Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

I swallow and try to look away.

  “I told ye you might not enjoy it,” he says. “But that is how punishment works, aye?”

  That is how punishment works, but when he reaches for my arm, my stomach churns. He grabs my hand and pulls it away from my groin. And then he’s touching me. I curl into myself and scramble back against the wall.

  “I don’t like that.”

  He grabs my leg and tries to pull me back, and when he stands up he has an erection. Vomit rises up my throat and then rage. His hand rubs between my legs, and I can’t control the rage. I buck against him and throw my head into his.

  He cries out in pain, but I do not care. I reach for the lamp from the bedside and crash it over his head. He backs away from me, his head bleeding and his eyes wide. He sees now. He sees the monster I am.

  He flees towards the front of the church, but my training won’t let him go. Neither will my rage. Alex said this place would help me. I don’t understand. He was supposed to help me.

  I chase after him, down the aisles while I shout out the same words.

  “You were supposed to help me!”

  He tries to leave. But I cannot let him. We are never to let an enemy escape with his life. I throw the lamp at the back of his head. He falls to the ground, and the rage finally consumes me. I cannot control myself any longer. I grasp the lamp in my hands and bring it down over his head.

  And I hit him again. And again. And again. Until there is nothing but red.

  It feels good.

  “You were supposed to help me.”

  I repeat those words, until there is nothing left of his face, and my voice is nothing more than a whisper. And then I curl into myself and wish more than anything that I knew what to do.

  I don’t know how long I sit there for.

  I only know that when I look up again, there is a woman standing over me with a trembling hand clutched over her mouth. Beside her, a boy my age is looking down at the blood around me. His eyes are wide, and his cheeks heated with embarrassment when they land on me.

  I glance down at myself and work out that I’m still half naked, covered in blood. I have no explanation to give them. So I say the only thing I can.

  “He was supposed to help me.”

  Sasha is in the kitchen and I’m at the table.

  I have a newspaper in my hands, but my eyes are on her. Watching her move around as she cooks. I don’t know what it is, but it smells good. And she keeps feeding the dog -Daisy- little scraps.

  I haven’t worked out what to do with her. I can’t stay at the house all the time. But I can’t let her leave. She believed me. She believed my lie so easily that it feels wrong. But when I watch her moving around my home, and smell her scent around me, I cannot be sorry.

  She is so beautiful.

  She looks over her shoulder and catches me staring. I look away, but before I do, she smiles.

  “It’s ready,” she says.

  A moment later, she’s pushing a plate in front of me. I stare at it too long, and Sasha looks worried.

  “It’s an omelet,” she says. “You like eggs, don’t you?”

  “I’ve never had them this way,” I admit.

  “Really?” she smiles again. “Well then you won’t be disappointed that it’s only cheese and veggies. You don’t have much in your fridge.”

  She sits down and starts to eat, and I bring the plate to my nose and sniff. Her fork clatters onto her plate, and when I glance up, she’s watching me with a strange expression. I tear my eyes away and take a tentative bite.

  “I haven’t poisoned you, Ronan,” she laughs. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I frown, and her face grows serious. “Did you really think I might have poisoned you?”

  I don’t like seeing her upset. And I made her that way. So I take a bite. And it’s good. I tell her so, and she relaxes again. I make a note to tell her the food is grand any time she cooks for me.

  “I’ll have Conor do some food shopping today,” I tell her. “You can make a list if you’d like.”

  “Okay,” she agrees.

  We eat in silence, and I finish before her. When I look up at her she seems happy. And I think maybe having her here with me will be okay. But that changes when she asks her next question and reminds me of the things I can never have.

  “Tell me about your childhood,” she says softly.

  “I lived with Crow,” I answer.

  She waits for more, but I don’t know what else to say.

  “No, before that.”

  I shift in my seat and focus my attention on Daisy, who’s sitting on my foot again. “Why?”

  “Because I want to know you, Ronan. Is that okay?”

  I don’t answer her. A flood of images come back to me, but I don’t know how to sort them into words. I don’t think I could even if I tried. I’ve tried with Crow. Sometimes I’ve been able to explain things. But even he doesn’t know everything.

  Sasha reaches across the table and grabs my hand. I stare at her fingers, observing how small they are against my own. How soft she is compared to my skin. Like silk.

  “It’s okay, Ronan,” she says. “You don’t need to tell me right now.”

  She takes our plates to the sink and then comes back a moment later.

  “Hey, you can get prescriptions, right?”

  “Aye,” I answer, relieved that I can actually do something she asks.

  She pulls out a piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to me. I don’t recognize the name of what she’s scribbled down, and I worry that something might be wrong with her.

  “Can you get me that?” she asks.

  I nod, but already I’m making other plans. I don’t want anything happening to Sasha. So I’ll get her a prescription, but I’ll bring her a doctor too.

  27

  SASHA

  WHEN I FINISH with my shower, Ronan shows me to the room where Conor stored all of my belongings. It’s strange, having them in his house. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my apartment.

