Marauder (Gangsters of New York Book 2)

by Bella Di Corte

  “What hospital?” My teeth chattered, and suddenly my entire body felt like it’d been hit by the ambulance pulling away from the scene—my heart going with it.

  “Kee,” Harrison whispered. “They have their own places. Places that are set up with all of the equipment they need. Even the ambulance belongs to them. C’mon. I’ll drive you.”

  We stopped when we noticed two figures coming from across the street. Mac and Rocco. Both men were related to Tito Sala. One by blood and the other by marriage.

  Harrison shook Rocco’s hand first. Then he hesitated, but after a second, offered his hand to Mac. I wasn’t sure what Mac was going to do, since there was some bad blood there, but Mac took it.

  Mac looked around. “How many archers are there in New York city?” It sounded like a question, but it was more of an observation. “Ones that can do this much damage?”

  All three men looked directly at me as my brothers came to stand next to us.

  “We will clean this up,” Rocco said, nodding. He touched me on the shoulder. “My uncle will do what he can for your husband. Go now and be with him.”

  Gigi sat in the front seat next to my brother as we went in search of the address Mac had texted. I’d totally forgotten she’d been there until she touched Harrison on the shoulder, whispering, “My uncle will do what he can for your sister’s heart.”

  For your sister’s heart.

  I reached for the pendant, clutching it so tightly that the chain around my neck started to dig into my flesh. The lights outside of the car window passed in a blur, illuminating each crevice of the metal heart, stained with my husband’s blood.

  “If you die on me, you bastard,” I whispered. “I’ll never forgive you for not showing me what’s inside of this heart!”

  “It’s easy enough to find out,” his voice echoed inside of my head, like the sound of waves crashing into the Irish shore.

  “Not without you,” I whispered back, the panic in me turning into anger. I was so fucking angry at what had happened, at how they were coming at him from all sides, that I wanted to go back and kill them again.

  Cash had told me that he carried the hearts of all the men he had killed. Not me. I gave them to the devil as soon as that first blade sliced through his flesh. I had a reason to kill. And it was my right to defend what belonged to me.

  Cash Kelly’s heart.

  My brother looked at me through the rearview mirror, but I didn’t want to look back. I didn’t want anyone to see that the anger was a shield for a deeper hurt that I knew would never heal unless my husband did.

  It only took us a few minutes to get to the “hospital.” It looked like an abandoned warehouse from the outside, and when we stepped onto the sidewalk, one of the Faustis let us inside. The place might have looked unused, but it had been recreated into something like an emergency room.

  Cash was inside of a room, and it looked chaotic, even with only two doctors and a nurse. Tito Sala made eye contact with me for a brief second before he called out to the nurse to shut the door.

  Harrison led me to a chair and made me sit. He tried to hand me a glass of water, but I pushed it away. It was hard to sit and wait and not do something. Every nerve inside of me was wired. Every cell hurt.

  An hour went by.

  By then, the entire place was filled with people. All of my brothers. Mari. A bunch of the Faustis who told me they knew Cash and respected him. They would light a candle for his soul. It was an odd thing with the men around me, how they were religious people but killed on the regular.

  It was a world that I wasn’t used to, but it was mine now. I’d been baptized into the life by the blood of my husband. It was smeared all over my skin.

  Mari clasped my hand. “Even though they do what they do, inside—” she touched her heart “—most of them have good, too.”

  I clasped her hand back, almost losing my shit at the strength in her voice.

  An hour and five seconds later, Tito Sala came out of the room. He took a seat next to me, sighing. “Your husband is a lucky man,” he said, patting my hand. “The cut on his neck was a close call. A little bit in the wrong direction—” he pinched his fingers close, showing me what a small gap looked like “—he would’ve died. He is not out of the woods yet, but he will survive this. He has been stitched up and given something for pain. We will let him rest now. He had quite the fight.” He adjusted his glasses and looked at me, a kind smile on his face. “You saved him from the worst of it. He told me before what an archer you were, and I have to say, I did not believe it. Until tonight.”

