Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  A smug grin creeps across his face, and he releases me. “That’ll be sooner, rather than later.”

  I stand up and smooth out my dress. “Am I free to go now?”

  He still has that creepy grin on his face. His eyes rake over me one last time, and he nods. When I open the door, I find Ronan standing right outside, and my dead heart warms a little more. I reach up and ruffle his hair, making him nearly jump out of his skin again.

  “Aw, Ronan,” I coo. “Your concern for me is so touching. Think you could take him?”

  His eyes follow Sean as he brushes past us whistling a happy tune, and he grabs me by the arm. “Let’s get ye out of here.”

  Ronan ushers me out through the back door of the club and towards the car. But before we even make it within twenty feet of it, he freezes and shoves me behind him.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  A spray of gunfire erupts around us, and Ronan tosses us both behind one of the parked cars for cover. He pulls out his gun and tears off his jacket.

  “Do I need to answer that?” he grunts in annoyance.

  “Nope.” I squeak. “You’re good.”

  24

  LACHLAN

  CRACK. Crack. Crack.

  “They’re like goddamn cockroaches,” Rory yells over the drone of gunfire. “Ye think ye’ve got them all, and they just keep coming out of the woodwork.”

  I grunt out my agreement.

  The fucking Armenians.

  Only a handful of us knew about this meeting with the Russians tonight. Niall’s made certain to keep a tight leash on anything he sends down the pipe. Being that tonight’s affair is taking place in one of the Russian’s own clubs, it’s hard to believe that one of them arranged it. But if history is any indication, I think that’s exactly what happened.

  A bullet whizzes past my head. I crouch lower beneath the overturned table, firing back until my clip is empty. Two of their muppets collapse before I have to reload. Only one more clip remains in my pocket. I didn’t expect a fucking war when I came here. We aren’t even making an exchange which leads me to believe one thing. Whoever is giving this information away is purposely trying to unsettle our alliance with the Russians.

  Alexei creeps up beside me like a fecking cat. The man is deadly quiet, with the reflexes to match. I suppose he has to be, considering. Viktor will not be happy that his most prized possession is in the middle of this hailstorm of bullets. But Alexei is no slouch in combat.

  He fires off six rounds himself, hitting at least three blokes in the process. Then he turns to me and clips out a quick string of Russian. Too quick for me to understand all of it, but I get the gist that there’s some more ammo in the back. Problem is, that’s where half the bleeding gunfire is coming from.

  I nod and gesture for Rory to get to Conor. The young one’s practically pissing himself beneath the table he crawled under. Alexei and I go the opposite direction. We creep down the side of the wall using more tables and chairs for cover. When we approach the front door, Alexei makes a gesture to let me know he’s going in through the back. I tell him I’ll cover him from this end and watch him disappear out the door.

  In the meantime, I glance around the room to take stock of our lads. All of ours aren’t too bad off, except Conor’s been clipped in the arm. He’ll live. But when I count off the Russians, I don’t find Ivan anywhere. Another pass over the room, and I know something isn’t right about this.

  I fish out my phone and try to dial Ronan. Then something hits me from behind. And it isn’t even a goddamned Armenian.

  Two of the Russian recruits have got me cornered, knives in hand. They’re only young ones, too young to know any better. I pull off my jacket and toss it aside. They could’ve put a bullet in my head and been done with it, but it’s fairly obvious that isn’t on the agenda. If it’s a fight they’re after, then that’s what they’ll have.

  “Just give me the goddamn things,” I yell at Rory.

  He tosses me the bottle of pills and I wash three of them down with a shot of whiskey. Within moments, the pain ebbs away and delirium takes over.

  “Take me home.”

  Rory mutters something about the club and my wounds, but I don’t give a bollocks about any of it. My eyes fall shut and my head lolls against the leather seat.

  “Mack.”

  It’s the only word I can manage to get out. Somewhere in my wrecked state, I know I need to see her. Someone tried to kill her tonight. Tried to kill us both.

  When we pull up to the house, Rory and Michael carry me inside and help me down the hall. Ronan starts bitching about my wounds, but I tell him to piss off.

