by A. Zavarelli
Conor follows me into the building and we keep a safe distance, stopping on every landing to listen to his footsteps above us. I’m not at all surprised when he stops on Sasha’s floor and turns. His footsteps grow distant as he walks towards her apartment, and that’s when we rush him.
Just as he’s opening up the door, I hit him from behind, holding him in front of me as a shield. But when the door swings open, the only other man inside is taken by surprise. He raises his gun, but my weapon has already discharged and lodged a bullet in his head before he even gets off a shot.
The lad in my arms is shaking now, pissing himself with fear. And I almost feel bad for what I’ll have to do to the young one to get information out of him. Until my gaze swings to the far end of the room, where a girl who looks familiar is cuffed to the radiator.
She’s beaten pretty badly and already has a few slashes over her body that no doubt came from Andrei. He likes to play with his toys before he finally kills them. It’s a long process, and I have to wonder how long he’s been toying with her for. Her face is so swollen I can’t place where I’ve seen her before. But Conor knows. He rushes towards her and kneels down to help her.
“Scarlett?” he whispers. “Is that you?”
She makes a sound somewhere between a moan and agreement.
“She’s handcuffed,” he says, glancing back to me. “Can you pick the lock?”
“Aye,” I tell him. “I could. Or ye could probably just grab the keys from the dead arsehole on the floor just there.”
Conor blinks and then scurries over to the body as I check the hallway and then pull the young lad across the room. Once Conor’s got the cuffs off Scarlett’s hands, I gesture for them and lock them into place on their new prisoner. I can’t torture him here, because I don’t have any of my tools or the things I’d need to keep him quiet. Not to mention that if two of Andrei’s men are here, there are bound to be more on the way. And since I can’t be two places at once, I’ll have to make do.
“Take her down to the car,” I tell Conor, tossing him the keys. “And then meet me at the rear fire exit door.”
“Okay.” He nods and helps Scarlett to her feet.
She looks at me, and I feel a stab of something in my gut at the obvious trauma she’s been through.
“Did this lad hurt ye?” I ask her before she goes.
Her eyes move over him, and there’s no fear there. She just nods, like she’s seen men such as him a thousand times over. She knows she’s signing his death warrant, but doesn’t care.
“Conor will take care of ye,” I tell her. “Nobody else is going to hurt ye now.”
“I know,” she answers. And before she goes, she adds, “make him suffer.”
When Conor showed up at Slainte with my prisoner in tow, I knew it’d only be a matter of time before Crow came round.
I don’t even bother asking him how the hell he knew where I was watching the apartment from. He sits down beside me in the vacant building across the street and whips out a pair of binoculars.
“Any movement?” he asks.
“Not as of yet,” is my reply. “But they’ll come calling soon enough. Andrei won’t let a good woman go to waste.”
“Ye should have rang me,” he says. “You don’t fecking listen, Fitz.”
I shrug and the room around us goes silent for a pause.
“How’s the girl?”
Crow sighs. This whole situation is only adding to his headache, I’m sure. That girl was a mate of Macks, but she isn’t under our employ. And she’s also now a witness to a murder. It’s a complication for him. Even if I were to tell him not to worry about her, that I trusted her to keep her mouth shut, that isn’t the way it works.
“Rory’s going to keep an eye on her for a bit,” Crow answers. “But Mack doesn’t know that.”
“She won’t hear it from me,” I tell him.
He nods and sets down the binoculars after scanning the street, kicking back in his chair.
“Seems Rory fancies her anyway,” Crow notes. “But she wouldn’t give him the time of day. He was all over the babysitting gig when I mentioned it.”
“Aye,” I agree. “Glad I don’t have to do it.”
“You’ve got your own woman to worry about, Fitz,” he says. “What’s the craic with you and Sasha?”
I ignore him because it’s none of his business. Crow is always suspicious of the dancers, but I think he’s been even more so with Sasha because of what happened with Blaine. Regardless of what her reasons for lying were, Crow will still probably always be suspicious of her. But I know Sasha. I’ve been watching her for three long years. Wanting her. Learning about her. I know everything there is to know about her, from how well she sleeps to the type of food she likes to eat.
A man doesn’t get to know these things about a person without coming to some conclusions of his own. Sasha is as loyal as they come. I always suspected that Blaine was threatening her somehow. Manipulating her. But without her coming clean about it, there wasn’t anything I could do about that either. Until I did. Until I saw it firsthand.
I don’t expect Crow to ever understand that. So he can keep his opinions to himself for all I care.
“Why don’t ye make an honest woman out of her, Fitz?”
I glance over at him, expecting sarcasm on his face. But it isn’t there. He’s serious.
“I don’t know if she’d have me,” I answer him honestly.
“Well there’s only one way to find out,” he says. “Isn’t there? Do ye honestly believe you can just let her walk away? Because I don’t think ye can.”
He’s right, and we both know he’s right. So I just nod.
And then I catch movement on the street. I use the scope of my rifle to have a look, and Crow follows suit with the binoculars.
“Looks like we’ve got a couple more bites,” he says as we stand up. “Hope ye’re wide awake, Fitzy. Going to be a long night for the infamous reaper.”
34
SASHA
RORY’S PACING back and forth through Ronan’s house, on edge after the phone call he took earlier. He keeps glancing at the door, so I know he’s expecting someone, but I don’t ask him who it is.
Rory’s always been respectful towards me, but being that he didn’t hang out much in the VIP lounge at Slainte, I don’t know him very well. It’s strange to have him watching over me, but one look at the guy and it’s clear why Ronan picked him.
