next best thing to someone like me. Someone driven by the search.
What exactly was I searching for? Two days ago, I would’ve been able to say, without hesitation, that it was the prospect of love and all that entailed. Date after date, man after man, I ran through the routine of checking all the boxes that would make a good match.
Strong.
Protective.
Family oriented.
Driven to succeed.
The list went on, but sadly, I’d yet to encounter anyone who made it past two or three checks before the relationship ended and I was forced to start all over again. I’d had my heart broken more times than I cared to remember, but I couldn’t give up. Mac could never understand how much his parents’ story moved me to the point of tears. That stupid background check he ran would only give him a glimpse into the inner workings of Otelia Mae. Bullshit words written on a piece of paper don’t explain loss, heartache, pain, and longing.
Mac checked none of my boxes; if anything, he was the perfect example of what not to do when looking for more than a one-time fuck. As I looked over and studied him, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that the hour of our separation drew nearer. My overblown imagination conjured up images inside my head of little MacCabes running around screaming, “Mommy, Mommy,” while I danced in the rain with a smile on my face.
I really needed to get a fucking grip.
“So, that’s where you inherited your dark hair from. Your mother must be a rare beauty.”
“Not so rare, Otelia. There are a few who match it,” he said on an exhale. “Some…exceed it.”
“Oh yes, I suppose they would.”
My heart fluttered unexpectedly. Was Mac referring to me in that equation? Men often made comments about my looks, how I should’ve been a model instead of working at a diner. I usually laughed at their silly compliments and chalked them up as corny pick-up lines. Not so much with this man. With him, I wanted to believe them as truth. Did captivity turn me into this person, someone who makes excuses as to why their abuser abuses them? Battered women all over the world were shaking their heads at me for ignoring the warning signs. It was easy to rationalize my decision concerning the mob boss. After tonight, I never had to see him again. After tonight, I’d tell myself it was all just a bad dream, a nightmare from which I had awoken. After tonight, my time with Mac would be over and I’d say goodbye.
“What’s going to happen next?” I probed. “Will you swear me to secrecy by blood oath not to tell anyone what happened by cutting off my ear? Will I have to sign a contract binding my first-born daughter to the mob if I go to the police?”
“You’ve been watching too many movies, kitty cat. That shit doesn’t happen in real life. Besides, no one would believe you anyway. As far as the world is concerned, there are other things to worry about than some underground fight club.”
“Okay, you got me. So, what’s really going to happen?”
“Well…” He exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his handsome face. “After the fight, you’ll be reunited with your friends. I assume you’ll hug it out, then we’ll each go our separate ways.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Of course, nothing could be simpler. Mecken will win the fight, I’ll collect my cash, and all will be right with the world. I’m expanding to the West Coast, Otelia, and I need the capital. Believe me, these last two days have been as hard for me as they were for you.”
“I doubt that, Mac.” I snickered. “Your plan sounds really dangerous. Are you willing to die for something so fleeting? Money is the root of all evil, they say.”
“Die? No. But I am willing to kill for something so fleeting,” he admitted.
“Whatever floats your boat, I guess.”
We lay in uncomfortable silence, time slowly ticking away as reality set in. I was going home soon, and I couldn’t wait to get out of here. I’d get to have my life back, my friends, and my freedom. What more could I ask for?
“Taking over someone else’s territory can be dangerous.” Mac snapped me from my thoughts. “But I have everything I need to see things through. No need to worry for me, Otelia.”
“Oh, I wasn’t…” The bastard was smiling. “You’re such an asshole sometimes, you know that? I hope the supermarket runs out of your favorite flavor of ice cream and you’re forced to buy sherbet.”
“Harsh.”
“See, I can be mean sometimes too. Think I’d make a good mob boss?” I joked.
“Don’t know. You’d have to do a lot of bad things, like inviting perfect strangers to spend forty-eight hours in your home while seeing to their every need. Not worth it, if y
ou ask me. That shit’s a pain in the ass, especially when that person eats like a newborn piglet.”
“What?” I squealed in mock offense. “Why, you big old…”
I jackknifed from my prone position on the bed and made a lunge for him. I’d teach his know-it-all ass to mess with me. Newborn piglet. I’d show him.
