Connelly Crime Family Trilogy

by Winters, KB

  With more force than was necessary, I tore off my gloves to make a statement and dropped them in a wastebasket. “We done here?”

  Lorenzo looked up at me and touched my arm. “Thank you for taking a look at me, Margo.”

  I could have said a million things to him, starting with the fact that I wasn’t here by choice. Instead, I shrugged off his touch and without looking at him, said, “You’re welcome.”

  If I didn’t know any better I would have sworn that look on Lorenzo’s face was regret. Luckily, I did know better.

  “Get me some food, yeah?” His stupid smile made me want to throat punch the old man but I didn’t hurt old people. Unless they hurt me first.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rourke

  “Have you been cooking all day, Ma?” The dining room table was already filled with food, but the large island in the kitchen still looked like a holiday feast was underway.

  She accepted my hug before she pulled back with a sigh. “I’ve been cooking since you were sequestered. The only good thing about all this extra food is that Shae’s little girlfriend insisted we take the leftovers to the local homeless and women’s shelters.”

  Ma was no fan of any new female additions to the family, a fact that never failed to amuse me.

  “She’s gonna be around for now, Ma. Get used to it and try to be nice.”

  “I’m always nice, son.”

  “Bullshit,” I told her playfully. “You enjoyed being the only woman around here for too many years and it made you spoiled rotten and mean.”

  “Only to the unworthy,” she grinned mischievously. “Luckily, I’ll never have to worry about that with you, since you seem to have the same whorish ways as your father did, may he rot in hell.”

  She smiled sweetly as she always did when she spoke of my father, a man who beat her often only to die in an act of irony, defending Ma’s honor against a Milano, who now rested six feet under just like my old man.

  “Thanks, Ma. Appreciate the confidence.” I grinned at her.

  “Enough of that. Help me finish setting the table.”

  Fifteen minutes later the table strained under the weight of the food as family members filed in. Eamon escorted Layla in with their heads bowed and talking quietly. Patrick walked in alone, Brenna right behind him like the dutiful stray she’d become over the years, just ahead of Shae and his woman, Ivy. Conor was already gone, but Shamrock was there along with a few other men who would take shifts protecting the compound.

  “Where’s the Byrne girl?” Patrick’s growl stopped all conversation and every pair of eyes in the room turned to him.

  Layla spoke up first. “Eamon asked me to take food up to her a while ago and she said she wasn’t hungry. I didn’t push it.”

  “I want her down here. Now.”

  I didn’t know why the hell he was being so adamant about this, but I pushed my chair back. “I’ll get her,” and made for the stairs.

  “Leave the girl alone,” Ma insisted. “She’s been through hell and the last thing she wants is to dine with a bunch of strangers. It’s enough she took care of the old man.”

  “I said I want her down here,” Patrick growled again, and I took off for the guest room Ma had put her in earlier.

  Why in the hell wasn’t she down here, anyway? She had to be hungry. She’d only eaten half a sandwich with me on the road, and then she’d refused everything sent up to her. Starving herself was no way to get revenge. Silly woman. When I reached her room, I twisted the knob and pushed, but the door didn’t give, forcing me to knock.

  She didn’t answer and I knocked again. “Open the door, Margo.”

  “Go away.”

  “Don’t make me kick the damn door down.”

  “Like I give a shit. It’s not my door. Or my house. Not even my fucking family!”

  Damn stubborn woman. “Margo. Open the damn door.” She remained silent, and my stomach churned, knowing as well as she did that the door was much too big and far too fucking strong for anyone to break down. Patrick had made sure of it.

  “My uncle Patrick wants you to join the family for dinner.”

  “Yeah, well I’d like to be having dinner at my own house or maybe with my own goddamn family. Turns out, we can’t all get what we want.”

  I wanted to throttle the stubbornness out of her, but she was right. The problem was that I couldn’t go back downstairs without her, and I knew it.

