She's a Spitfire (Tough Love Book 2)

by Chloe Liese

  “I want better for you, Zed.”

  His eyes caught mine in the mirror and he shifted while he made one final adjustment to the knot, like the suit made him itch. He looked sleek and powerful—charcoal Italian wool, crisp white shirt, black tie. He looked incredible, but I couldn’t get past the necessity for it. He had work to do, and it was eating him from the inside.

  “That makes two of us,” he mumbled.

  I sat up and pulled my legs to be crisscrossed. “So, what can be done?”

  He spun around and faced me as he checked the cartridge of his gun and slid it into his holster. Zed wearing a holster. He was supposed to wear Van Morrison shirts and world-class club kits and linen button ups. Not guns and suits cut for corruption.

  “Nairne,” he said softly, avoiding my eyes. “We’ve been over this. It’s complex, and I have to be careful. It’s like Jenga stacked too high. One wrong move and it all crashes down. Except in this version, if I fuck up, they’d kill everyone I love and then they’d kill me.”

  I swallowed. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. When I defect, I’ll have to have made sure everyone I care about is far away from this place, out of Cosa Nostra’s reach or sphere of influence.”

  He sat on the bed and I waged a small war inside about telling him how much I’d figured out, that I was trying to save him myself. Because I wanted him to see me as a fellow warrior by his side, not a damsel to shield and be protected from the fight. But it wasn’t how Zed was. He was terrified of my involvement, the potential for me to be hurt, were I to become a target of retribution or caught in the crosshairs of the mafia’s violence.

  “You’re consigliere,” I said.

  Zed took my hand in his and stared at it. “Yes.”

  “That’s a powerful position. You’re telling me you can’t persuade people—”

  “To do what, Nairne?” His beautiful eyes met mine—fire and ice, blue-green and shards of gold. “To stop being crooks who make shit tons of money off their illegal schemes? It doesn’t work that way. It takes time and other lucrative options to convince people to give up the flashier high-selling gigs like prostitution and labor racketeering in favor of illegally hauling garbage and selling low-tax state bought cigs in high-tax states. All while giving up enough intel to stymie momentum but not raise suspicions and expose myself. To keep us profitable enough so that no one complains or asks questions.” He raked a hand through his hair and tugged.

  I sighed and squeezed his hand.

  Zed warred with his deeply ingrained beliefs of right and wrong, and to me that made complete sense, because I saw the world the same way. You did what was right, once you knew what that was. To turn away from that was unthinkable. If Zed backed out suddenly it would be reckless and damaging. And I admired him for actually giving a shit about it rather than just packing his bags and running after me. But selfishly, in my weakest moments, I wished there were an easy, quick way out. So he’d be safe, and free.

  And mine.

  I shifted toward him, took his face. “Is there someone else, who’d do it like you?”

  He smiled wryly. “I’m working on it. Trying to figure out who I could possibly trust to do it my way. No sane man wants this life. But once I find him, I’m out in a heartbeat.” He stood, releasing my hand gently as he kissed my hair. “Listen to me, though—I don’t want you to worry about this, Nairne. I will figure it out. It might not be as soon as I like, but I will. You need to focus on your life. Your future. And steer clear of all this.”

  Our eyes met, and I saw pain and anxiety. For all his talk of sending me off with gusto, I saw the truth of how much he didn’t want us to be apart when the time came. He blinked away and focused on his cufflinks.

  Perhaps there wasn’t another soul who wanted Zed’s life—the terrifying dance of selling out the foulest schemes and corralling crime into less damaging avenues. But there was one person I had a hunch would like ultimate power and financial control very much, who with the right incentive, just might be persuaded to do things Zed’s way.

  And Zed was right, there wasn’t a sane man who was up to the task. But there might be an insane woman.

  I read people pretty well, but the one time I’d met Nella, I could tell she’d be tricky to pin down. Still, I’d arranged a meeting with her, having a rough idea of how I might appeal to her sympathies. Though, if she was a true sociopath, as I suspected she was, she actually might not have sympathies. More like…priorities then. Money. And control.