I reached for the closest thing to me, which happened to be his nipple, and twisted with all my might three hundred and sixty degrees to the left. A rumble erupted from his muscled chest. It sounded inhuman, a cross between a growl and a snarl. As soon as I thought I had the upper hand, Mac took over using a move straight out of World Wrestling Entertainment. Shazam. My legs flew out from under me, and I was flying through the air without a damn parachute. I landed on my back with an audible oomph, out of breath and weighted down by two hundred and fifty pounds of fire-breathing man.
Holy fuck balls.
That was intense.
“If you were trying to hurt me, I suggest you use an alternative method of torture, one that doesn’t involve making my dick hard,” he rasped, inches away from my face. He grabbed hold of my hands and held them above my head firmly yet somehow without causing pain.
“Duly noted.” I panted. “Although, had I known the results ahead of time, I might’ve twisted your titty a whole lot sooner, Darragh.”
“Good thing you waited until the end. I might not have been able to control myself.”
“Pfft, control is overrated anyway.”
The words were rough as they escaped my throat. His predatory glare began to waiver as he caught sight of my bruising neck from this close of a distance. His breathing slowed to a steady pace as I watched the war inside of him being played out between the creases in his brows. I implored him with my eyes to take a leap with me, to throw caution to the wind for just a few short minutes. Forget about being the cruel mob boss with an appetite for money. Ask me, and I’d say yes. Command me, and I’d fall to my knees to please him.
“Darragh…” His name sounded like a plea.
“Put on your uniform. Leave everything else where you found it.” Slowly, he moved from the bed and further away from me. I mourned the loss immediately. “Breathe a word of what happened here or where you’ve been for the last two days, and there will be consequences.”
Ticktock.
Ticktock.
Ticktock.
We were both counting down the time in our heads. There were things that needed to be said, things that couldn’t wait.
“Darrah.” I exhaled, sorrow washing over me. “I wish you love in your future.”
He answered with his back turned. “And I wish you money, Otelia Mae.”
And that was all.
CHAPTER 17
MacCabe
Three Weeks Later
“SO, YOU’RE REALLY not going to tell me about this mystery woman you kidnapped and held against her will for two days?” Ferdi asked.
“Nope,” I replied for the third time. “And I would appreciate it if you would stop calling it a kidnapping, fucker. It was an invitation to enjoy my company while you were away.”
“Riigghhttt…you expect me to believe that shit? Conner already told me she was drop-dead gorgeous, said the bitch was built like a brick shit house with a mouth and ass made for handling big cock. I’ll believe his word over yours right about now.”
“Hey, believe whatever the fuck you want. Gave you my answer, not going to repeat myself.”
“Damn, bruh, seems to me if she meant nothing…” Enough of this shit.
“You wanna fill me in on what you were doing down in Columbia?” I snapped, knowing full well he wouldn’t. It was enough to shut him the hell up, though, and that was all I needed.
My second-in-command returned from Cartagena two days after the match with the Japanese champion. We’d been discussing plans for our expansion to the West Coast when he decided it was schoolgirl gossip time. I wondered why I even bothered to try and keep secrets around here. Between my father putting his nose where it didn’t belong and the interwoven intricacies between the family and my own personal business, it was like living in a vacuum. Nothing was sacred or off limits; everyone knew everything, especially if it affected the bottom line. Otelia was different. Our time alone together was my own.
I wouldn’t share that…not with anyone.
I’d thought about her over the last few weeks. Wouldn’t lie and say I hadn’t, especially at night when everything was quiet and peaceful. Her sweet scent permeated the room she’d vacated, a staunch reminder that she’d once inhabited the now empty space. Everything was as she’d left it—all the shoes, clothes, toiletries, even the bed remained unmade per my instruction. She’d gone back to her life at the diner. I smiled fondly to myself thinking about those first few hours of her being gone and waiting for the police to show up at my door with a farfetched tale of kidnapping. Deep down I knew she wouldn’t do it, not after everything that had happened between us, but there was still that off chance I’d been wrong about her.
I wasn’t.
She was everything I thought and more.
“Are you listening to me, Darragh?” Ferdi barked, tugging me out of my head. “If you could wipe that shit-eating grin off your face for half a fucking second…”
“Take it easy.” I sobered. “Run it by me again.”
