Mafias Embrace (Lethal Beauty & Smoking Steel Book 2)

by Darcy Ray

  Mafias Embrace

  Darcy Ray

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  This Book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright @ 2019 Darcy Ray

  Lethal Beauty & Smoking Steel : Mafias Embrace

  First Publication: October 2019

  Editing: Serious Moonlight Editing

  Formatting By: BBB Formatting

  Cover design by: Reaper Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Publishing by Darcy Ray

  AuthorDray@gmail.com

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  Mr. D, you are my world. Thank you for supporting me in this crazy adventure and for being the eye candy for all my fans.

  Nicole, Rowan, & Suki, I love y'all. You guys are my besties and have been cheering me on the whole way.

  Sosha & Nichol, My amazing PA’s, there aren't enough words saying how much I appreciate y'all. Y'all help keep me sane and push me to finish. Y'all run everything I don't have time to handle. You two are truly the best ever.

  My betas - Erica, Erika, Becca, Jaime, Taylor, Nikki, Maegan, & Harley! Each and every one of you bitches are amazing and I’m super blessed to have such a great team like y'all!

  Ashley Lilly, thank you for inspiring me to write the MM scene. Its dedicated to you boo!

  Finally, Chelsea, all dresses should have pockets and now all of Selene’s and Octavia’s do!

  Contents

  Triggers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Author’s Note

  About Darcy Ray

  Also by Darcy Ray

  Also Check out

  Chapter One

  Triggers

  This is the only warning you will get. There is blood and violence in this book. Don’t go getting pissy if you start reading this book and there is some kind of trigger for you. If you read Mafias Kiss, then you know shit is going down. I warned you on the first book and I'm warning you know. MURDER, BLOOD, SEX,CURSING, & DRUGS. That’s what's in here . Oh, there is some MM in there.

  Chapter One

  I still can't get over the fact that he is gone. It has only been three days since all hell broke loose, and I lost the only family I ever cared about. Looking around, I take in everyone standing around mourning, holding huge black umbrellas, and pretending they care. Unadulterated hatred runs in my veins; not one of these people has ever been there for him, never came to any major events at his club or even his birthday, and they have the nerve to pretend to care now. Hell, out of this crowd of hundreds, I can count on two hands how many people I actually know.

  A scowl slowly forms on my face thinking about how somewhere out there, his killer is still living. I would give anything to have him trade places—my father alive and the killer six feet under. But, no matter how much I wish or pray, I know he is gone.

  His killer will be found. I will destroy him with my own hands and make him suffer all the pain Dominik went through, all the pain I went through, and hell, for all the pain my men went through. I will get revenge.

  But for now, I will stand here surrounded by my men and listen to all the stories about the man I called father. I will let my tears fall freely, and I will say my final goodbye. Blinking back tears, I reach out and grab the closest hand I can find. Locking my fingers with his, I squeeze with all of my strength. It is taking everything I have to stop myself from breaking down and sobbing hysterically. Suddenly, the tremors I’ve been fighting hit me hard, and just as I start to collapse, the hand I am holding pulls me into a strong embrace.

  Burying my face into his chest, I let my emotions loose, and start to sob uncontrollably. I tried to keep it in, I really did, but I just can't do it anymore. My tears mix with the rain and quickly soak into his black button-down shirt. Sobs rack my body and snot smears all over. I don't give two shits about looking like a mess, or the fact that I’m ugly crying. This sadness is weighing on me, so much so that everything around me is darkening.

  The strong hands wrapped around me slide to my shoulders and shake me gently, but I refuse to look up. I just want to spill my tears against his warmth. Fingers dig into my chin, pulling me away from the dirtied material, forcing me to look up. The shadows still creep in from around me, covering everything with a black cloud. In the remaining light, I see him, the giver of my warmth, the strength to my weakness. Rain soaks Godfrey’s inky-black hair, dripping down into my face, making me blink. With each blink of my eyes, my sight becomes clearer and clearer. Like, how his mouth is moving, but I can't hear the words.

  Shaking away his grip, I try to bury my face again, but the bony fingers are back. Godfrey’s grip is stronger this time, forcing my jaw apart. The blackness is nearly covering everything now, even Godfrey. The only thing remaining is his scowl while he is mouthing words to me. I still don't understand. None of it. Why did Dominik have to die? Why did Neal do it? What did I do wrong?

  A sudden, intense, stinging pain shoots through my cheek, causing me to gasp, taking in the air I didn't know I was resisting. Palming my cheek, I take in more gasps of air, filling my lungs, allowing the oxygen to circulate through my body. Color overwhelms my senses, allowing the precise placement of pigmentation to fill in my surroundings. Taking a step back, I look around to see nothing but concerned faces.

