REAPER (Boston Underworld Book 2)

by A. Zavarelli

  “I know ye are,” Rory answers. “And there’s nothing that could stop him from being around for it Sash.”

  “He told you?” I meet his gaze in the mirror.

  “Aye.” Rory nods. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. How much he needs to protect you. Take care of you. He blames himself for walking on out on you today. For not being there.”

  I shake my head and trace the lines on his face again. “He just needed some time,” I whisper. “That’s all.”

  The tires crunch over gravel, and when I glance out the window again, we’re in front of a house. A house in the middle of nowhere.

  Rory turns off the engine, and a moment later he’s got the back door open. A man walks out of the house and Rory gestures for him to come over.

  “Franco,” Rory greets him. “He needs help.”

  Franco glances at Ronan and his lips flatten. He speaks in Russian, and I can’t understand what he’s saying, but his expression says it all. He doesn’t like Ronan.

  Another man comes out to join us, and Franco clips out a few words of explanation in their native tongue. The third man glances at Ronan and lifts a brow. I don’t know who he is, but somehow I know he’s the one in charge. And whatever their beef with Ronan, I don’t care. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.

  “Please,” I beg. “You have to help him.”

  The man’s eyes examine me, blue as the sky and gloomier than anything I’ve ever seen. He takes in my expression and my hand clutching at Ronan’s shirt, and something shifts in his features. He gives Franco a small nod, and then they’re carrying him inside, with me and Scarlett in tow.

  “You’re going to help him, right?” I ask.

  The man with the blue eyes nods. “I will do what I can.”

  Chapter Forty

  Sasha

  I don’t know who this man is. The one with the blue eyes. But Rory calls him Alexei, and I’m certain he’s one of the big fish in the Russian mob. He has to be.

  His house is the size of a small castle, and it looks like one too. But it isn’t overly luxurious. In fact, it’s a little cold, and it reminds me of Ronan’s house in that way. Stark. Used for function, but not a home.

  He leads us through a maze of halls and directs the men to leave Ronan on the bed. His man Franco is on the phone, and I’m staring at him impatiently, wondering what he’s going to do. He seems to understand this, because when he hangs up, he tells me what I need to hear.

  “The doctor will be here shortly. In the meantime, I will tend to the wound. You can wait downstairs where Magda will tend to yours.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I argue. “He doesn’t like people touching him. He needs me here. He won’t understand if I’m not here…”

  “Sasha.” Rory gives my arm a squeeze as he dips his head to meet my gaze. “I will stay here with Ronan. He’s not going to wake up right now, because he’s lost too much blood. Alexei and Franco know what they’re doing, okay. But we need to respect their wishes so that Ronan gets the best treatment. They can’t do that if you’re here.”

  My lip trembles and I want to keep arguing. My eyes move to Ronan on the bed, his face soft and relaxed and too pale. The longer I stand here and argue, the longer it’s going to take for them to help him. Logically, I know this. But I still don’t want to leave him.

  I glance at the man with the blue eyes, who is watching me quietly. The one who I know is in charge.

  “Promise me you’ll take care of him,” I demand. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to help him.”

  His head dips and he gives me a small nod. “You have my word.”

  My eyes dart back to Ronan once more and then Rory is easing me out the door, directing me to go downstairs. He tells me the housekeeper will help with my cuts, which are the last thing on my mind. I’m barely holding myself together as I stare at the maze of hallways and the door shuts behind me. Locking me out. Keeping me in a void of questions with no answers.

  This is the way of the mafia world. They see women as weak. As not being able to handle these types of situations. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t want to see. But it’s Ronan. My Ronan.

  My troubled, strong, proud man. The man I love beyond all reason. Beyond all limits. It almost knocks me off balance thinking how much I love him in this moment. Tears are tracking down my face as I stumble down the hallway, looking for the way that I came. Maybe I could just wait on the stairs. That way, if he does wake up, I will hear him.

