Rake: A Dark Boston Irish Mafia Romance (The Carneys Book 1)

by Sophie Austin

  “Finn, please. Don’t…” My voice is a whisper.

  “You’re the one making this hard on yourself,” he says, tipping up my chin. “When P.J. said I had to take care of this problem, what do you think he meant?”

  Hot tears fill my eyes and my hands shake. I know damn well what he meant.

  He runs a thumb under my eye, wiping the tears away.

  “Just one name, Sasha. And all of this will go away.”

  “What do you have to lose by standing up to your father?” I stammer. “Why are you really keeping me here?”

  He smiles softly at me, stroking my cheek with his knuckle. “I’m keeping you here so my father knows we’re working together. Otherwise he’ll have you or your family killed, and that’d be a shame. As for me? My father and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things, but when it comes down to it, he’d dispose of me too if it suits him. Better that it doesn’t.”

  I look at the scar on his eyebrow and suck in a deep breath. How am I going to get out of this?

  “You won’t hurt my brother?” I whimper.

  “No. I won’t. I just want to let him know not to expect you. It’d be better if you don’t contact him right now. It’s safer this way, Sasha. Can’t you see that? It’s not just your life hanging in the balance here.”

  How should I even respond to that? He’s right, but it’s not like he’s helpless in this situation. Maybe I’m not entirely either, but I have far less power and resources.

  I’ll stay for now, though. Let Carney think I’m negotiating with his son. Let him underestimate me again.

  I nod, wiping at my eyes.

  Finn squeezes my shoulder.

  “I meant what I said about locking the door.”

  He leaves. I want to warn my brother, but I’m afraid if I do, he’ll do something foolish. Benjamin was horrified at what happened to me, and that he couldn’t protect me. But he’s just a kid. There’s nothing he could have done – but he’s still too young to realize that.

  But I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him, Jamilah, and all the people at Trinity who are relying on me.

  I can’t let James Carney win this time. I won’t survive it.

  6

  Finn

  My father won’t be happy about the petition, but at least I’ll be able to warn him. That’ll show I’m making progress. It’s not ideal, but it could be worse.

  It’d been too easy to suss out Sasha’s weaknesses, and I’d be sure to keep putting pressure on them. The fear of not knowing what’s happening to her precious brother might drive her to give up her contact eventually. I haven’t asked her to name everyone involved.

  Like I said, every job has its own code of conduct, and that’d push Sasha’s too far. But one person? Surely she’d sacrifice one person to save her baby brother.

  It’s easy enough to find her address. She lives off Broadway Street in Everett. The plan is strategic: I decide to go there first to give her more time to think before I see my father —not that I expect her to flip so soon. Not someone of her particular ethics.

  The streets have been plowed, so the main streets are down to the asphalt. The side streets still have an inch or so of compressed icy sludge, though, so I can’t drive as fast as I like to.

  The sun is out, reflecting off the fresh snow, making the city look cleaner than usual. I pull on a pair of sunglasses to help with the glare as I turn onto Sasha’s street. The houses are mostly two-family with shared driveways, stacked right on top of each other.

  They’re in various states of disrepair, and I imagine knocking them down to put up tasteful condos. My Range Rover rolls to a stop in front of number 874.

  God, what a dump. It might as well have wheels underneath it.

  It’s another two-family house, painted yellow with a dilapidated chain-link fence lining what I imagine is a classy yard chock full of cement gnomes or something else God-awful. The house’s paint is peeling, and several of the windows are cracked and broken.

  And is that plastic wrap on the inside of the windows? Depressing.

  A teenage boy shovels the walkway. It’s easy to guess who he is.

  Stepping out of my SUV, I avoid the worst piles of snow. The kid watches me. When he realizes I’m heading his way, he leans the shovel against a rusted railing that’s pulled out from the stairs. He’s going to be tall when he’s fully grown. Already he’s far outstripped his sister, though he’s not quite six feet yet.