Ferdi took a deep breath, his patience wearing thin with me. Whatever was on his mind must’ve been damn important for him to switch gears so quickly. Never known the man to lose his cool while discussing business.
“We’re being infiltrated,” he snapped through gritted teeth. “Unknown source making moves.”
All movement stopped.
My hands balled into tight fists.
“Precisely,” Ferdi snarled. “Thought that would get your attention.”
“Speak.” My heart thundered against my rib cage in absolute fury.
“Someone’s making waves on the circuit,” Ferdi began. “Stole two of our best fighters from right under our noses before I could put a stop to it. Whoever it is, he’s powerful, and he’s connected, not sure with whom yet.” He scrubbed a hand down his frustrated face before he continued. “They struck fast while I was away. Never saw it coming,” he gritted.
“And you haven’t got a beat on this guy? Must be losing your touch, asshole.” Ferdi was the best. If there was information to be had, he would find it.
“Give me a day, and I’ll have this fucker pegged. I don’t like surprises or sneak attacks. Motherfucker doesn’t know who he’s messing with.”
“Call in the boys. I want their asses here the minute we return. No excuses, Ferdi,” I yelled.
“You thinking what I’m thinking, boss?”
“Fuck yeah,” I sneered. “War is coming, and we need to be ready.”
We walked side by side into the hangar and boarded a private plane headed to Boston for the evening. My father was giving a dinner party for some of the most influential bosses on the East Coast, and my presence was expected. The short jaunt gave me enough time to consider everything Ferdi had said about my fighters. By the time we arrived at my parents’ front door, I’d resolved myself to two things: One, whoever was trying to take over my business was a fucking dead man walking. Two, this trip was a big waste of my time.
I knew my parents would be busy with last-minute preparations, so I didn’t bother announcing our arrival. They’d see us soon enough. Ferdi and I found our way to the guest quarters for a quick shower and change of attire. This was an upscale affair by invitation only—evening gowns and tuxedos were compulsory. When I emerged from the room, the party was in full swing judging by the boom of voices and classical chamber music strumming throughout the hall. Two hours tops, and Ferdi and I were out of here. I had shit that needed handling.
“Baby bro!!” I heard called once I reached the entryway to the great room, where the event was being held. My older brother and middle son of the family, Fionn, stood in all his glory wearing a tuxed
o minus the bowtie, something I was sure my mother gave him shit about. His obnoxious grin and knowing smile made me want to knock his ass out. I hated when he called me baby bro in front of other people. He was lucky I loved him so much, as with all my family, or he would’ve been tasting my fists. He grabbed me in a bear hug and easily lifted me off my feet. Fucker was strong as an ox.
“What took you so long to get here, you little cocksucker? Mom’s having a conniption.”
“You know how much I like to make an entrance.” I gave him a hard pound on the back and returned his hefty embrace.
“That you do, little dick, that you do.” He smirked.
“How’ve you been, Spoon?” I ribbed him back with my own knowing smirk. Spoon was his family nickname, given to him by my mother when he was a child for stealing one of her serving spoons. He’d carried that thing around everywhere like a damn security blanket until he was five years old. We never let him forget it.
“If I were any better, it would be a crime. Already got pussy lined up for after the party. Bitch said she’s gonna spread peanut butter on my dick and won’t stop sucking till it’s all gone.”
“Crude as always, I see. It’s a wonder any woman in her right mind is willing to have sex with you without you having to pay for it first.”
“Darragh, you wound me.” He mocked offence. “Besides, my dick is like OJ Simpson—once the glove is in place, bitches love to make haste.”
“Whatever, Johnnie Cockhead. Mom better not catch you fucking the hired help in the storage closet again. Remember what she said would happen the last time your dumb ass got busted.”
“Totally worth it, dude,” he preened. “Should be the best night of my fucking life.”
My brother didn’t seem to care about losing his loins in a wood chopper, a credible threat in my opinion. Mom never joked about such things. We walked side by side towards the rest of the crowd, grabbing a flute of Champaign from a passing server. Mother had really outdone herself. The place looked amazing without appearing ostentatious. No expense was spared.
48 Mac (A Junkyard Boys Novel) Page 10