  It’s a silly thought, but that dingy little box was the place where I grew up. The place where I had some of my best memories. I wonder if Ronan would take me back there one last time. Probably not. He says it isn’t safe, and I doubt he would understand the emotional connection I had to it.

  As I knot my towel around my chest, I bend over to take a peek in one of the boxes that holds my clothes. But when I do, I notice Ronan’s dress shoes behind me in the doorway. I crane my neck to look at him and catch him staring at my ass.

  I smile.

  Sometimes he seems so unsure of himself, but right now he’s as close to a man as any other. He catches me staring and his eyes move to the blue thong dangling between my fingers.

  “You should wear the black ones,” he says. “With the red bows.”

  I’m pretty sure my mouth is open, but there’s nothing coming out of it. I don’t know whether to be flattered or think he’s totally nuts for knowing what all of my underthings look like.

  “I’ll do that,” is the only thing I can think to say.

  “The doctor will be here in ten minutes,” he adds.

  His voice is back to being formal, and it makes me want to ask if he will ever feel comfortable around me. But before I get a chance, he disappears down the hallway.

  I dress in a pair of yoga pants and an off the shoulder sweatshirt and braid my hair. It isn’t until I look in the mirror that I realize that though Ronan may not be comfortable with me, I am with him. He’s seen me in pretty sorry shape a few times now. I don’t feel the need to dress up to impress him. But a part of me does wonder how his hands would feel roaming over the tight material of my leggings and up beneath the loose material of the sweatshirt.

  When I hear the front door shut, I walk down the hall and wonder if the doctor can prescribe me something for my obvious insanity. Because I seem to be forgetting that this situation is only temporary, and I don’t have the luxury of fantasizing about Ronan like t
hat.

  In the parlor, I stop and cover my mouth to stifle a laugh when I catch Ronan carting the Corgi up the stairs beneath his arm while she tries to lick at his face.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He sets her down at the top landing and smooths out his suit.

  “Her legs are too wee for the stairs,” he explains as he points at the offending limbs. “She can’t get down them to go outside.”

  I laugh and he stares at me in confusion.

  “She’s got you wrapped around her little paws,” I tell him.

  A knock sounds at the door, and Ronan is grateful for the interruption. On the other side is a female doctor which surprises and relieves me. I half expected the same guy that tended to Ronan after the fights to show up here.

  “Sasha, I presume?” the doctor walks up the steps and holds out her hand.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Is there somewhere we can speak in private?” she asks.

  I look at Ronan, and he’s already edging towards the door. “Conor’s just outside,” he says. “I’ll be back after.”

  After what, he doesn’t say, but I presume it’s probably mafia business.

  The doctor takes a seat on the sofa and pulls out a notepad with the name of birth control I requested scribbled on it. She goes through a whole host of routine questions about my health and dates of last exams and I’m suddenly grateful Ronan did leave. I don’t think he could have handled this part.

  “Have you taken this medication before?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I tell her.

  “Okay and did you have any issues with it?”

  “Not that I can remember.”

  “Great, well unless you have any other questions for me, I’d be happy to write you a prescription.”

  “Perfect.” I smile and wait for her to write the prescription. But instead, she reaches inside of her bag and pulls out a cup.

  “We just need to do a routine pregnancy test first,” she says.

  “Oh.” I swallow down my nerves and take the cup with trembling fingers. “Right.”

  I’d forgotten about this part. The last time I was on birth control was when I was with Blaine. I don’t know how many times Ronan has finished inside of me now, completely unprotected. But I won’t soon forget the panic on his face when I mentioned the possibility of getting pregnant.

  As I walk down the hall to the bathroom and go through the process, I tell myself it’s not even possible. I mean, it was only a few times. And he did use a condom once. But then I try to count the dates in my head, and I start having a mini panic attack.

  I haven’t been eating properly, and I’ve been a jittery stress head. I think I did miss my period last month, but now I’m not really sure. By the time I get back to the doctor, I’m a nervous wreck and she reads it on my face.

  “I’ll do it right here,” she says, going about the process.

  I don’t watch. I sit down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. I was supposed to be leaving. If things had gone to plan, I’d already have been gone. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Because I had a plan. A light at the end of the tunnel. But before the doctor even says the words, I know it’s coming. And then she confirms it with her words, and everything swirls around me.

  I’m pregnant.

  With Ronan’s child. And if he finds out there’s a good chance he’ll either freak the fuck out or imprison me in this life forever. I don’t like either side of that coin toss.

  The doctor reaches out and gently squeezes my shoulder.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I reply with a jerky nod. “But this stays between us, right?”

  “Of course,” she says. “I’d be happy to schedule you an appointment in my office if…”

  “That’s okay.” I rush to stand up and almost fall over in the process. “I’ll make one later. I can do that, right?”

  “Of course,” she says. “But I wouldn’t put it off too long. You’ll need a blood test and…”

  “Okay,” I cut her off.

  I know I’m being rude, but I just want that pregnancy test gone. She walks to the kitchen and cleans up and I pace the length of the dining room, staring out the window. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  Oh God, what the hell am I going to do?