  But before I even make it that far, I catch someone peeking at me through another door before she slams it shut. I pause and stand there in confusion. It can’t be the housekeeper, because they said she’s downstairs. I’m not in the mood to care, but there was something about her face that looked familiar.

  Needing the distraction, I walk to the door and knock on it. There isn’t a response. But when I turn the knob, it opens without protest. And sitting there on the bed, staring up at me with hazel eyes is the last person I ever expected to see again.

  “Talia?” her name leaves my lips in a shocked whisper.

  She stares back at me, her face devoid of any expression at all. At first I’m not even certain she recognizes me. This girl is supposed to be dead. She is supposed to be overseas somewhere where she was sold into human slavery and then killed. That’s what Mack said. What Mack believes.

  And yet, here she is. In the Russian mobster’s house. There are a lot of different conclusions I could draw from that. She’s probably seen more horrors than I could ever imagine. I wonder if she even remembers her past life. If she even knows what she’s doing here. Or how she got here. Which is the question lingering in my mind. What is Alexei doing with her?

  “Do you remember me?” I ask her.

  “Of course I remember you,” she answers. “I’m not brain dead.”

  Her snappy attitude takes me by surprise. My eyes scan over her body, assessing the situation. She’s healthy and well cared for. Dressed in nice clothing and a little thin, but otherwise in good condition. But I never remember her being so hard. Her eyes are different now. They aren’t soft like the girl I first met at Slainte. She’s looking at me like I’ve left her with a sour taste in her mouth, and I can’t understand why.

  “Everyone thinks you’re dead,” I tell her. “You do know that, right?”

  She shrugs.

  That’s it. There’s no emotion there. Nothing. Just a shrug. Like it doesn’t matter.

  “Do you realize what this has done to Mack?” I ask her. “She’s been sick over this whole situation for months. Do you have any idea what she went through to try to get you back?”

  This time, a hint of remorse swirls in her pale irises. But it doesn’t last long. She looks me dead in the eye and speaks with unwavering conviction.

  “I don’t want to go back there.”

  “Okay…” I draw out the word. “But can’t you call her? Let her know you’re alright?”

  “She won’t understand,” Talia answers. “Mack has never understood. She’ll want the girl back that she lost. But I’m not her anymore. I’ll never be her again.”

  “So you’re just going to let her think you’re dead?” I stare at her in disbelief. “She was your best friend.”

  Talia doesn’t reply. She’s got her armor in place, and none of my words are getting through it.

  “I’m going to tell her,” I say. “She’s my friend too. And I can’t let her go on thinking that you’re dead when you’re not. It isn’t right.”

  “Do what you have to,” Talia answers.

  Her tone is dismissive, and I don’t have the energy to keep arguing. She’s done with this conversation, and so am I. I edge back towards the door, but before I go, I ask her the only thing that matters.

  “Are you okay here? Are you safe?”

  Her face softens a fraction, and her voice is sincere. “Yes. Alexei is very good to me. I don’t want to leave him.”

  “Okay,” I answer. “Would you lik
e my number though? Just in case?”

  She shakes her head.

  So I walk out the door.

  ***

  It’s been over three hours since the doctor passed me on the stairs.

  Magda patched up my wounds as promised and then allowed me to sneak back up here and wait. I haven’t heard a peep from Ronan’s room, other than the soft murmur of voices and the sound of a heart monitor. It’s the only thing keeping me calm, that sound. On occasion, Franco leaves the room to retrieve something or other. And I’m honestly amazed at the medical equipment they have here. He wheeled an IV stand down the hall earlier, along with some other machines I didn’t recognize.

  It makes me feel a little better, but I still won’t relax until they tell me he’s okay. Until I can look at his face and see those soft brown eyes staring back at me. The man whose barriers I never thought I could breach. The one who told me he loved me today. The father of my baby.

  My head is propped against the wall when the door opens and Rory finally comes out. He reaches down to help me up.