  Movement to my left causes me to spin on my heels—Joe, my Russian god. Taking slow steps, he makes his way over to me. Fire is still scorching my cheek underneath my palm, and a slow but steady throb is growing. A gust of wind blows through the crowd causing my drenched hair to wrap around my face. Pawing at the wild turquoise strands, I finally get them unstuck and flip them over my shoulder. Joe finally stops in front of me. Reaching out, he gently grabs my wrist and pulls it away from my face, allowing the salty rain to streak down the inflamed skin.

  The murmurs that I keep trying to ignore only get louder. Single words make it through my protective wall of men. Disaster. Failure. Overthrow. Whore. Each one feels like another slap to the face. Even though metaphorical, they hurt worse than Godfrey’s hand ever will. Seeing my distress, Frank loudly claps his hands together, making everyone jump. His booming voice startles them once more. "The funeral is over. Say your final goodb
yes and leave." The fake-ass people only stand around for a second. Some look as if they want to argue, but the murderous look on Frank’s face dissuades them.

  It takes nearly an hour for the crowd to disperse. Each person stops in front of Dominik’s grave, either laying a rose on top, saying a quick prayer, or even just standing there in silence. With each passing person, I regain control of myself, and the pain on my cheek starts to disappear. As the numbers dwindle to fewer than twenty, I spot a familiar face.

  I only take a few steps toward her before I catch her attention. But as soon as I do, her unshed tears fall. Hurrying over to her, I wrap her in one of the best hugs I can manage. My sobs quickly begin to match hers, and all the emotions I just gained control over break loose. Doris starts to mumble into my chest, but I can’t understand her through the sobbing. Instead of asking her to repeat herself, I wrap myself tighter around her and slowly rock side to side.

  I haven't seen her since the last time we went to the diner. Even with that, I still think of her as family. Resting my head on her crown of silvery black hair, I whisper, "Thank you for coming, Ms. Doris. I didn't realize how close you were with Dom." My statement nearly crosses the line of a question, but I know this isn't the place nor time to discuss such matters. However, it lets her know the window is there when she is ready to talk.

  Nodding her head, she gives me one last squeeze and releases me. Her mascara is running down her cheeks, and her subtle lipstick is smeared. Turning toward Jaime, I motion for him to come forward. With a simple nod of his head, he makes his way over. Stepping up to my side, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pack of tissues. Holding them out to me, he says, "Mi amor, tissues?"

  Reaching out, I grab the pack, pull some out, and hand them over to Doris. "Here, you have some . . ."

  I trail off, not sure what to tell her, but she catches on and nods her head in understanding. Taking the tissues from me, she starts to wipe her face as best as she can. With the square material in front of her face covering the mess, she lets out an embarrassed laugh and says, "Silly me, I should get going. Um . . . stop by the diner sometime; I'm sure there are things you want to discuss."

  "Of course, Ms. Doris, make sure to drive safely." Nodding her head, she looks once more toward the casket and then turns to leave. Instead of watching to make sure she makes it to her car, I keep my eyes locked on the man who I loved as a father. Blood-red roses frame his motionless body as it lays in the pure-white silk-lined wooden box. Diamonds encrusted into the matte black wood shimmer under the scattered rays of sunshine, and thanks to the moisture that is still lingering in the air, rainbows shine in various directions.

  The sight in front of me is beyond beautiful, and with the gloomy mood weighing down on everyone, it is a much-needed distraction. As the last person takes their leave, I make my way over, and with every step, I take a breath.

  In.

  Out.

  Left foot.

  Right foot.

  Reaching my hand out, I run my fingers through the vibrant colors that dye the air. The warmth of the sun that is breaking through the clouds lasts only for a few seconds as I continue down the path toward him. Leaves crunch behind me making me aware that I am not alone for this. Even with this knowledge, my hands still tremble. Grasping them in front of me, I take the last couple of steps and stop with only a couple inches separating us.

  He is too pale. His silver beard no longer looks full or alive, his cheeks are sunken, and his chest no longer rises. Shit, nor is mine. Dragging in a shaky breath, I reach my hand toward his. A chill shoots through me as I come into contact with him. Grasping his bony fingers, I lower my head and let out a quiet prayer. I don't know who I'm supposed to pray to, or if they even exist, but as the words slip past my lips, a small weight lifts off my shoulders.

  Amen.

  Looking around me, I notice Viktor, Joe, and Godfrey surrounding me. Each one of them with puffy eyes and various reddening on their faces. I'm not the only one who lost someone, no, they lost their uncle. Biological or not, he cared for them. My eyes linger on Viktor and watch as all of the little movements he makes causes him to wince in pain; ‘Scratch,’ my ass. During the gunfight, he got a gnarly slash on his abdomen that required a long line of stitches. Reaching out to him, I grab his hand and give it a squeeze. Joe moves to my right and wraps his arm around my waist, allowing me to lay my head on his shoulder.