  I parked down the street from Lupo’s and shivered from cold as much as nerves. Boston’s brutal winter had turned the harbor into a sheet of ice that swallowed up moonlight and glowed bright against the land. I stopped outside the restaurant’s entrance and didn’t bother knocking. Nella was the kind of woman who stood at the window. Watched and waited, like a black widow biding her time to strike. The door swung open and revealed her silhouette.

  “Fragola.” Nella smiled as she stepped into the light, and the door shut behind her. “You’re prompt.”

  She looked as striking as last time. Black trousers accentuated her curves, and her blouse was as blood-red as her lips and nails. Skin, Zed’s same shade of olive, and I hated her for sharing even that with him. The idea that she’d touched him, how he’d been with her, made me sick with jealousy. Recognizing that unfamiliar emotion was enough to make me even angrier than I had been when I got in the car to come see her.

  Zed had told me who she was. He was matter-of-fact about it, explaining while he chewed his pizza and served me more salad. How she’d mentored and guided him as he crossed the threshold of manhood. He’d been all of bloody eighteen, and she’d preyed upon his emotional vulnerability at a time when he was trying to protect his family and steel himself for a life he never wanted. It made me want to retch.

  “Nella.” I moved back so she wasn’t so damned close in my space. I hated craning up at her.

  Nella squinted at me as she lit her cigarette, and I watched the flame make her brown eyes burn red. “Are you going to say something, bella, or am I just expected to stand here and watch you shake like a leaf in the cold?” She smiled as she exhaled smoke that curled and diffused into the night.

  Hands on my push rims, I swayed myself side to side and weighed my words. There was a psychology to this, and it was intricate. My second year at university, I’d learned about the neurobiology of violence, of antisocial behavior. The anterior cingulate cortex and amygdala were mostly responsible, regulating our impulse-control and behavior, which translated the input of fear into the output of violence. Deficiencies in those areas explained a lot of criminal impulses, and they were deuced hard to change. But the life of organized crime was just that—organized. I couldn’t alter Nella’s plausibly sociopathic makeup, but I could try to lead her toward a reorganization of her world’s structure. If it benefitted her enough.

  She sighed and stepped back toward the door. “Come inside.”

  I followed her in to a table covered in white and red checkered cloth. She lit the candle with her zippo, then snapped her fingers. A woman quickly left from behind the bar and disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

  “A relative of Zed’s in the mob was murdered on the docks this past weekend,” I said.

  Her eyebrows lifted as she took a drag of her cigarette and exhaled her words through a cloud of smoke. “Yes. Though, I’m surprised he told you.”

  “He didn’t mean to. I was home with him when a man came and delivered a photo of it. Zed says your leader, the boss, did it without his approval.”

  Nella’s face was a mask. I couldn’t read it for anything. “That’s correct.”

  “That’s not good, is it? To have a leader who doesn’t consult his righthand people.”

  Nella’s eyes dropped to her cigarette as she tapped it against the glass ashtray. “No, it’s not.” When she looked up, she smiled at me with wide, bright teeth. “Café?”

  With disturbing timing, a tall man entered
from the kitchen and served us espressos. He was quiet and kept his eyes down, then walked backward away from us.

  “Are there consequences for this kind of behavior?” I took a tentative sip and set my cup down. “Could he be fired? Unseated?”

  “What a curious girl you are, fragolina.” Zed’s name for me on her lips grated like nails on a chalkboard. “Why would you ever ask such a thing?”

  I took my time and finished my espresso before answering. “A boss like him seems like more trouble than he’s worth. Sloppy and short-sighted. Taking risky, arbitrary action.”

  Nella tipped her head as she set down her espresso. “He’s a compromise. When he’s well-managed, he serves his purpose.”

  “Which is what?”

  “To stay out of Zeddo’s and my way. Zed runs it all, and I get my money.”