  I find the girl tucked into my bed, exactly where she should be. The lads toss my dead weight into the chair in the corner and Mack sits up with wide eyes.

  “Lach?” she whispers, her eyes moving over my body in panic. “Jesus.”

  She’s up on her feet and bolting to me before I can even ask her to.

  “You should have taken him to the fucking hospital!” she yells at Rory.

  He gives me a look and rolls his eyes as he shuffles out of the room. I grin and manage to tug Mack onto my lap somehow, my arm wrapping around her waist.

  “Ye’re awake, butterfly.”

  She nods against my chest. Everything is softer. Or harder. I’m not exactly sure. The lines are blurred, and the Oxy is working its way through my bloodstream, trying to put me to sleep. I just want to be inside of her.

  I’m not in the habit of keeping women around, but in my delirium I can admit I’d like to keep this one. My face collapses into her neck with a groan.

  “You still smell like me,” I tell her proudly.

  She rolls in my arms and presses her lips against my chest, and then my throat.

  “You sound surprised,” she murmurs.

  My arms tighten around her. “Ronan mentioned that Sean had words with ye.”

  “He did,” Mack says. “We had a drink, and I told him how much I love to ride your big cock.”

  There’s a huge grin on her face, and a low growl in my throat. That’s my girl.

  “So I don’t need to murder him then?” I pull her closer.

  “Nope,” she whispers.

  “Dance for me,” I plead as my head falls back against the chair. “Ye said ye’d only dance for me.”

  My words are slurred, and Mack smiles. It’s a real one, not like the ones she gives everyone else. She’s dead gorgeous when she smiles like that. Her eyes fly to the makeshift bandage wrapped around my arm and the cuts littering my chest.

  “You’ve been cut,” she notes. “I need to clean your wounds.”

  “After.”

  She looks at me and shakes her head, but to my relief, she does as I ask.

  “Okay, Lachlan.” She reaches up and palms my face, kissing me on the lips as she turns in my lap.

  She grinds her hips down onto me, and I groan. I’m dead weight. I can’t even touch her any more. But she’s never felt better than she does right now. Soft and feminine and warm to all of my hard places.

  “Ye’re getting me high, sweetheart,” I tell her.

  She smiles back at me. “I think that’s something else, Lach.”

  She pulls my tee shirt from over her head, and her breasts bounce as she rolls her hips and feathers her fingers over my neck. At some point, she reaches down and unbuttons my jeans. Then I’m inside of her, and everything else fades away.

  I don’t last. I can’t. She makes herself come on me, and then I fill her up with whatever I’ve got left.

  She leans back and kisses me on the cheek, her breath warm and sweet.

  “I don’t want to give ye away,” I confess in the darkness.

  There’s a pause of silence, and I know I’ve fucked up. But Mack just continues to stroke my skin with her fingers, none the wiser.

  “Go to sleep, Lachlan. I’ll take care of you.”

  25

  MACKENZIE

  WHEN I WAKE UP, the sp
ace beside me is empty. At least his pillow still smells like him. I roll over and bury my face into the material and inhale. My crazy mobster smells so good.

  I had to get Ronan to help me wrestle Lachlan’s ass into bed after I finished cleaning and stitching him. He was bleeding all over the place, but the cuts looked worse than they really were. I can just imagine what the guys who did that to him must look like right about now.

  I close my eyes and blow out a breath. Maybe it should bother me, but it doesn’t. I’m quickly learning that nothing about this world is black and white. Someone tried to kill me yesterday. Ronan wouldn’t tell me who it was, but I know he was Russian. Whoever it was ended up fleeing after Ronan hit him in the leg with a bullet. And then Lachlan came home wrecked too. I don’t know what they’re dealing in. But I know that someone is targeting them, and at this point, I don’t even give a fuck who’s doing the shooting. If they are shooting at Lachlan or I, then they’re a threat. Simple as that.

  I swallow the pain of my logic and putter to the kitchen, walking a little bit like a cowboy.