  Tito stood, but I stopped him before he went back to Cash’s “room.”

  “You know him?” I said. “He talked about me?”

  “I knew his father quite well. Father Flanagan, too. We have a beer and lunch from time to time. That’s how I ran into Cashel after your marriage.” He adjusted his glasses. “I’ve watched most of these men grow from boys. Father Flanagan takes care of their spiritual needs. I take care of their bodies. And yes, Cashel told me that if he were ever in danger, and you were close, he didn’t have to be concerned with his back. I’d say you were protecting his heart, ah?”

  “I’d like to see him.” I stood. “Now.”

  Tito nodded. “He is resting, but I am sure he will want to hear your voice.”

  When I went in, the other doctor and the nurse left me alone with him. It smelled and looked just like a hospital would. Mari told me they had them all over the city, strategically placed, and some were better equipped to handle different levels of emergencies.

  Cash was brought to the one that was one level away from an actual hospital, which told me a lot. He’d been just as close to death as the knife was to the artery in his neck.

  I took a seat next to his bed, taking his hand, holding it as tight as I could. “You scared the shit out of me tonight, Kelly,” I said. “Once you’re healed, I’m going to kill you.” I sniffed. “What the fuck happened? I knew—” I had to stop myself from going on. I was babbling about trivial shit because I couldn’t even find the words to tell him how much I loved him. How all of my worst fears were played out like a nightmare.

  As I leaned my head against his, a tear fell from my eye and ran down his face. The tears kept running until I kissed his lips and told him I’d be back in a few minutes. I hated that his blood still coated my hands, my clothes, and I could smell it in the room mixing with the antiseptics. When he opened his eyes, I didn’t want him to see it.

  I was offered a room in the warehouse to sleep in, and I took advantage of the shower and a clean set of clothes one of my brothers had brought from home.

  Sleep was the furthest thing from my mind, though I felt tired to the bone, so I paced the floor, wondering why I couldn’t get my heart to settle. Uncle Tito, since he was considered family now and insisted, assured me Cash was going to be okay.

  All of our family had left. A few men lingered in a kitchen, eating and talking about trivial shit, in case someone else tried to attack during the night and finish the job.

  Someone had tried to finish my husband off.

  Was it Grady and his gang? The Scarpones?

  I’d heard little things here and there about how Grady was trying to recoup what he lost, but before he did, the Scarpones had had him killed for what happened with the trucks.

  Then the Scarpones had been taken out—or that was what had been reported.

  So who the fuck wants my husband dead now? Scott Stone? No. He didn’t have it in him to kill, unless his life was threatened.

  My mind was focused, but my thoughts roamed.

  Why did my heart feel so empty? Even though he slept in the next room?

  A minute later, reasons came to me.

  Three.

  Maureen, Connolly, Ryan.

  I wanted them close. I knew they were home safe, but with everything that had happened, I didn’t want to take any chances. If Cash had enemies, and so did I, there was no telling what they’d do t
o get revenge. Especially after what I’d done to stop them from killing my husband.

  The boys had brought my phone with my clothes, and a set of keys for one of Cash’s cars that had been left outside in case I wanted to leave. I wasn’t leaving until Cash did, but I wanted to make a call.

  “Raff,” I said, sitting down on the bed, suddenly feeling so tired.

  “Kee? What happened? Where’s Cash?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t relive it again. Not then. “It’s bad, Raff. I can’t talk about it right now, but I need you to go get Maureen and the kids. Right now.”

  “Bring them where? And where the fuck is my cousin? What happened?”

  This “hospital” was the equivalent of a safe house, and I was instructed not to give out the address under any circumstances. So I gave Raff the address to one of the houses Harrison and I had used a while back. I liked it, so I remembered the address.

  “That’s where you are?” he said.

