Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  His grip on me is rough, but I realize as the seconds tick by it isn’t because of the need to kill. It’s something else in his eyes. Something I know must be reflected in my own. I cling to his biceps and pull him closer against me. I don’t know why. Only that I want to.

  “Ronan,” I murmur against him. “Ronan.”

  I don’t know why I’m saying his name. If it’s a plea or something else.

  A sound rips from his throat, and he buries his face in my neck and inhales my skin as he grinds against me. He’s hard. And it’s completely insane, but all of the tension snaps between us. All the boundaries that ever existed dissolve under the proximity of our bodies. When his hands roam over me, it stirs a long dormant need inside of me. Feelings I haven’t felt before. Feelings I’ll probably never have again.

  I reach down and yank his pelvis against mine while my other hand strokes through his hair. His hands are everywhere on me, touching me anywhere he can reach. We’re like two wild animals, going at each other in a fight to the death.

  Somewhere in the chaos, he unzips his pants. I pull up my skirt and tug my panties aside. There’s a moment of hesitation on his part. And I know it’s so wrong. My boyfriend is lying dead on the other side of the room. Where Ronan just killed him. He’s still covered in his blood. And now we’re trying to fuck right here in the aftermath. I’m so broken. So fucked up to want this. I don’t feel anything over the loss of Blaine, but I know that I want this. That I might die if I don’t have it right now.

  I reach down and touch him. He’s thick and hot, and I want him inside of me. Ronan makes another agonized sound as I guide him there. I wrap my legs around him and he sinks all the way in. He fucks me in a jerky and uncoordinated rhythm. But when I reach up to touch his face, he pauses.

  “Don’t,” I tell him.

  He can’t stop now. I won’t let him.

  The feelings I have for this man at times are unexplainable. I’m drawn to him. I always have been. But this is something else altogether. This is pure physics. He’s the lightning, and I am simply a conductor. We were always bound to converge.

  When he moves again, he’s looking down at me with uncertainty even as he thrusts inside of me. I don’t care. I can’t think straight. About anything. He pushes, and I give way. My body melts into the floor, yielding to him completely. I barely touch myself, and I explode around him.

  The resulting tremors that move through me cause Ronan’s entire body to jerk as he collapses forward and comes inside of me. The whole event couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes, but I can’t recall a time in my life where anything ever felt so good.

  Until he pulls away like I’m toxic, threatening to pollute him too. His eyes move towards the door, then back to me. And then he says the first and only word he’s ever spoken to me. A bullet to my heart at point blank range.

  “Leave.”

  I wake up in a cold sweat, tangled up inside of my bedsheets. Confusion takes over when I sit up and glance around the room. I’m still wearing my yoga pants and a sweatshirt, but Ronan’s jacket is hung on the back of my bedroom door. I don’t remember putting it there. I don’t remember coming inside at all.

  The faintest hint of malt liquor lingers on my sweatshirt and I bring it to my nose and inhale. It’s fresh. I scrub the sleep from my eyes and shake my head as I glance at the clock. It’s only six am. I haven’t had nearly enough sleep. But I get up anyway and pad down the hall to mom’s room. I just want to be near her now. And forget everything else.

  5

  SASHA

  IT’S MY DAY OFF, and even though I resolved that I wasn’t going to take the pills unless I was working, I’m too tired to function. I can’t get to sleep anymore. It doesn’t come, no matter how exhausted I am.

  When my head hits the pillow, I just lay there and think about my Ma. About what my life is going to be like when she’s gone. I had to call Emily and tell her it was time to come home. It’s only made everything that much more real.

  That’s what my excuse is when I reach into my purse to pull out the pill bottle. I’ve been full of excuses lately. But I don’t really give a shit either. I’m doing the best that I can to get through the situation.