  Godfrey takes the spot behind me and grasps both my hips, pulling me against him. Their connection is what I need. None of it is sexual in any way; it’s meant to ground me here, so I don't let the darkness overtake me again.

  I'm not sure how long we stand like that, but the sound of someone clearing their throat drags us back to reality. Looking over to the other side of the coffin stands the groundskeeper. Clearing his throat once again, he says, "Ma'am, I have to lower him down now. It’s about to storm again, and well, I respect Mr. Romanov too much." My eyes skim over his dark, leathered skin and his frail physique. How he will manage to shovel all the dirt on top of Dom’s casket goes beyond my knowledge. His dirt-covered jeans are tattered and worn, his red, flannel button-up shirt looks like it's seen better days, and his shoes, well, I can see his curled pinky toe nearly poking through.

  As I reach his eyes, I notice the jaundice-like color overtaking them. Tilting my head to the side, I let my curiosity get the better of me and question him. "How do you know Dominik?"

  "Ma'am, I've been the groundskeeper here since I was sixteen. I've buried many people in my days, a lot of them with the family ties back to Mr. Romanov. Usually, people ignore me or scowl at me for burying their loved ones, but not him. He made it known that what I was doing is important and precious. After the fourth time we met, I noticed he started coming up here nearly every day. Always to the same spot, making sure to brush away the leaves or replace the flowers. But then his visits became fewer and eventually stopped altogether. With how good he has treated me, I made sure to take extra care of that spot. Sure enough, almost a year later, Mr. Romanov came back to bury another.” I watched him make his way over and noticed the shock on his face as he saw the new flowers I placed earlier that day.

  "Long story short, he was grateful for my care and started giving me an extra stipend to make sure it stayed cared for. But I didn't need the money, so instead of pocketing it, I use it to make sure everyone has fresh flowers and hired others to help care for the people buried here. "

  Pulling another tissue out, I dab the tears that are streaming down my cheeks. Dominik always found beauty in death; he was never scared of it and always embraced it. Taking one last look at my father, I nod my head for the groundskeeper to start his process.

  Reaching forward, he gently closes the coffin lid, making sure it doesn't slam and then removes the faux grass that hides the six-foot drop. The sounds of the lift lowering Dom become too much for me to handle. Taking a few steps back, I shake my head, and I yell out to whoever is listening. "I can't watch this; I need to go." Turning on my heel, I stumble past Godfrey and practically run toward our waiting limo.

  My heels sink into the damp earth, causing me to lose one on the way, but I don't stop. Instead, I kick off the other and run the rest of the way. I can barely see where I'm going through the tears clouding my vision. I stumble over small headstones and just as I reach the edge of the field, my toes catch on a flat one, sending me flying. Luckily, I land on soft green grass, but that doesn't soften the blow of my pain. Curling into myself, I wrap my arms around my knees and let my tears spill onto the earth.

  A few seconds later, I’m lifted off the ground. Opening my eyes enough to see who it is, I am shocked by who I see. Wrapping my arms around David so he won’t drop me, I let him carry me the rest of the way. Stopping by the door, he lowers me down to my feet and holds onto my shoulders to steady me. I somehow manage to get to the door open and crawl inside.

  Before he can close the door, I motion for him to wait. "Thank you, asshole." Even though
he scoffs at my comment, I notice a small smile form. He doesn't say anything to me in response; instead, he closes the door and turns to stand guard. Crawling over to the long bench, I lay on my side and silently wait for the others to join me.

  It’s nearly an hour later before the door opens again. The sky outside is dark from the storm, and the wind is blowing the trees around, almost like a hurricane is upon us. I watch as everyone climbs in and take a seat wherever they can. Before the interior light can turn off, I notice the dirt covering Vik’s, Godfrey’s, and Joe’s slacks.

  Seeing my confusion, Frank answers my unspoken question, "They each buried him. It is the greatest honor they could have. Putting Dominik to his final rest."

  I stop myself from crying again. I need to be strong for my guys. They all look as if they are barely holding it together—even Jaime looks rough. Making sure my eyes connect with all of theirs, I give them all the words they need to focus on. "We will avenge him. Neal was the one who pulled the trigger, and he nearly killed me. He will pay. Everyone who betrayed us will pay."

  Chapter Two

  It's been four days since Dominik was laid to rest, three hours since my last visit with Tavia, who is still in a coma, and ten minutes since the last call from Dom’s lawyer. He has been pestering us about reviewing the will and testament, and I know we should get it over with, but doing that will only make this final. I don't want anything else to change. I can’t handle it.