  “Eamon thought you might need this.” Patrick’s housekeeper, Rory, held up a ring of keys with a smile.

  “Bless you, Rory.” I squeezed the middle-aged woman in a hug that made her laugh.

  “Good luck,” she said and disappeared back down the stairs.

  It took a few minutes, but I managed to find the right key to open the door. When it opened, Margo didn’t move from her spot near the window.

  “I’m not going down there,” she said with her back to me.

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Wanna bet?” Then, without warning, she dropped down to the floor, flat onto her back. “Seriously?” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “What on earth did I ever do to deserve this shit?”

  “This doesn’t have to get ugly, Margo.”

  “It got ugly when you kidnapped me. I wish I’d left you in that goddamn warehouse.”

  “Yeah, and you’d still be stuck in there with me,” I grumbled. “Come down and eat.”

  “Fuck you, Rourke.”

  “Already did that, sweetheart.”

  “And that was my second mistake. The first was trusting you.”

  This was ridiculous. I crouched down and, grunting and groaning, managed to get her, kicking and pounding my back, over my shoulder. She reached out for something to grab onto as I carried her down the stairs and learned what the term greased pig meant. But I was smart enough not to tell Margo I thought of her in those terms.

  Man, she was a wild woman coming down that staircase, almost toppling both of us. But I deposited her on the floor just outside the dining room and warned, “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

  She barked out a laugh. “I don’t give a shit what you or any of these fuckers think of me.”

  “Get in there. Now.”

  She got in my face, no hint of fear in her blue eyes. “Fuck. Off.”

  “What is the goddamn meaning of this?” Patrick’s roar echoed on the other side of the closed pocket doors. I slid them open and stared at him.

  “Fiona spent all day cooking this delicious meal,” he said in a dark voice, “so get your asses in here and fucking eat.”

  It wasn’t an invitation but a demand.

  I glared at Margo, and she glared back, anger radiating off her like sparks in a fire. I knew she wouldn’t back down.

  “It’s your funeral,” I whispered and took my seat at the table. “Smells great, Ma.”

  Patrick’s hand slammed against the table. “What is the meaning of this, girl? You’re turning down my hospitality?”

  Arms folded, she stepped into the doorway and glared at him. “It’s not hospitality if I don’t want to be here, it’s kidnapping.”

  My uncle’s gaze slid to mine, a hint of a question that disappeared quickly. “We’re offering you protection.”

  “Whether I want it or not? Funny, that still sounds like kidnapping to me.” Damn, she was a sassy little thing. It was too bad that wouldn’t fly with Patrick.

  He nodded slowly, assessing her bright red hair that had been tamed into a bun, which only highlighted her porcelain skin and bright blue eyes.

  “After my nephew kept you safe and helped you get back home?”

  Margo smiled and then tossed her head back and snorted a laugh. “Is that what he told you? I saved him, and while I was in the shower, he snuck out with the money I stole and called you. Good to see how you fucking Connellys pay back kindness. Then you threatened me at gun point to take care of your sick hostage. So fuck your hospitality!”

  She turned her back
on Patrick and left.

  “Get back here!”

  “Fuck you, old man! You might think you can keep me here, but don’t pretend like I’m some fucking guest to your dinner party.”

  Silence filled the dining room for several long moments. Eamon looked ready to force Margo back to the table. Shae was just dumbfounded.

  Patrick laughed. “She’s got a mouth on her, that’s for sure.”

  His laugh was long and hard, continuing until it ended in a coughing fit. “She’ll get hungry enough to eat soon.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Margo

  I stayed on the floor of the bedroom and spent hours staring at nothing until my vision blurred. Then, I kept staring until my head began to throb and ache. The sun set and the room grew dark except for the light that filtered in from the hall.

  Footsteps sounded, and I knew they would stop at my door. “I brought food,” a chipper female voice called out.

  I didn’t respond because I was too exhausted to keep explaining to these assholes that I wouldn’t eat a thing they offered me.