  Only when I pull the bottle from my purse, I stare at it in confusion. Because it’s empty. The lid is screwed on tight, and the pills are gone. It doesn’t make any sense. But my suspicion only grows. Instinctively, my eyes dart to the jacket hanging over my doorknob. The same one I was wearing last night up on the roof. I know I didn’t walk back down here by myself. And I know that Ronan’s scent didn’t just magically appear on my sweatshirt.

  And lastly, I know these frigging pills didn’t just get rid of themselves.

  But none of it makes any sense. Why would he be here? And an even better question is, how did he know about the pills? No matter which way I spin it, none of it makes a bit of sense.

  These questions are all left unanswered when a knock sounds at the front door. I quickly scoop up the empty container and throw it in the garbage before doing a quick once over in the hall mirror.

  I’m not expecting anybody, but on occasion the neighbors drop in to see how Ma’s doing. That’s who I assume it is. So when I open my door and find Lachlan Crow standing there, words fail me. He’s technically my boss, and soon to be the new underboss of the MacKenna Syndicate, if the gossip around the club is correct.

  But he’s never paid me a house visit before, so when I find him standing here now, I have to admit it makes me a little nervous. I don’t know him that well, but his girlfriend Mack is totally cuckoo for this guy. He’s always been respectful towards me, but it doesn’t change who he is. He’s a mafia guy, through and through. For that reason alone, I try to avoid him.

  But I adore Mack. And after recent events with Donovan, I owe her a lot.

  When Blaine died, I thought that I was free. But I quickly learned that in this life, you only trade in one form of chains for another. Donovan soon took on the role of Blaine and filled his shoes easily. He wasn’t as violent, but his threats were as real. He just wanted to get off. And I was right back where I started. I did what I had to in order to keep my secret. In order to protect Ronan too. He killed Blaine because of me, and there was no way I was ever going to rat him out to the syndicate.

  But my loyalty didn’t make it any easier to accept what was being doled out to me. So when Mack came along, she took me by surprise. Most of the other dancers at the club hated me.

  I had been on my own for so long that I forgot what it was like to have friends. Even though Emily and I used to be close, we drifted apart during the time I was with Blaine. Mack was the first real friend I’d had in so long. She reminded me so much of the girl that I used to be. Before Blaine, and before cancer, and Donny and every hard ball that life threw at me.

  I used to be strong like her. I used to feel like I could take on the world. But I certainly wasn’t strong when I met her. Every person has their limits, and I had finally reached mine. I was at my breaking point, and Mack could see that. She kept Donny away from me when I couldn’t take it anymore. And then she almost got killed because of him.

  Mack only came into this world because she was searching for her missing friend. I don’t think it was ever her intention to stay. But then she fell in love with Lachlan, and things got a little crazy after that. It turned out that not only was Donny betraying the syndicate, but so was one of the other dancers. She ended up taking Mack for a little joyride with a gun to her head and divulged some hard truths about the friend she’d been looking for.

  I know it hasn’t been an easy road for her, and I want to return the kindness that she showed to me when I needed it the most. But she hasn’t answered any of my texts, and I haven’t seen her at Slainte in a while either. Which is why I’m guessing Lachlan is now standing at my door, looking a little lost himself.

  The guy that I never would have guessed had a softer side apparently does. And it only comes out when he’s around M

ack.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask Lachlan. “Is Mack alright?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” he says. “Mind if I come in?”

  I nod and gesture him inside. It’s weird having him in my apartment. None of the guys have ever been here except Blaine.

  “Mack’s still having a bit of a rough time,” he says. “Dealing with everything. I was hoping ye might come visit her. I know your mother is sick…”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’d love to come see her, if she’s up for it.”

  “Grand,” he says. “I’ll have Ronan pick ye up this evening.”

  “Okay.”

  There’s a weird expression on Lachlan’s face. Like he wants to tell me something else. But he doesn’t. So I show him to the door, and then spend the entire day in Ma’s room, hoping for a lucid moment. It never comes.