  “No.” I shook my head. “But that’s where I’ll have one of my brothers meet you. He’ll stay with Maureen and the kids until things settle down.”

  I could tell he was angry, breathing heavy, maybe because I was being vague. Then all of a sudden he cursed, but it was panicked.

  I jumped to my feet. “What?” My voice echoed his. “What!”

  “Fuck!” he yelled. “Maureen’s building is on fire!”

  I flew out of the warehouse—none of the men in the kitchen paid any attention to me—and found Cash’s car on the other side of the building. I wasn’t sure what had happened to the man standing guard outside, but I had a feeling he was making his rounds.

  It didn’t matter. I was going to call Harrison on my way and let him know where I was going. Maybe the boys were still at the house and they could get there quicker than I could.

  None of them answered their damn phones. I left a message for Harrison, only giving a rushed version of what Raff had said to me, but by the time I pulled up to Maureen’s building, none of them had called me back.

  The place was engulfed, but there was no one around.

  “Oh, God,” I pleaded, almost jumping out of the car before I stopped it. I left it running while I hauled ass for the building.

  The heat stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t even that close, and it built a barrier I could feel already singeing my skin. There was no way in. No way out.

  “Those babies,” I cried out. “My babies!” I hadn’t realized until that moment…they had become my children.

  My babies.

  They made us a family. My blood didn’t run through their veins, but every ounce of my love did.

  People started to crowd around, their phones out, either recording or calling for help. Why are they just calling now? Where are the first responders? Where’s Raff? Did he try to go inside and—as the thought came to me, the fire seemed to get angrier, and it sounded like the jaws of hell opening up, swallowing the building. It was starting to collapse.

  I fell to my knees, sobbing into my hands, my heart turning to ash in the burning building.

  “Kee-ly,” I heard a strangled voice scream my name. “Kee-ly Kell-y.” It was said in broken up syllables. Then I heard the wail of a baby.

  Across the street. In the darkness. Hiding close to a building.

  “Kee-ly,” the strangled noise came again, louder than the baby. It was rough and shredded, but I heard it. “Kee-ly Kell-y.”

  I ran across the street, my eyes narrowing against the darkness to try and see better. The fire had the other side of the street lit, but this side was full of darkness and smoke.

  I heard coughing, another wail, but it was going up and down in octaves, like someone was trying to shush it.

  “Ry-an,” the shredded voice said. “Ry-an, don’t cr-y.”

  “Connolly!” I screamed. “Connolly!”

  “Kee!”

  She was pressed against the building, her eyes wide with fear, but holding onto Ryan with a grip that would’ve rivaled a grown woman’s. She was trying to shake him to keep him from crying.

  I fell to my knees in front of them, trying to look over them both. “What happened?” Tears and smoke blurred my vision. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “Gran-ny.” She sucked in a gust of air and pointed across the street, at the burning building.

  It took her a minute, but she told me in broken words that her Granny had talked to a man earlier, Mart-in, and then he left. Another knock came at the door, and her Granny told her to take Ryan and go down the chute in their building. It had been used at one time to throw trash down.

  I remembered Maureen telling me about it when I was over once. I’d asked her about a picture on her wall, and when she moved it, there was a window-sized square behind it with a handle. Maureen told me that she was afraid Connolly would try to go down it someday, maybe to hide, and it would lead her outside, so she hid it behind the painting.

  I needed to call someone—anyone—to come, but I’d forgotten my phone in the car when I’d tried to call Harrison on the way over. I’d load the kids up and get them to safety, and then call Rocco to have the men walk us in. He’d given me his number and told me to call if I had any problems. I wasn’t taking a chance with these children again. One of the men would walk us in.

  “Kee,” Connolly said, starting to cry harder. She tried to talk to me, but she kept tripping over her words. She was trying to tell me who had knocked on her door after Martin.

  “I don’t understand, baby,” I said, helping her hold on to Ryan, who was still crying some, but she didn’t want to give him up. “Who knocked at your door? Who was the other man?”

