by A. Zavarelli
“I didn’t know you worked for Niall’s sister,” Mack says. “Lach has mentioned that place, but he’s never taken me there.”
“They mostly only go there for breakfast,” I explain. “Late at night, when they’ve had a rough night or whatever. I was working there part time while I took night classes. I worked the day shift, so it was only by chance that I ever even saw them. I was filling in for one of the other waitresses.”
“What luck, huh?” Mack teases.
“Wrong place, wrong time,” I reply. “The typical bullshit. That was the first time I saw Niall. He sat at the head of the table, and the way people looked at him, I knew then. His sister introduced me and had me help with drinks and food. I noticed Blaine staring at me, but I had my eye on someone else.”
Mack smiles. “Let me guess. Brown eyes. Tall. Broody as hell?”
“That would be the one,” I laugh. “He didn’t talk to me, so I figured he wasn’t interested. And in all honesty, I knew I should stay far away from guys like that anyway.”
“Our stories are starting to sound eerily similar,” Mack notes.
“Yeah, well, Blaine noticed me. And he didn’t like taking no for an answer. He kept coming back to the diner after that. He was so persistent that I couldn’t help being a little flattered. He brought me these crazy over the top gifts that cost more than our entire month’s rent. I didn’t really know what was happening. But eventually, I agreed to go out with him.”
“That sounds sort of sweet,” Mack says. “But I’ve got a feeling it wasn’t.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I tell her. “It was just supposed to be one date. A harmless dinner. But Blaine kept pushing me for more. I knew right away he wasn’t what I was looking for. I tried to let him down easy.”
Silence falls over the room, and I can’t find the energy to relay the rest of the story. The guilt and the manipulation. The threats and the games. I never want to think about it again.
“I think I can guess the rest of it,” Mack says gently.
“He got bored of me eventually and left town,” I lie. “And I thought I could get my life back. But then my Ma got sick. And we didn’t have insurance. I had no idea how to make the kind of money that I needed to take care of her. One night, Niall was in the diner. His sister had mentioned what was going on with me, thinking he might be able to help. And he offered for me to come and work at the club. He said he would help me out until Blaine came back. But obviously, he never did. And so now, here I am.”
“Wow, Sash.” Mack groans. “That really didn’t help at all.”
“How’s that?” I ask.
“Your story is just as depressing as mine.”
We both laugh again, and then a few tears leak out of my eyes. I can’t tell if they are happy or sad, but I’m glad that Mack is here with me.
“I’ll talk to Lachlan,” she says. “And I give you my word, I’ll do everything in my power to convince him.”
6
RONAN
“ONE MORE MINUTE.” Farrell glances at his watch.
I grip the edges of the tub and count the seconds in my head. Every muscle in my body burns from the cold.
“Again,” Coyne repeats.
I rattle off the ingredients for the bombs they taught us how to make. These parts come easily to me. The lists. Remembering things. I can do that. When the lady in the room used to teach us things, she always said I had good attention to detail.
Farrell nods in approval and then points at the weapon hanging over his shoulder. I list off the steps to assemble it and then repeat them in reverse.
“Time’s up,” he calls out.
I jolt out of the ice bath and nearly collapse.
“Keep moving,” Coyne says.
My movements are clumsy and awkward. But I keep at it.
“Ye did well,” Farrell says. “Now to the pit.”
I freeze in place and shake my head.
“And for that ye can enjoy an extra day’s accommodation in there.”
His words force me into action again.
I walk with Coyne in front of me and Farrell follows behind. They open up the door to the pit, and though my body wants to hesitate, my mind is already following orders. Before I climb down inside they give me another pill. And then they lock me in, sacrificing me to the blackness.
It isn’t the dark that I’m not keen on. I’ve grown accustomed to living in the darkness. It’s the uncertainty of what will come with it this time. Every month, I progress to a new stage of training. A new phase of uncertainty. And every visit to the pit can only end one way.
They’ll send another man down. Another man I have to kill. I can’t see them, and they can’t see me. But we both have only one option. Kill or be killed. I always do the killing.
And then they leave them with me. Sometimes for days. The rats come out. And the bugs. And the smell. But that isn’t even the worst of it. It’s the sound I don’t like. The ones I always hear.
The speakers come on, and I cover my ears before it begins. But it makes no difference. I still hear it anyway.
The screaming. An endless soundtrack of wailing. Tortured sobs. Crying babies. My heart is beating too hard. Too fast. It’s going to explode. And then it turns to ringing.
I wake to the sound of my phone and something wet against my cheek. When I open my eyes, I’m met with big brown ones. The dog I still haven’t worked out what to do with.
“What are ye after?” I grunt.
She head-butts my cheek and then barks. I shove it away and reach for my phone, only to have it barge in from the other side. She wiggles her arse and hops back and forth before flopping onto her back and flashing her belly at me.
The phone rings again and I groan as I bring it to my ear.
“Aye?”
“Fitzy,” Crow chirps from the other end of the line. “Did I wake ye?”
“You did.”
The dog barks again and I try to quiet her.
“What the hell is that?” Crow asks.