  “He’s going to be okay, Sash,” he says. “You can come and see him now.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask as I move alongside him. “Are you sure they’ve done everything they should? What about antibiotics? He could get an infection, or he might need more tests…”

  “Sasha.” Rory stops and grabs me by the arms to look at me. “That doctor in there is a real surgeon. She works for Alexei, and she knows what she’s doing. Ronan has had the very best care. Even better than he’d get at the hospital.”

  “They have a lot of medical stuff here,” I note.

  “Aye,” he agrees. “As you can imagine, they need it from time to time.”

  The door opens ahead of us and Alexei, Franco and the doctor filter out of the room. Rory looks at me and gestures for me to go inside.

  “I’ll give you some privacy,” he says.

  “Thank you.”

  I move toward the door frame and hesitate. I’m afraid to look. Afraid of what I’ll see. I know they said he’s going to be okay, but I’m so anxious I can’t help it.

  But when I see Ronan lying there in stable condition, my shoulders sag in relief. I walk over and sit beside him on the bed. He opens his eyes to meet mine, and then his hand finds mine beside him.

  “Sasha.”

  The way he says my name is full of reverence. My answer is a jerky nod with big fat tears falling down my face. He gestures for me to lay down beside him and I curl into his side, surrounding myself in his warmth.

  “You scared me,” I tell him. “I don’t like this, Ronan.”

  “I’m sorry,” he answers.

  “We’re having a baby,” I say. “I can’t be going through this all the time. I need to know that you’re going to come home to me every night. This wondering if you’re going to live or die all the time, it’s too much.”

  Ronan nuzzles against my cheek and then kisses my forehead. For someone who has never been shown affection in his life, he’s learning how to comfort me rather quickly.

  “Sasha, I can’t leave the syndicate,” he replies. “But I will never leave you either. Ye’re everything to me.”

  “I love you,” I tell him. “I love you so frigging much, Ronan. I just don’t know how I’m going to do this. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

  He holds me tighter and squeezes, his breath blowing across my face when he whispers his only assurance.

  “I’ll always come back to ye. Nothing could keep me away.”

  Then his hand moves over my stomach, and something changes in his features. Where before he was terrified, there’s now a flash of pride there.

  “And our child too.”

  I lean in and graze his lips with mine, and his hand tangles in my hair, deepening the kiss. This kiss conveys all the words he can’t say aloud. Like how scared he was to lose me too. And how without a shadow of a doubt I am his now. When he breaks away, his eyes are soft and open.

  “I haven’t any bloody idea how to be a father,” he admits. “I’m afraid I’ll botch the job beyond repair.”

  “You won’t,” I tell him. “I know you won’t, Ronan. We’ll learn together.”

  “I don’t do well with loud noises,” he says quietly. “I worry that when the baby cries…”

  His words drift off and his expression takes on a distant look.

  “You will adjust,” I assure him. “It will be different when it’s your own child, Ronan. And we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll do whatever we have to.”

  He nods, but I can tell he’s still worried about it. There are admittedly a million things left to figure out. A huge clusterfuck still waiting for us back in Boston with the feds and Slainte and Lachlan’s arrest. The informant, the baby, the future. Everything is hanging in the balance right now. And I shouldn’t feel calm.

  But when I’m here in his arms, and he’s alive, and looking at me the way he is right now, all is right with the world.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Ronan

  For the next three days, we remain holed up at Alexei’s house. The lad isn’t very fond of me after the stunt I pulled before with Mack and the small matter of shooting at his car. But he helped me when I needed it, regardless. I don’t have a clue if it’s because of the alliance or because of Sasha.

  I’ve noticed he has eyes on us often. Like he’s trying to pick us apart, work out what’s going on between us. I haven’t a clue why. Crow always said this one was funny when it came to women. That he had a soft spot for them. And I’ve seen him enough times to know it’s true. I don’t think he’s got eyes for Sasha, but I still don’t like him looking at her the way he does. I don’t like anyone looking at her.