  I don’t even wait for the doctor to leave before I shuffle down the hall to my room and scramble through my purse for my cell phone. But it isn’t there. And after digging through the rest of the boxes, I can’t find it anywhere.

  A throat clears behind me, and I spin around to find Ronan in the door frame.

  “All good?” he asks.

  His gaze is probing, his voice tense. And it almost makes me want to tell him. Almost. But then there’s that boyish innocence in his eyes. God, how can one man be so contradictory? He’s a killer, a cold-blooded murderer for the mafia, and yet he can be so innocent sometimes.

  “Where’s my phone?” I ask.

  My question makes his eyes turn down, which puts me on guard.

  “I had to get rid of it,” he answers. “It wasn’t safe.”

  I don’t even have the energy for that argument, so instead I ask for his. When he hesitates again, I get irritated.

  “I need to call Mack,” I snap. “Is that alright? Or can you have her come over? I want to see her.”

  He still isn’t moving, or responding, and I feel as though I need to explain further for some reason. Like he can see right through me.

  “I didn’t get to see her after the wedding,” I tell him. “She’ll think I just left town without saying goodbye.”

  Finally, my words seem to find a crack in his armor. “I’ll sort something out,” he says.

  28

  RONAN

  “ARE you going to kidnap and kill me?” Mack asks from the passenger seat.

  My grip squeezes the wheel as I keep my eyes fixed on the road.

  “If that were the case, do ye think I’d answer that question honestly?”

  “Well, Ronan,” she says. “Yes, I actually think you would. You’re weird like that. I don’t think you really have it in you to tell a lie.”

  Her words feel like an accusation though I know it’s just Mack’s personality. She doesn’t know how wrong she is in this case though.

  “So what’s with all of the secrecy?” she asks. “I don’t like hiding things from Lach. We’re not doing that stuff anymore. So unless you give me a good reason…”

  I glance at her across the car and I know she’s right. She’ll tell Crow, and he’ll rip me a new one even though he was in the same situation not too long ago.

  “I needed Sasha to stay a little longer,” I tell her.

  Mack stares at me and the car is silent for a long pause before she bursts into laughter. “Oh God, Ronan. What did you do?”

  “Why does it matter?” I reply. “You wanted her to stay.”

  “Of course I did,” Mack answers. “But not through coercion, or kidnapping, or whatever it is you’ve drummed up.”

  “There are people that might have seen her with me,” I tell her. That part isn’t really a lie. Even though I would have noticed. And I would have taken them out the first chance I got. “I just need her to stay a little longer.”

  “Right,” Mack says. “And she thinks she’s in danger, meanwhile. That’s a great plan you’ve got there, Ronan.”

  I slam my lips shut and regret my decision to go get Mack.

  “You know she’s my friend too,” she says.

  “Aye. So you should want what’s best for her.”

  “Oh please,” she laughs. “Ronan, I’ll give you a week to come clean. That’s all you’re getting.”

  “Two,” I bargain.

  Mack is quiet again for a moment and then sighs. “You need to tell her how you feel. If you care about her, then she needs to know that. She’s not a mind reader. And the only way she’ll ever decide to stay on her own is if you give her a damn good re
ason to.”

  I mull over her words as I park the car on the street and leave it idling. Conor is standing at the front door, watching over the house.

  Before Mack gets out, she twists in her seat to look at me. “Two weeks Ronan. And I want Dunkies delivered every morning.”

  “Fine,” I grumble.

  “But it has to be decaf,” she adds. “Or else Lach will go nuts. He doesn’t want me drinking so much caffeine these days.”

  I nod in concession, but Mack just continues.

  “And I want choices. I’m talking lots of donuts, capiche? I don’t want to get bored with the selection.”

  I scowl at her and she smiles. And then she pokes me in the chest and skips up the front stairs to the house.

  I’m still thinking about her words when Crow texts me and asks me where the hell I am. He’s got a lead on Andrei, and we’re going to follow it up together.

  29

  SASHA

  WHEN MACK COMES TROTTING into the parlor with a happy expression on her face, it dies off quickly when she sees the expression on mine.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  I grab her by the arm and yank her down the hall to Ronan’s room.

  “Where is he?”

  “He had to go to Slainte,” she answers, then pokes around the room in curiosity. “So this is where the Reaper lays his head at night, huh? Go figure. This place has absolutely zero personality.”

  “Ronan has plenty of personality,” I snap.

  Mack frowns at me and I scrub my hands over my face in frustration. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I know it was a joke. I’m just freaking out right now.”

  Mack sits down on the bed, her voice calm and her words careful. “And why is that?”

  “Because,” I whisper hiss as I point to my stomach. “He put a bun in my oven.”

  Mack blinks. And then blinks again. I think she’s in more shock than I am.

  “Mack?”

  “Right.” She jumps up on her feet and tries to comfort me with an awkward hand pat on the shoulder. “I honestly have no frigging clue what to say, Sash. I had no idea Ronan actually banged you. Damn. That’s so weird. I can’t even imagine…”