  He meets me at the sidewalk. “Can I help you?”

  His voice is deep, which surprises me. He wears a silly knit hat with a pom-pom on the top.

  “I think so,” I say, smiling my most charming smile. “Are you Sasha Saunders’ brother?”

  His body stiffens. “Yes. Is she…” He almost can’t get the words out. He looks like he’s going to vomit.

  “She’s hurt, but she’s okay,” I say. “Don’t worry—she just slipped. Nothing worse than that.”

  He doesn’t need to know the truth. Sasha would prefer he be protected, I’m sure.

  “She slipped?” The kid’s suspicious. I don’t blame him.

  Smart, like his sister.

  “Outside of my building. I live near her office. She asked me to check in with you because she knew you’d worry.”

  “Why didn’t she just text me?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest. Good lord. The boy would fight me if he needed to. It’s adorable.

  “Her phone broke when she fell. No offense but it wasn’t exactly sturdy to begin with.” I don’t know that for sure, but I bet anything she spends all of her money on him and barely any on herself.

  “I told her to get a new phone.”

  He looks guilty. Doesn’t like his sister protecting him. It makes me respect him a little more. Time to switch tactics.

  “I thought I could talk to your father? She’s insisting on coming home for you even though she needs medical attention.”

  “I can handle our father,” he snaps.

  “Thank God,” I say. “Listen. Can I ask you something? Man to man?”

  He nods.

  Like taking candy from a baby.

  “Something bad happened to your sister, right? She wouldn’t say what, but her ankle is busted and she still wants to skip the doctor.”

  Busted is not a word I use often. But it helps to match the vernacular to your audience, and everything about this neighborhood is busted.

  “Is it that bad?”

  “She needs to be off her feet for a bit, but she insisted I drive her home because she wanted to protect you from your dad. And I told her that I have three sisters, and I’d be damned if I let any of them get hurt on my behalf. I thought you’d feel the same way. She said you were only a kid, but you don’t look like a kid to me.”

  “I don’t need her to take care of me,” he snaps. “She almost fucking died. If I find out who hurt her, I swear to God I’ll kill them myself. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life in jail.”

  Charming. But embarrassing. I was so much savvier at seventeen.

  “She won’t understand,” I say. “But she doesn’t need to. Like I said, I’ve got sisters too, and if anyone hurt them, I’d make them pay.”

  He’s grateful to be let into this club with me, and it feels perverse. It’s amusing to think of how Hamish could obliterate this kid, though he wouldn’t. No kids: it’s part of Hamish’s code. Still, P.J. could destroy him. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.

  He stares at me for a few long seconds. He still isn’t completely sold. His pretty sister doesn’t have strange men showing up at their house too often, then.

  “I can’t claim to know your sister very well. But she doesn’t like asking for help. I’d like to get her a new phone and cover her medical bills since she fell outside my place. Will you be okay until tomorrow?”

  The wrathful look he gives me is excellent. People who act in anger generally make terrible judgment calls. Like trusting me, for one.

 
“I’ll be fine. Tell Sasha I’m fine. Just have her text me after you get her the phone. Does she need anything? Clothes and stuff?”

  Oh, I would love to meet her father. Get more ammunition.

  “That’d be great. Can you show me to her room?”

  “Yeah. My dad’s awake, though, so you’ll understand why she’s worried.” He shrugs.

  “I’m Finn, by the way,” I say, offering my hand. He shakes it firmly. This kid is ridiculous.

  “Benjamin. Come with me.”

  He takes me in through a side entrance. The storm door is coming off the hinges and bangs shut with an ungodly noise as we pass through the interior door.

  “You finish the shoveling already, boy?”

  Sasha’s father is a sight to behold. He’s in a filthy patchwork recliner wearing a Bruins jersey with holes in the chest, tufts of gray hair poking out. Though it’s only close to eleven am, a beer rests on his aptly named beer gut, which folds over ratty sweatpants frayed at the hems. His feet look more like hooves sticking out of the end.