  Rummaging through the cupboards doesn’t turn up much as usual. Ronan did some grocery shopping, but the man has no taste for anything with sugar in it.

  Cornflakes it is, then.

  I grab a bowl and sit down at the table across from Ronan, who is already scowling at me for some unknown reason. He’s in fine form this morning.

  “Where’s Lach?” I ask.

  “He had business to tend.”

  “He hardly got any sleep,” I mumble around a mouthful of cereal.

  “Welcome to his life,” Ronan answers dryly.

  He continues to watch me eat, his eyes narrowed and the wheels in his eerily quiet head turning. By the time my spoon clatters into the empty bowl, I’m about ready to throw it at him.

  “You got something you want to say, Ronan?”

  I don’t actually expect him to answer. The majority of the time I’m lucky to get a grunt out of him.

  “What did Sean say to ye last night?” he asks.

  His voice is calm and quiet, but his body is even stiffer than usual. I can just imagine why. Somehow I doubt Lachlan would approve of this conversation.

  “The usual,” I answer honestly. “Lach’s a manwhore, he’ll tire of me quickly, there’s a rat… oh and the Armenian’s stole money from the club. The Russians, I believe.”

  Ronan stares at me but doesn’t make a peep. I can’t tell what’s going on in that noggin of his, but I know it probably isn’t good. I’m not supposed to know these things. But Sean told them to me for a reason, and I’m curious to find out why.

  “He also said Lachlan’s men don’t trust him,” I add.

  Ronan slams his fist on the table, and I actually flinch in surprise. He’s one of those scarily calm dudes, the kind that sort of looks like a serial killer or a professor, I can’t decide which. Though he’s always a little broody, I’ve never really seen him angry. Right now though, he looks like he’s about to have a hulk sized meltdown.

  “That’s a load’a horse shite,” he snarls. “Those lads aren’t just loyal to the syndicate, they are loyal to Crow.”

  “Alright, Ronan,” I tell him. “Just slow your roll. No need to have a coronary over it.”

  He glowers, and I continue.

  “I know Lach’s men are loyal, you don’t have to tell me. Loyalty is a big thing where I come from too.”

  On instinct, my fingers move to touch my necklace, but it isn’t there. My heart jumps into my throat as I feel around my neck with panicked hands.

  “What is it?” Ronan asks.

  “My necklace!” I shove my chair backwards and bolt to my feet. “It’s not here.”

  I can’t help the very raw and real reaction to finding it absent. It’s the only thing that ever meant anything to her. The last connection to Talia. I race back down the hall and start tearing Lachlan’s room apart, searching for it. I’m breathing hard and fast when someone comes in behind me.

  “Mack?” Lachlan calls out.

  “My necklace,” I choke out. “I can’t find my necklace!”

  “I have it right here,” he says.

  I wheel around and stare at him in disbelief. Sure enough, the silver chain is dangling between his fingers.

  “I had Conor take it to get cleaned this morning,” he says. “It looked like it could do with one.”

  “That wasn’t your call!” I snatch the necklace back from him and clench it with a shaking hand.

  He’s staring at me like I’m a frigging lunatic, and I know there are tears leaking down my face. I don’t care. Let him think me weak. When my eyes move to the heart-shaped pendant in my hand I want to scream out my frustration. It doesn’t look the same. It’s not the same. It’s all shiny and clean and new looking, but that wasn’t how Talia left it.

  “You shouldn’t have done this!” I yell. “If it’s not broke, don’t try to fix it. Hasn’t anyone told you that?”

  I don’t know what I expect when he stalks towards me, but when he pulls me into his arms and presses me against his chest, it isn’t that. He’s rubbing my back, holding me close… and comforting me. It’s too surreal to believe.

  “Come, sweetheart.”

  He pulls me onto the bed and lets me curl up in his lap. I’m still sniffling against him, and I’m embarrassed. God, I can’t believe how badly I just let my emotions show. Lachlan’s kissing away my tears and being unexpectedly sweet and gentle with me.

  “It won’t happen again,” he says. “I thought I was doing something good for ye.”