  Her eyes grew wide, and she plastered herself against the building even tighter. Before I could even turn around, she held Ryan with one arm and pointed the other behind me. “Him!”

  It took me only a second to turn, to put my body in front of theirs, but before the first blow landed to my skull, I screamed, “Run!”

  34

  Cash

  I felt it when her lips kissed mine, felt her tears sliding down my face, but the Doc had me so doped up on meds that I thought I was floating in heaven.

  Until I tried to move.

  He’d stitched me up like I was made of stuffing and he had to stop all of it from spilling out. Every part of me demanded to move, but I was hardwired with sutures. Never mind the fucking needles in my arms.

  Tito Sala was known for making his patients comfortable during, but after, he’d make life hell on earth. Some say he did it so you wouldn’t forget. I said he did it because deep down, the old man was playing payback for the many nights he had to put bastards like me back together. A bunch of Humpty Fucking Dumpties.

  Two women came into the room. It was dim—someone had turned the lights low—but I could hear the monitors in the background, and their voices.

  When the women came closer, I recognized one of them. Clara was a nurse, and her old man had been connected to an Irish family at one time. I’d known her since she was a kid.

  The second woman, the doctor, took me a minute longer to place. Alisha Carter. I couldn’t remember how she fit, though. Maybe she dated or was married to a Fausti, or someone else connected to the life.

  If Dr. Carter was in this room, though, the Faustis trusted her—to whatever degree they could trust.

  This was one of their most elaborate setups, as far as emergency rooms went. I’d been in a few of them before. I must’ve been close to death. If the pain in my neck and shoulder was any indication, the old bitch almost turned me into worm food.

  “How close was I this time?” I said, my voice sort of floating.

  Clara fiddled with something next to me. “Close enough that Father Flanagan came to check on you.” She flicked me on the shoulder. “Your old man would’ve been pissed that you let it get that close.”

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “The feeling’s mutual right now.”

  “Father Flanagan left, though, so tha
t must mean he feels all’s right in your heart.” She smiled down at me. “In case you decide to die later.”

  I didn’t have the strength to lift my mouth and grin. Besides, my wife might accuse me of flirting and gouge my eyes out, like she’d threatened to do before. When I said she’d go psycho, sinking her claws in, I didn’t only mean in the bedroom. “Where’s my wife?” The woman who’d set my soul at ease.

  “Umm.” Clara looked at Dr. Carter. “Have you seen her?”

  Dr. Carter shook her head. “Not since she was in here earlier. She went to the private room after, but she said she was coming back.”

  “How long?” I said.

  “Concerned with time, Kelly?” A smug grin came to Clara’s face.

  “I am, in fact,” I said, sitting up some. They didn’t even try to stop me. They knew it was useless. My head spun, but I played it off. “Where’s my phone?”

  “She’s in the other room, Kelly,” Clara said, about to leave with Dr. Carter. “Not in another country. She’ll be in. She’s probably tired. She’s been upset, worrying about you.” She slapped my leg, but it was light. “I don’t know why any woman would fall in love with any of you. You’re all too much trouble.”

  “Too hard on the heart,” Dr. Carter said before they left me alone.

  Alone in the silence to think. To remember. My hands curled around the fucking blankets they’d put over me, like some kid who needed to keep warm, and a pulse beat in my ear. If Tito Sala hadn’t stitched me up right, I might blow one.

  Judging by how stiff I felt, he’d gone a level of tightness too far. Maybe he wanted one to pop so he could do it again—while I was awake, with the biggest needle he had, and without meds. I’d done it before, without meds, but his hand could be as bruising as it was healing when he had a lesson to teach about preserving the temple he considered the human body.

  A chirping sounded in the room. At first I thought it came from the monitors, but then I realized it was my phone. They must’ve cut my clothes off, and my pants were in the corner, the sound coming from my pocket.