  It’s hard to believe this man fathered either Sasha or Benjamin. He sees me in the doorway and sneers.

  Sasha hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d called him a loser.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he slurs.

  “He’s a friend of Sasha’s,” Benjamin says. “She’s staying with him for now.”

  “Good for her.” He waves his beer at me. “Maybe you can offer her something better than a few days in the ICU. Told her organizing is men’s work.”

  If it’s men’s work, then why isn’t he doing it? Disgusting.

  “Besides,” he continues, “I’m pretty sure our delicate little princess is still a virgin. I knocked her mother up before she was old enough to drink so she doesn’t get that virtue from her. Still, you’re going to want to hit that before those rich guy’s goons come back and finish the job.”

  Benjamin surges toward his father, and I hold him back.

  “He’s not worth it,” I say softly, as if I’m talking to my teenage self. “Don’t sink to his level. Just get the fuck out and take Sasha with you.”

  I’m surprised to hear myself say it.

  “Awwww,” her father says. “Tough guy. Don’t worry, Benji. I only hit her when you’re not here. She should thank me. It probably prepared her for getting her ass handed to her back in July.”

  Jesus Christ. This man is a monster. I try not to think about what that makes me. With an effort, I keep my hand on Benjamin’s chest and push him toward the stairs.

  “She told me you’re going to school for engineering?”

  His eyes are hazel too, though muddier than hers.

  “Benjamin!” I snap.

  He focuses his attention on me.

  “Yeah,” he says, blinking the tears of rage from his eyes. “Engineering. Fuck. I didn’t know he still hit her.”

  It’s like an episode of reality television. I’ll do what I have to to protect myself and my family’s interests, but if Sasha cooperates, she and her brother could be free of that despicable man.

  “You need to get to college, Benjamin. She’ll leave when you do. August will be here sooner than you know. She can do that. She’s a strong person.”

  I’m raising the stakes again. I have a lot to share with Sasha when I get back. Her brother sucks in a deep breath and takes me to her room. It’s small, but neat. Benjamin picks up a travel bag and hands it to me.

  “You’ll take care of her until her ankle’s healed?” he asks. “Keep her away from here?”

  “As long as she’ll let me,” I say.

  “She’s done so much for me,” he continues. So earnest, this boy.

  Which gives me another idea on how to convince Sasha to cooperate.

  “If I can find out who hurt her?” I offer.

  His eyes flash. “You’ll let me know?”

  “I will.”

  And maybe I’ll tell him if she doesn’t give me what I want.

  He leaves to let me pack a bag for his sister. Her clothes are all trash. I was right—she spends nothing on herself. Looking through her lingerie drawers, it’s all cheap cotton panties and bras.

  Never mind. I don’t want to bring this junk into my home. I carry the empty bag out, shake her brother’s hand, and head back downstairs. Her loathsome father smokes a cigarette. Inside the house.

  “Listen!” he shouts at me. I stare at him, though every inch of my being tells me to leave this train wreck behind. “I don’t expect someone like you to stay with trash like Sasha, but if you do deflower her, make sure you give me my due. I’ve kept her pure this whole time.”

  He coughs, the sound juicy and thick.

  Deflower? Did he honestly use the word deflower? I want to deck him, knock his pathetic ass out of that chair. Instead I just leave, driving to my family’s house in Back Bay and shake off that horrific encounter.

  I can’t let pity for Sasha cloud what I need to get done. It’s time to put her pig of a father out of my mind. Her situation is unfortunate, but she has an opportunity here to make it better. She’d foolish not to take it. She’s not trash, not like him, but her future isn’t bright if she doesn’t work with me.

  When I enter the house, my baby sister Bridget greets me.

  “Finn!” she says, running over and tossing her arms around my neck. I don’t know why she’s always happy to see me. She’s an outlier in our family. We’re all tall: even the women, but she stopped growing at five foot four —around the same height as Sasha, now that I think of it. Her hair is a deep auburn, whereas Siobhan and Catriona have strawberry blonde hair.