  Ronan arrives at my door to pick me up just after six. He doesn’t say a word when I open it, but just stands there looking as stiff and uncomfortable around me as usual. Ronan always does whatever Lachlan tells him to, but I’m a little surprised he agreed to drive me tonight. He usually goes out of his way to avoid me, and I somewhat expected Rory or Conor to be the ones to show up in his place.

  “Hi, Ronan.” I smile weakly.

  He doesn’t respond. We walk to his car and he opens the door for me and then drives me in silence. I hate it. I don’t know why he doesn’t speak to me. He talks to everyone else. Even Mack. And as much as I hate to admit it that bothers the hell out of me.

  I alternate between staring at him and trying to keep my attention focused elsewhere. I know he feels me watching him. His hands twitch, but it’s the only obvious sign. He’s always edgy around me. And I’ve always been too much of a scaredy cat to call him out on it. My methods of dealing with his perpetual silence usually swing between acting completely irrational or avoiding it altogether.

  But today made me realize that I really don’t know the first thing about this situation. And I could just pretend it never happened, like we seem to do with everything else, but I don’t want to. The words bounce around my brain as I try to think about the best way to go about asking it. How does someone accuse another of stalking without sounding like a narcissistic asshole, exactly? I don’t know. So I decide to just go for it and blurt it out.

  “Have you been following me?”

  Ronan’s grip tightens on the wheel and his eyes are suddenly laser focused on the road. But there’s a flush creeping down his neck. This big, strong killer gets embarrassed when I talk to him. I’ve never understood it. He’s not like this with anybody else.

  He’s blunt and short and tells things like they are. With everyone but me. He can’t even seem to look at me most of the time. Like right now. I just asked him if he was following me and his only response is to drive faster.

  And yet I can’t help feeling like he’s silently judging me. Like I need to explain myself. So I make the situation even more uncomfortable and awkward by doing exactly that.

  “I’m not a junkie,” I tell him. “I only took ten of those pills. And only on days I worked. I’ve been tired, and stressed, and…”

  The words sound even lamer when I say them out loud. There is no excuse for taking them. My head drops into my hands and I groan. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore honestly. But it’s time to pick myself up and reel it back in.

  The car is silent and fraught with tension as we continue to drive. I have no more confessions or accusations to level at him, so I keep my mouth shut.

  When we pull up to Lachlan’s house, I have to admit I’m a little surprised. I’ve only ever been here once too, and that was when Ronan had to drop Mack off. Not many people know where Lachlan lives, so the fact that I’m one of them is just another reason for me to be nervous. Another reminder that the likelihood of them letting me go anywhere is not good.

  Ronan turns off the car and moves to get out, but I grab his arm and halt him.

  He looks at me, but doesn’t say a word.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “For looking out for me.”

  His eyes soften, and then he gets out, walking around to open my door for me. He unlocks Lachlan’s front door and gestures me inside. I know he won’t be following, so I give him a little smile and then slip on through, leaving him behind in the cold.

  Conor is on the sofa, reading through a magazine, but glances up when I shut the door.

  “She’s in the bedroom,” he says.

  I nod and walk down the hall to find Mack nestled into Lachlan’s bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Hey.” I smile at her from the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”

  “Hey, Sash.” She gives me a weak smile. “Sure, I could use the company.”

  I sit down on the edge of the bed, and Mack leans back against the headboard. She still has a few bruises from her ordeal with Mandy and Donovan, but otherwise she appears healthy. She’s a beautiful girl. Petite and fiery. With dark hair and blue eyes like my own. The defeat weighs heavy in those eyes though. Her friend is gone, and Mack thinks she failed her. I would tell her that isn’t true, but the thing I know about guilt is that nothing anyone else says will alleviate it for you. She’ll have to come to that conclusion on her own.

  “How are you holding up?” I ask her.

  “Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me about you. How’s your mom?”