  “You have to eat sometime,” she said lightly. The aroma of the food permeated the air, and my stomach growled again. She laughed and came into the room. “You can’t starve yourself.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  She was pretty with long blonde hair and almond shaped eyes that gave her a girl next-door appeal to offset her bombshell curves. Even with her face crinkled in confusion, she was beautiful. “You can trust the food. It’s really good.”

  “No thank you. I don’t know you. Any of you.”

  “You know Rourke,” she insisted.

  “Clearly not or I wouldn’t have been kidnapped again. I’m not eating your food so please go away.” She stared at me for a few minutes, left the food and closed the door behind her.

  ***

  And then they were back. Rourke and his gang of four, plus Patrick for extra artillery. I ignored them, giving the whole crew the cold shoulder. Not even turning to give them a look, to show any curiosity about their mission this time. I’d find out soon enough. It didn’t take long.

  “The old man’s taken a turn,” Rourke said. He stood about half way between the door and my bed.

  “What’s it to me? Call a doctor.”

  “We’re telling you.”

  “I’ve done all I can do. I told you to feed him and give him his meds. Beyond that he needs a doctor.”

  “Not happening,” Rourke insisted, moving a step closer as if that would threaten me or convince me. “Take a look at him.”

  Patrick stayed oddly quiet, letting Rourke do the talking.

  “What part of no don’t you understand?”

  “What part of yes don’t you get, bitch?” That bit of eloquence came from the guy he’d called Shae earlier.

  “Tell you what,” I said, turning to face Rourke for the first time. “You all clear out of the house, give me the keys to one of your cars, a sack of cash so I can get on my way, and I’ll take a look at Lorenzo on my way out. Deal?”

  After the pause, I snarked a laugh. “Thought so. We do it your way or the highway.”

  “You’re forgetting Patrick’s big gun,” Shae said, jerking his head toward the man.

  I leaned over to make my point. “You’re forgetting I don’t give a flying fuck about his gun.”

  “Will you shut the fuck up, Shae?” Patrick said, going silent again.

  Then Rourke turned to me, “Margo, we gotta work this out. We can’t let you go and you can’t let Lorenzo die. Now count to ten or whatever you have to do to get over your tantrum and let’s get it done.”

  He had his hand on his hip and gave me a look like he was a circus trainer trying to tame a wild animal. Pieces of the puzzle started to click into place. It all made a sick and stupid sort of sense when I thought about it, but none of that gave me any peace. I was in this shit through no fault of my own, but I now had enough of the pieces to make a calculated risk.

  “Give me a phone and some privacy, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  The arguing stopped and all eyes were on me once again. Shae tried his best to look intimidating, but it just made me want to kick him in the balls.

  “Or I could make you tell us.” Shae said.

  “Or I can sit in this corner and starve to death and you assholes can deal with the aftermath of Donovan Byrne. I’m sure if he hasn’t yet, Daniel Milano will tell my father that he last saw me leaving with a member of the Connelly Family.”

  I sat back with a resigned smile and hoped it would all be over soon.

  One way or another.

  Chapter Twenty - One

  Rourke

  Why the fuck did she have to be so goddamn stubborn? My mind turned that question over about a thousand times as we filed out of Margo’s room.

  Shae fumed in front of me as we descended the staircase and made our way to Patrick’s office. In front of him, Eamon swore under his breath about stubborn women and stupid plans while Patrick kept his spine straight and his shoulders squared as he walked behind his desk, working hard to appear calm. Unaffected.

  I knew it was an act because I’d been watching my uncle since I was a little boy, noticing the power dynamics in the family. So I knew where I fit in. That’s how I knew he was shaken by Margo’s disobedience. In his world no one disobeyed him, least of all, a woman. A young woman.

  “This is unacceptable.” His gaze cut straight to me like this was somehow my fault.

  “Goddamn right it is,” Shae growled, practically vibrating with unspent energy. “What the fuck is up with her anyway?”