  “Hi, honey,” I say, hugging her. “Is Dad home?”

  She pouts. “You didn’t come to see me?”

  “No such luck.”

  “Is it bad?” she asks, her green eyes widening in concern. “Finn, do you need anything?”

  My sweet baby sister. It’s hard to believe she’s a Carney sometimes.

  “No, honey, it’s fine.” I don’t want her to worry. Not if she doesn’t have to. “Just a few issues with the casino staff. We’ll figure it out.”

  “I have to get to practice,” she says, “but if you need anything…”

  “Is someone driving you?”

  Bridget’s a ballerina and a terrible driver.

  “It’s just down the street. I’ll walk.”

  “It’s icy as hell out there. I don’t want you getting hurt. I’ll walk you first and then check in with Dad.”

  A ripple of…something…runs through me, thinking about Sasha back at my place with her bruised neck and sprained ankle as I make the offer to Bridget.

  Bridget’s face lights up as she slips into her coat and picks up her gear. I’m twelve years older than she is, and I feel the heaviness of that in this moment. I take her gear bag from her and drape it over my shoulder. When we get outside, she catches my arm and threads her arm through.

  “Are you going to the gala on Thursday?” she asks.

  It’s for the investors. I have to go. “I am.”

  Her arm tightens around mine as we hit an icy patch of ground. The sidewalk is all brick here. It looks interesting, but it’s not at all functional. As the mortar decays, ice settles in, pushing the bricks further apart. It’s uneven and more hazard than anything else.

  “Yay, good.” She chatters on gleefully about what she’s going to wear and whose cute sons could be there. As if I’ll let anyone get close to her. It makes me think of how someone should have protected Sasha’s mother from her terrible father. When we get to the studio, I hand her her bag.

  “Can someone walk you back?” I ask. “I’ll be gone by the time you’re out.”

  She pouts again. “Already? You’re not staying for dinner?”

  Decidedly not.

  “No, but I’ll see you on Thursday at the latest. Ask Rory to get you.”

  Rory’s my youngest brother. He and Bridget are close.

  “Okay,” she says. “See you Thursday.�
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  I pat her hand, and she rushes inside to dance. Seeing her was a little gift before having to deal with our father.

  I’m back to the Carney compound in minutes and knock on his office door. He only makes me wait about fifteen seconds this time.

  “Well?” he asks.

  “You’re getting served,” I say, casually. “Monday. Thought you’d like to know.”

  “Goddamnit,” he hisses. “Great job fixing things, Finn, as usual!”

  I’d known about this issue for less than a week, while he knew for six months, and yet somehow this is my fault.

  “I’m working on it. Sasha, the organizer—she’s at my apartment now.”

  My father is all too familiar with my prowess with women. A smug smile crosses his face.

  “I went to visit her family,” I continue. “She has a little brother she’s close to. Would do anything for him. I’ve asked her for the names of our staff who started the process. The NLRB can hold an election if they want, but if our staff can be convinced to vote no, this will all go away.”

  My father folds his arms over his chest.

  “It’d better, Finn. I can’t exactly fire everyone and start from scratch. We don’t have the funds for that, and I don’t need any more bad press. We’re already under scrutiny by the gaming commission for fixing the slots.”

  “Are we?” I ask.

  “That’s between me and Callan. Make her come with you to the gala on Thursday, Finn. I want all of the staff to see her on your arm. Give them second thoughts about trusting her.”

  Perfect. I’d spend the weekend getting to know her, one way or another, and then take her to the gala and seal the deal.

  “My pleasure,” I say, letting the double entendre settle between us.

  My father laughs. “I’m going to call the lawyers to see what else I can do in the meantime.”

  I take that as the dismissal it is. I manage to get back to my car without running into my mother. That’s always a blessing.