  Because she’s mine.

  I glance at her sleeping form beside mine and wonder how the bleeding hell I ever had the good fortune to cross paths with her. For her to see past my issues and care for me anyway. I haven’t worked it all out yet, but the one thing I do know is Sasha is kind and has a good heart. For some reason, she believes there’s something in me worth keeping.

  I don’t take that lightly. Only, I worry I’m going to jack this whole situation arseways if I don’t tread carefully. There’s still a bit of dread inside of me when I think about having a baby. I’ve no fecking clue how to care for a baby. But when I look at Sasha and it really settles over me that she’s carrying my child, I get a big head over the notion. I fancy the idea that I’ve claimed her in such a way. That she will never have another but me, and that we might make a family together. The way that Crow said, with that picture he had in his head. I want that with Sasha. Only, I need to sort out all of this other bollocks first.

  The benefit of being at Alexei’s is that he has a dungeon that could rival my own. He uses it himself from time to time or allows the Russians to do so when the need arises. That very same dungeon is also where Andrei was left to fester until I was in fair enough shape to handle the business that was left undone.

  I didn’t reap as much enjoyment from the act as I’d hoped. The prick had already contracted some sort of infection by the time I had a go at him and he wasn’t as lucid as he should’ve been. But he did suffer. There were no bones about that.

  His death was slow and painful. A standard I set for anyone else who thinks they might touch what’s mine. When I finished with him, I sent Andrei back to his men in pieces.

  Now there’s only the other matter of the feds to contend with.

  On cue, there’s a rap at the door and then Rory pokes his head in.

  “Ye mind?” he asks. “I need a word with you.”

  I cover Sasha over and then reach down to kiss her cheek right in front of Rory. I don’t mind so much, now. I’m not uncomfortable anymore. Worried I’m stuffing it up in front of the lads. The only thing I care about is that they all know she’s been claimed.

  “I’ll be along in a moment,” I tell him. “Let me get dressed.”

  He nods and shuts the door behind hi
m and I dress in the clothes that Alexei provided me. It’s no suit, but it’ll have to do.

  When I open the door Rory is waiting outside, and he gestures down the hall. I walk beside him and into a room where Conor, Michael, Dom and a few of the other lads have joined us as well. Since the shake up with the feds, they’ve all gone to different safe houses. This being one of them.

  “Any word on Crow?” I ask as I take an empty seat.

  “The barrister assured me he’ll be home for Sunday supper,” Dom answers. “They’ve got nothing but a bloody house of cards. A huff and a puff and we’ll blow it right down.”

  I rock back in my chair with a nod. I suspected as much. This isn’t the first time we’ve had heat on our backs, and it won’t be the last.

  “And what of the rest of it?”

  “Alexei’s done his homework,” he answers. “They’ve got nothing. No body, no dice. Some grainy photos of you, and an informant with a past so checkered it won’t hold up in court.”

  He sounds confident, but I still don’t like it. I want to tell Sasha it’s over. But it won’t be over until that witness disappears. A notion I’m not too keen on. I don’t like involving women in our business.

  “Who is she?” I ask.

  “Some junkie whore,” Rory answers.

  A voice from the door behind us replies.

  “Yeah, like me,” Scarlett adds. “Nothing more than a whore.”

  Rory’s face pales, and he attempts to backtrack quickly, but it’s no use. Scarlett ignores him and comes and sits right down at the table like she has a right to.

  “This isn’t your business,” Dom tells her. “Now you best leave.”

  She crosses her arms and snaps her gum, shaking her head in refusal. “Nah, I think I’ll stay. Because I have something to say on the matter.”

  The room falls silent, and all of the lads look at each other, wondering who’s going to handle her. They all know Rory fancies this girl, so they don’t want to step on toes. But he’s not saying anything either. So I take it upon myself to sort out this headache.