  Loyalty was one thing, stupidity was another. “Did you really think we could keep her here against her will, and she’d just cooperate?” I’d been hopeful but I knew enough about Margo to know that she didn’t do anything easily.

  Shae froze and a scowl darkened his features. “We’re trying to keep the bitch safe, or are you too pussy whipped to see that?”

  I laughed at his little boy antics. “If you were in her shoes would you see it our way? Fuck no.” I didn’t wait for an answer, just turned to my uncle. “Patrick, surely you can see this isn’t working for any of us. We can’t afford to let the old man die, and we sure as hell can’t risk Byrne thinking we’re working with the fucking Milanos.”

  I knew Margo was just trying to manipulate the situation, but she wasn’t wrong. “On the brink of war we need our allies to know they are allies, even if it is just temporarily.”

  My uncle gave us all a shrewd gaze. Assessing. “Would you be saying this if she were a two-hundred-pound man?”

  “If his father could be an important ally in this fight against Lorenzo Milano and his fucking family, damn right I would.”

  “This has nothing to do with your time in the motel room?” The fucking nerve of Eamon to even go there.

  “You mean the way you paid forty grand just to fuck Layla?”

  He lunged forward. “That’s my fiancé you’re talking about,” he snarled.

  “Yeah, but she wasn’t when you let your cock do the decision making, was she?” I sent him a smug grin and turned back to Patrick. “If you want to make an enemy of someone we have a common enemy with, go right ahead. It’ll let Daniel and Lorenzo know that you’re unraveling.”

  “Bite your fuckin’ tongue, boy!” Patrick sent his own snarl out into the room, and I had to suppress a grin.

  “I never unravel,” he said, his voice booming across the room. “I’m as steady as a goddamn stone and by God, you remember that.”

  He pointed a thick finger in my direction, and I pretended to be terrified. “I agree but that’s not what this will look like. If Byrne had Eamon would you feel the same?”

  We all knew he would burn down the whole goddamn town to get his first born back, and the smirk on his face said he knew it too.

  “We both know I would.” Patrick sighed and stared at the hypnotic pattern of the wood finish on his desk, something he did often w
hen he was weighing big decisions. “Thought you had more charm, Rourke.”

  “Lesson learned, Patrick. There is no amount of charm in the world that can make a woman forgive being kidnapped a second time by the man she helped save during the first kidnapping.”

  It was the most ridiculous statement I’d ever said in my whole goddamn life.

  I knew it.

  They knew it.

  Seconds later we were all doubled over in a fit of laughter. The moment wasn’t right, but sometimes the tension just became too much, and it needed an outlet. Eventually the laughter died down, and Patrick’s expression turned serious again.

  “Fine, let her call her father. But she stays here,” he said firmly.

  “We need to hear that conversation,” Eamon insisted in a tone that had Patrick’s eyebrows raised high.

  “No, we don’t. Rourke is right about Byrne; he’s an ally. One I would like to keep. His personal life might be a fucking mess, but he’s the best damn launderer around.”

  That fact, it seemed, would be Margo’s saving grace.

  Shae glared at me. “You better be right about her.”

  I glared right back and got in his face. “And if I’m wrong you can blame keeping her against her will for what happens, not me.”

  I stared him down and he stared right back, breaths coming fast and shallow. Things could go either way. A fistfight or one of us would walk away.

  “That’s bullshit,” he spat back.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Patrick smacked his fist on his desk to get our attention. “This issue is over and dealt with so why are you still discussing it? Get out.”

  Shae wanted to argue, but the dark look Patrick wore stopped him cold. He sneered at me but said, “All right.”

  “I’ll get a phone to Margo,” I assured Patrick as I made my way to the door.

  “Have one of the women do it. Not Fiona.”

  I wanted to argue, but it was pointless because I knew he was tired of having to explain his decisions to any of us and would explode any minute now.

  “All right.”

  Margo had another brief reprieve, but we would talk. Soon.