“It’s a bleeding dog,” I tell him. “What does it sound like?”
“When did you get a dog?”
“Did ye have a reason for this call?” I grumble. “Or did ye just ring to give me an inquisition?”
“Open your front door,” is his reply.
The line goes dead and I tug on a pair of track pants and a tee shirt. The dog follows me to the door and starts to have a go at Crow when he steps inside.
“What sort of dog is that?” he tilts his head to the side to examine her. “Is there something wrong with its wee legs?”
“Conor thinks it’s a Corgi,” I tell him. “Google said their legs are supposed to be wee. I looked it up.”
“What the hell are ye doing with it?” he asks.
“It was at Donny’s flat.”
“So ye decided to keep it? Do you even know what to do with a bloody dog?”
“I haven’t a clue,” I admit. “That’s why Conor feeds it.”
“Well it looks like it’s hungry now,” Crow points out.
“Is that why she’s carrying on like that?”
He shrugs. “What the hell do I know about dogs?”
I walk to the kitchen and grab the bag of dog food off the counter, scanning the label on the back. “It doesn’t say how much to give her.”
“Ah Jaysus, Fitz.” Crow laughs. “I don’t know how ye manage to keep yourself alive let alone a bloody animal.”
He grabs the bag and fills the dish on the floor and then makes himself comfortable at my kitchen table. I don’t have much in the way of furniture, but it serves a purpose. I mainly only use the place to sleep if I’m lucky. Though I’ve been spending most of the last couple of months on Crow’s sofa while I watched over Mack.
“I spoke to Niall this morning,” Crow says, getting straight down to business. He knows I’ve got no patience for small talk.
“Aye, and what did he say?”
“I reckon we came up with a solution f
or this whole mess. One that will get me out of hot water and save Mack from his wrath.”
I’m not fond of the tone of his voice. I’ve known Crow long enough to know when he wants something from me. And I’ve already worked out that this is one of those times. He got himself into this hot water by allowing Mack into the club. I told him the girl was up to no good from the get go. And now his promotion within the syndicate is at risk.
“You should throw her to the wolves, far as I’m concerned,” I tell him.
“You don’t mean that.” Crow stares at me in disappointment. He isn’t the only one. I’m used to disappointing others. But I hate it when they look at me like that. “You can understand why she did what she did.”
He has a point, but I don’t let onto it. She put him in danger. She put all of us in danger with her lies. I have no time for liars.
“Look,” Crow says. “There’s still a chance that Niall might promote me. He said it isn’t off the table.”
“Ye’re the best man for the job,” I tell him. And I mean it. I don’t lie.
Crow taps his fingers against his leg, a sure sign he’s nervous. I can always tell. He’s like a brother to me. Or at least that’s what he says. I don’t know what having a brother is like, but I imagine if I did, it would be like this.
“I can’t do this without you, Ronan,” he says. “If I’m to be promoted, you’d have to take on more responsibility as well. Are ye following me?”
I nod, but don’t reply.
He wants me to be his second in command. His left hand. I don’t mind, I’ve been doing it all along anyhow. But with him moving up the food chain that means I would too. Things wouldn’t be the same as they are now. He knows I’m not keen on things changing, generally. Only, this time I don’t mind so much.
“I’ve been giving that some thought,” I tell him.
“Have ye?”
“I had it in my head that maybe…” I clear my throat. “Maybe I could do some other things. Things besides just sorting out the clients in the basement.”
I stare at the table and don’t look at Crow. The room is quiet for a pause, and I know he’s thinking over what I said. Trying to work out my motives. I don’t really understand them myself. I’ve only ever wanted to follow his orders. That’s what I’m good at. But lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe if I take on some more responsibility, that it would help. That I could be worthy of something. Or someone.
“All ye ever had to do was say so,” Crow says finally. “If ye want more responsibility, I’m happy to give it to you. You’ve earned it, Fitz. But I just have to ask if ye’re sure that ye’re ready for such a thing.”
“I’ll still have your back,” I assure him. “That isn’t going to change, no matter the title.”
“I know, Fitz,” he says. “And I have a big ask for ye right now.”
“I had a feeling.”
“Niall’s worked out an offer with the Russians. They want three of our lads to take a fall at the fights.”
“You can’t be serious.”
That’s worse than death. Taking a beat down like that. All for a woman. I’ve never seen Crow do any such thing for anyone other than his mates. And now I know, he’s definitely gone completely mad.
“I am serious,” Crow answers. “Rory and myself have already agreed. I just need one more.”
I look up at him and wonder for the thousandth time in the last two months if Mack’s still going to ruin him in the end. After everything he’s done for her. Sacrificed for her. I’ve never seen him so out of sorts. He’s putting everything on the line for that woman. It’s completely fecking stupid and also a little too relatable.
“You want me to take a fall for Mack?” I clarify.
“For me,” Crow answers.
He’s not doing himself any favors by using that on me. He knows I owe him everything. But he’s never chosen to throw it in my face before.
“You can say no,” he says quietly. “I’d understand.”
“No, ye wouldn’t.”