  I glance down at the bedspread, and Mack sighs. “I’m sorry, Sash. Things seem to suck for everyone right now.”

  I nod in silent agreement.

  “Well,” Mack says. “On the bright side, I guess you’ll never have to worry about Donny bothering you again.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat at the image of Ronan in that room with him. I knew what he did in that basement. Blaine used to tell me that he was missing a few screws. That he was all sorts of fucked up in the head and that he liked to kill people. I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t. But that’s what being a part of this life entails. Following the orders that come down the food chain. It doesn’t matter why or how. When the boss wants someone dead, they’re dead.

  I can’t feel sorry for the loss of Donovan. He could have screwed me and Ronan both with the information he held over us. And if he was actually loyal to the syndicate, he would have. But instead, he chose to exploit my loyalty. He knew somehow that I would protect Ronan. That I wouldn’t let Donny give him up and make him pay the price for his actions. Because Ronan killed Blaine for me. And Donovan being the opportunist that he was, chose to abuse that from every possible angle. Holding it over me and threatening me constantly to get what he wanted.

  But I never gave him my body. My mouth and my hand, but never my body. I think that’s the thing that pissed him off the most. In any case, I won’t miss seeing his face lurking around the club and waiting for his moments to strike.

  “I’m glad he’s gone,” I tell Mack.

  “Lach said that Ronan really made him suffer for what he did to you.”

  I blink up at her, and a million questions drift through my mind. But I can’t voice any of them out loud. Thinking about Ronan’s motives only gives me a splitting headache and an aching chest. Instead, I choose this moment to seize an opportunity of my own selfish desires.

  “Mack, I know things aren’t very good for you right now,” I begin. “And I know you’ve done a lot for me already…”

  “What is it Sash?” she asks. “Tell me. I’m feeling about as useless as a sack of potatoes right now, so if there’s something I can do to help…”

  “Well…” I hesitate. “It’s just that you have some obvious sway with Lachlan. And I was thinking maybe you could run something by him.”

  “Like what?”

  I look up at her and clear my throat. I’m nervous as hell, and I feel like a coward for asking this of her. But I worry that if I go to him directly he will just turn me down straight out of the gate.

  “He’s been good to me,” I preface my request. “And I want to do right by him. I’m really grateful for everything…”

  “Sash,” Mack interrupts. “Just spit it out, will you? It’s me. You can tell me anything.”

  I wring my hands together.

  “Look, my mother isn’t going to make it much longer. And when she goes, I’ll have nothing left here. I was sort of thinking about maybe leaving town. Going somewhere else, you know. Start fresh. I’d never say a word about anything.”

  Mack nods in understanding and gives me a weak smile. “I want to tell you that I won’t ask him. But only because I’m going to miss having you around. You’re the only one of the dancers who doesn’t hate my guts.”

  We both laugh, and it feels good.

  “So you will then?”

  “I will,” Mack agrees. “But I can’t make you any promises, Sash. Lach will probably have some stipulations.”

  “I know,” I tell her.

  I have a feeling Mack won’t be going anywhere either after the things she’s seen. But she doesn’t seem to mind so much. Her and Lachlan have something special. I almost envy her in that way as strange as it sounds. All I’ve ever wanted was to get out. But when I see the way Lachlan looks at her, I understand why she wants to stay.

  Mack tosses me a knowing glance and follows it up with a sigh. “How did a sweet girl like you get wrapped up in this world to begin with, Sash?”

  “I’m not sweet,” I deny. “And I thought I told you I dated one of these guys.”

  “Yeah.” Mack shrugs. “But you never talk about him. In fact, you kinda get all weird whenever I ask you about it.”

  I stare down at the quilt and try to steady my voice. I hate lying to her. But I have to. To protect Ronan.

  “His name was Blaine,” I tell her. “He was five years older than me, and I met him when I was nineteen. At the time, I was working in a diner that Niall’s sister owns. I didn’t know that it was mafia affiliated.”

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