  I leaned in. “But what if it could be better? Could the boss…be taken out of the picture, to make way for more effective leadership?”

  Nella’s eyes slid to the kitchen then back to me as she smashed her cigarette out. “Upsetting the system is risky. And money would be an issue, of course.”

  “Say the money’s there. It might be used to ensure that the boss is arrested, gets lobbed some hefty criminal charges. Who takes his place?”

  “It should be me.” She sighed. “But they’d likely choose Zed.”

  “And if Zed were to have left? Gone abroad perhaps to play footie, as he was meant to when he was younger.”

  Her eyes locked with mine. “It would leave me.” She leaned in and set a hand on my arm, smelling like harsh perfume and smoke. “But Zed would die before he ever abandoned me and the life. He’s too consumed in his vision of this syndicate’s morality. He’ll never stop because to him, that’s cowardice. Turning his back on his duty.”

  She released my arm, then pressed on.

  “Zeddo doesn’t like the cruder parts of the family businesses, so he shuts them down or changes them to his liking. But he leaves me plenty to work with, and it’s turned out quite nicely for me. He takes good care of me.” She smiled.

  “So, it would be in your financial interest to keep things the way Zed has set them up, even if Zed weren’t there to sustain it.”

  Nella tapped a new cigarette to her lip. “Well, yes.”

  “As in, you would carry on what he’s done, were he to leave the life.”

  Her smile faltered before it brightened a cheery smile. “La fragola wants him for herself.”

  I had a hunch she still cared for him, and that momentary slip confirmed it.

  “We’re friends only. We’ve enjoyed a fling for a while of course, but it’s nothing serious. I just care for him, and I have the means to help him. This isn’t the life for Zed. He deserves more,” I answered.

  I wasn’t unpacking my genuine emotions with her, when she could easily use them for leverage and manipulation. And it was likely she wanted Zed for herself. “And I don’t know much, but I know enough to understand that how Zed runs things is playing with fire, particularly as long as he’s answerable to this rogue boss of yours. While you have a leader bent on sabotaging Zed’s agenda, who goes behind his second and third in command, kicking up a turf war and drawing law enforcement’s attention, your profit and Zed’s life are at stake.”

  She nodded slowly. “The boss is…unpredictable.”

  I picked up her lighter and flicked it open. I loved Zippos. The steady, dependable flame, fueled by a brilliant synthetic. “Isoparaffinic hydrocarbon,” I said, gesturing toward the flame. “A manufactured fuel. Sometimes for a consuming fire to begin, nature needs a little help.”

  Nella leaned forward and lit her cigarette with the flame. On a heavy exhale she looked me over as I slapped the lighter shut.

  “Such fuel is expensive,” she muttered around her cig.

  “I would imagine so.”

  “You don’t fund betrayal with polite requests. You provide a hefty wad of cash.”

  I rotated the Zippo steadily on the table. Edge. Side. Edge. Side. “How much?”

  Nella smoked and tipped her head. “Fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “Eight.”

  Her eyebrows shot up like I’d surprised her with having any money at all. “Where did la fragola find such money?”

  She didn’t need to know the magnitude of my wealth was new and precious. “None of your concern.”

  She stared at me and smoked. “Thirteen.”

  “Ten, and that’s all you’ll get from me.” I flipped the Zippo into the air and caught it.

  Nella smiled as she exhaled. “I underestimated you, bella.” She offered an outstretched hand, tipped in those blood-red nails. “You have yourself a deal.”

  Three

  Zed

  I was losing her already. There was a handful of explanations, all of which to some degree overlapped, obscured by both chronology and circumstance. Nothing pissed me off like noisy data, and that inability to isolate what distanced us had my mind far from where it should be.

  I sat at the head of the boardroom conference table and listened to Shirl talk about specs for the health clinics that were slated to go up once Boston thawed enough to break ground.