“I don’t want ye to do it out of guilt,” he replies. “I know how ye are with these things. They have to be on your terms. I don’t want to put ye in a situation that’s going to bring up bad feelings for you, Ronan. If you say no, I’ll understand.”
Silence falls between us, and I try to work out my feelings about this whole situation. It isn’t an easy task for me. I understand risk and loyalty. I understand doing something mad for someone. Crow doesn’t think I can, but I do. He isn’t clued in on what I did for Sasha. What I would do again even if it meant getting caught.
Now he’s here, asking me for a favor. My best mate. There’s no way I could refuse him, even if I had reason to. Which I don’t.
“Just tell me when to show up,” I say. “Ye know I’ll be there.”
Crow grins and relief passes over his face. He wouldn’t let on to it, but this means a great deal to him.
“Are ye certain you’ll be able to handle it?” he asks again. “I can’t have ye going nuts and killing one of the pricks in the middle of the fight.”
“I can handle it,” I tell him with certainty. “The pain never bothers me.”
Crow frowns and gets up to leave, but pauses at the door. When he glances back at me, his face is solemn.
“I can’t tell you what this means to me, Ronan. Thank you.”
7
SASHA
I’M SITTING on mom’s bed, watching her favorite true crime shows. I narrate them for her since she isn’t really able to see them for herself. I don’t know if she can even hear me, but I like to tell her who I think did it and add my own reasons to their motive.
Just like we used to do.
Those days are never going to happen again. She still hasn’t woken. It’s been two days. Her skin is growing more pallid by the hour, and I know the end is coming soon.
I’m angry with her. I’m angry that she decided to give up, even though that isn’t fair. I want her to fight. I want to be selfish and demand that she stay a little longer. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. The medication she’s on makes her sleep all the time, and I worry that she’ll go before I get a chance to say anything at all. Emily’s flying back home in two days. It’s all becoming too real.
Amy said she would taper off the dosage of her medication before she progresses to the point of no return. It still doesn’t comfort me. Because getting that chance doesn’t change the words that won’t come. What am I going to say to her? How do you tell someone you love so much goodbye?
My phone beeps from the dresser beside me, and I consider ignoring it. Nobody ever texts me unless it’s work. One of the other dancers probably called in sick. I don’t feel like working tonight. But I don’t feel like sitting in this house and watching my mother die either. I’m not spoiled for choices, so I pick up the phone.
I’m surprised to see it’s Mack. After one glance at her message, I’m up and out the door before I can even give it any thought. I don’t know where I’m going. The only thing I know is that I need to get to him.
By the time Rory and Conor’s cars pull up to Lachlan’s house, I’ve nearly worn a hole in the pavement from my pacing.
Mack jumps out of one car, barking out instructions as Michael and Rory carry Lachlan up the stairs.
“Where is he?” I demand.
“Conor’s helping him,” Mack says, pointing at the other car.
I rush over to help, and the sight of Ronan lying in the backseat with his face beaten makes me irrationally angry.
“How could you let him do this?” I yell at Conor. “He needs to see a doctor.”
“The doctor cleared him to come home,” Conor answers. “And there’s another on the way. And for the record, I don’t have any say over what Ronan or Lachlan does.”
Rory appears at my side a moment later, giving me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Hey, Sash. He’s going to be just fine, okay? Now step aside so we can get him in the house.”
I
do as he says, watching as they lift his limp body up into their arms. I feel like I should be doing something. Helping somehow. Ronan’s always been so strong, I never imagined seeing him like this. I never imagined anything could ever actually hurt him. That he’d ever let anyone close enough to.
The guys carry him inside and I’m hot on their heels.
They heave Ronan onto the sofa and then Rory gives Conor some instructions while I walk into the kitchen and grab a wet cloth. When I come back out Rory is gone and only Conor is sitting in the parlor.
I kneel down beside Ronan and wipe away the blood on his face when Conor hovers over me with a nervous expression.
“I’m not so sure you should be doing that,” Conor says. “He went sort of nuts at the fight and they had to sedate him after. He said not to let anyone touch him. He was very, very clear about that.”
“Well I’m not anyone,” I argue. “And I don’t care what the stubborn bastard said. I’m cleaning him up.”
Conor remains quiet while I continue to do just that, but it’s obvious he doesn’t like it. There isn’t a single part of me that cares what he thinks. I know Ronan is his superior. He gives out instructions, and Conor has to follow them. That’s the way it works in the mob. But I’m not one of their lackeys, and I’m sure as hell not going to follow a ridiculous order at a time like this.
Ronan was there for me when I needed him. And as distant and strained as our relations are right now that’s not going to stop me from being there for him too.
He has a cut just above his eyebrow that’s been packed with some sort of salve, but there’s still blood trickling out of the wound. I wipe away what I can and then check his head and neck.
“The doctor will be here soon,” Conor offers in another effort to get me to stop.
I ignore him and sit down beside Ronan on the sofa while we wait, watching his chest rise and fall in an even and steady rhythm. It reassures me, at least a little, that he’s going to be okay. When the doctor finally does come, he tends to Lachlan first, which only serves to irritate me further.