  Part of me feels guilty for the tension in his voice. It was a kind gesture, but he doesn’t understand what this necklace means to me. It’s like now there’s nothing left of Talia. All the old has been stripped away, and I didn’t want that. She wasn’t shiny and perfect. She was tarnished just like me. But I can’t blame Lachlan for not knowing that.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  Lach wipes my tears away and shakes his head. “Grab yourself a shower, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m taking ye out today.”

  26

  MACKENZIE

  SOME MEN TAKE their women to the movies, shopping, or out to dinner. Mine? He takes me to a boxing gym. And I grin like a lunatic when we step inside.

  “You going to spar with me?” I ask.

  He laughs. “If that’s what ye want, sweetheart.”

  “What about your cuts?”

  He gives me a look, and a couple of the guys around us chuckle too.

  “Don’t insult me, Mack.”

  I smile and shake my head. I know he’s taking time out of his schedule to do this. Time he probably doesn’t have, considering the Armenians are still breathing down his neck, and all the problems back at the club. So when I look up at him, I’m overcome by a wave of emotion. I reach up on my toes and plant a kiss right on his lips, in front of all the other guys. Lachlan likes this of course.

  “Go and get changed.” He hands me the bag I packed and points to the back. With a slap on the ass I’m on my way.

  When I come back out, dressed in my workout gear, Lachlan’s talking to another guy. I hardly notice who it is because Lach’s got his shirt off, and nothing but a pair of low hanging black track pants. I’m nearly salivating at the mouth just looking at him. I’m sure there are some good looking guys in this room. It’s chocka block with nothing but testosterone and sweat. But all I can see is Lachlan. I love how much bigger he is than me. How when he holds me at night, I feel small and safe in his arms. It’s crazy. But looking at him now, I can’t find a single flaw from his tattoos to the gold medal dangling from his chest. Everything about his body is addicting. Strong and lean with a flat stomach and hip bones that angle towards his glorious manhood. Some crazy part of my brain wants to demand that he walk around like this all the time.

  “Mack, c’mere,” he says.

  I walk towards him dutifully and he tugs me into his side with an expression of pride on his face as
he introduces me.

  “Jimmy, this is Mack.”

  “Lovely to meet ye.” Jimmy nods. “I hear ye’re a boxer?”

  I look up at Lachlan and grin. “Sometimes,” I say sweetly.

  Lach’s laughing again. It sounds nice. It doesn’t happen often.

  “Well youse two can have the ring for however long ye need it,” Jimmy says. “Or any other equipment ye want to use.”

  Hmm another benefit of being with Lachlan. Not having to wait our turn at the gym. I doubt there’s a man in here who would dare to refuse him a request. But as I glance around at a few of the familiar faces from within the syndicate, I realize the gym is probably one of theirs.

  Jimmy leaves us to it, and Lach helps me into some gloves. Over the next hour, we have at it, and I love that he doesn’t hold back with me. We draw an audience with our laughter and competitive insults after a while. He’s light on his feet and outmaneuvers me almost every time. I’m impressed with his strength and even more with his hot body, but I won’t tell him that.

  By the time we finish, Lachlan and I are both covered in sweat, and I’m too proud to say he’s exhausted me. We share a bottle of water, and then he slaps me on the ass again.

  “Let’s hit the showers, sweetheart.”

  I glance around the room full of men, and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, I got us covered.”

  He grabs my hand and gives Jimmy a little nod as we head into the changing room. I’m assuming that’s some sort of signal to tell everyone else to fuck off, but I don’t get a chance to ask. The minute we’re inside, he’s got me pressed up against the wall, grinding his body on mine.

  “Mack,” he groans as he kisses his way down my throat. “I’m so fecking hard for ye, sweetheart.”

  To prove his point, he grabs my hand and presses it over the bulge in his pants. He isn’t lying, it’s like a frigging rock. I glance over at the open entryway into the change room and bite my lip.

  “Someone could hear us,” I protest half-heartedly.

  Lachlan’s eyes flash and he grins. “Oh I want them to hear us, butterfly. I want all the lads to know who’s inside of ye. The only man that’ll ever be inside of ye.”