  Nairne sat looking ridiculously beautiful and completely unaware of that fact. Winter sun caught the crown of her head and turned her hair rose gold. Those wide jade eyes focused and flickered with intelligence. Her blouse was black and sheer around the neckline, and if Matt looked at her cleavage one more time, I was going to punch that little Ken doll before he could make it out the door for rock climbing club or whatever granola, outdoorsy obsession he had.

  “Zed?” Shirl’s voice cut through my thoughts.

  “Yes.” Even though I’d answered Shirl, I was staring at Nairne, and when her eyes flicked to mine, they dropped immediately. That wasn’t her usual gesture. It was faster, fearful. She was avoiding me. Like she had been for days.

  Shirl glanced between us, settling on me as I finally gave her my attention. “I was just wondering,” she said, “if you’d considered my suggestion that you cut the ribbon when the first clinic is done, like we talked about before the holiday break?”

  Nairne drummed her fingers on the table and flicked through her papers. She was fidgeting and fussing, and that also wasn’t like her. Nairne was poised, her body peaceful. Except for the rare times she would set her hands on her push rims and shimmy herself side to side while thinking. Or pop a wheelie. The first time she did that I nearly had a coronary, and when I’d threatened her with sexual retribution if she pulled the stunt again, she’d just laughed and done it once more.

  “I’d rather not,” I answered. “Have Tony do it.”

  Tony shook his head. “Your face is the one that matters. It’ll make for the best press.”

  I craned my neck side to side to stretch out the tension that publicity generated so readily in the base of my skull. “Fine.”

  Shirl smiled and straightened her papers. “Well, that’s all I had. We’re ahead of schedule. Nairne did such a beautiful job running those collaborative meetings. The research and physician teams are on the same page, and they’re currently preparing their comprehensive care proposal for us.”

  Nairne smiled at Shirl and dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  “Great.” I sat forward, elbows on the table. “Everyone, thank you. We’re doing great work here, and these clinics are a huge step toward tangible impact in these communities. Keep it up.”

  That happy conversational hum of agreement buzzed around the room. I ended the meeting, sent people off, and sat there, watching Tony shoot the shit with Nairne. By the looks of it, he’d said something complimentary to her, because she glanced down and blushed.

  I loved her paradoxes. How she was proud yet bashful, powerful while vulnerable. I couldn’t imagine the point at which I’d have to forego exploring those contradictions, discovering the depths of her mystery. But that point would come, and I had no control over it. It seemed like lately, if Nair
ne had anything to say about it, that time would come sooner rather than later.

  Tony squeezed her shoulder gently before leaving. She smiled and started packing up her papers into the huge bag she always had with her. I moved to her end of the table and sat on the edge. Her head was bowed as she muttered to herself and rummaged around the bag’s compartments.

  “Looking for your lunch in there?”

  “Ha-ha.” She didn’t look up. “Can’t find my bloody mobile.”

  I slid aside the last few papers she hadn’t stuffed into her folder yet and extracted her cell. When I set it lightly right in front of her on the table with a soft clack, she stopped and finally looked up at me.

  I crossed my ankles and stared at her, wishing I had mind-reading capabilities. She was infuriatingly good at hiding her thoughts when she wanted to. “What’s gotten into you?”

  She blinked, then sat back. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I pressed. My head tipped to the side and she sighed, because she knew me well enough by now to recognize when I was hunkering down to wait her out.

  She threw her hands up and I caught one, brought it in my grasp and started massaging it. Nairne watched me and swallowed. “I’m a little preoccupied, that’s all.”

  “Tell me.” I pressed my thumb along her Mount of Venus, and she groaned.

  “University. Graduating. Moving. Lining up a fellowship. It’s a lot to plan for.”

  “Of course. But you know you can do it, that it’ll all work out.” I moved to her Mount of Luna. Mom had shown me how to “read” palms and it was absolute bullshit, but I liked remembering the names for each section of the hand, their attributes and purported significance. “You seem distant lately. Do you…” I cleared my throat because it pained me to say it. “Do you need some space?”