He’s ripped as all get out. A large, solid frame that I know frequently does some major damage at the underground fights. He’s a boxer through and through. Rough around the edges but has a sense of humor too. He’s always cracking jokes and messing around. So to see him serious makes me a little edgy.
“What’s going on?” I finally cave in and ask.
Before he can answer, Conor opens the front door. He ushers in a girl who someone obviously used as a punching bag, and a nervous tremor runs up my spine when I get a good look at her. It takes me a minute, but I recognize her as Mack’s friend. Scarlett.
Before I even get a chance to offer her some help and ask who the hell I’ve got to murder, Rory is at her side. His hands are twitching, and it’s obvious he wants to touch her, but he keeps himself in check. Barely.
“The doc is on his way,” he tells her. “Sasha can get you some clothes. Tell me what you need. A shower? Pain killers? Name it, sweetheart.”
She waves her hand at him dismissively and tries to smirk, but it’s obvious that it’s painful for her to even attempt it.
“Jaysus,” Rory mutters. “I’m going to torture the motherfuckers who did this to you.”
Scarlett tilts her chin up and puts on a brave face. She might be fooling the guys, but I recognize the exhaustion in her eyes. It’s the same expression I wore on my face every day that I had to deal with Blaine.
“Just go, Rory,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. Or maybe not. I guess whatever you decide being that you took the choice from me.”
“It’s for your protection,” he tells her in a soft voice.
His fingers brush over her arm and she shrugs him off, her eyes meeting mine.
“Would you mind giving me a hand?” she asks. “I need to get out of these clothes. And a shower does sound good.”
“Of course.”
I walk over and join her and Rory frowns when I lead her away from him. He’s wearing a helpless expression on his face, but it doesn’t last long. It’s quickly replaced by determination. It doesn’t surprise me in the least. These guys live by a code, and I don’t feel the slightest bit sorry for whoever’s about to befall their wrath tonight.
I help Scarlett into the bathroom and out of her mangled dress. Her entire body is covered in bruises, and there are some deep cuts across her arms and chest. I know it’s a stupid question, but it’s the first one out of my mouth anyway.
“Jesus, honey, are you okay?”
She tries to shrug, but winces again. “I’ve been through worse.”
“God,” I mutter as I walk to the shower and turn it on for her. “I’d kill them myself if I could.”
“Looks like we’ve got a few Irishmen on the job already,” Scarlett quips. “Although I suspect they have ulterior motives.”
“What do you mean?”
She blinks at me, and doesn’t even try to bullshit me, which is nice for a change. “It’s you they’re after, dollface.”
“What?”
I reach for the counter to keep my balance. “How do you know that?”
“Because I was in your old apartment,” she says. “And they were grilling me about you.”
“Oh my god.” I throw a hand over my mouth and barely make it to the toilet before I vomit.
Scarlett just watches like she sees this sort of thing every day. She’s so blunt that I don’t really know what to make of her.
“Sorry,” I groan.
“Pregnant?” she asks.
My eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell anyone. Just like I wouldn’t tell those dickheads anything about you. Not that I know anything, anyway.”
“I didn’t know how bad it was,” I admit. “I just thought I had to stay off the streets and out of the club and I’d be okay. But now they’re torturing people, because of me?”
“It’s not because of you,” she tells me. “But you already know that. Doll, the quicker you learn that women are nothing but pawns in this male dominated world, the better off you’ll be.”
“Trust me,” I tell her as I wipe my face. “I’m already very much aware of that.”
35
SASHA
BY THE TIME Ronan gets home, Scarlett is passed out on the sofa. I was admittedly drifting off too, unable to fight the exhaustion of the night any longer. But Rory was even more antsy than usual. Especially after he heard Scarlett tell the doc she needed a plan B pill.
Ronan walks right up to me and barely acknowledges Rory, except to say, “I saved one for you.”
Rory is up and out of the door like his pants are on fire, and I tell myself I don’t even want to know.
Ronan collapses beside me on the sofa and pulls me into his lap. He’s got Jameson on his breath as he kisses my face and smooths his large palms over my hair. Pretty soon, he’s made short work of my shorts and tee shirt, and he’s carrying me down the hall to his bedroom.
He fucks me like crazy into the bed and then collapses beside me when we’ve both finished. My hair falls over his chest and he plays with it, his gaze quiet and thoughtful.
“Stay with me,” he says quietly. “Be with me.”
My pulse explodes, flooding my entire body with warmth. I can’t stop touching him. Looking at him. I don’t know whether to blurt how much I love him or that I want more than anything to be with him. What comes out instead is, “I’m pregnant.”
And the moment is officially over.
Panic seeps into his features, washing away any progress we’ve made over the last few months. His eyes flick from my face to my stomach and back about ten times before his expression falls completely flat.
He doesn’t say anything. Not a word. He just gets up and dresses himself.
“Ronan?”
My voice is weak, and I can’t find the words to beg him to stay. So he walks right out the door.
36
SASHA
I GLANCE up at the clock again for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. I don’t know what to do at this point. But I’m going frigging nuts sitting in this house, just waiting for him to come back.
Scarlett’s still sleeping off her injuries on the sofa where she insisted she would stay. Rory tried to argue, and the end result was him hovering out the front of the house where he could keep his frustrations to himself.
I know he’s only just outside, parked on the street in his car. I could walk out there and demand he take me to Ronan.
Or, I could just leave altogether.
That second option no longer appeals to me. The thought of leaving him now feels like its own sort of prison. I like being here, in Ronan’s house. Sleeping next to him. Breathing him in when he holds me at night. I don’t know how I could give that up. Give him up.
We’ve come so far together. I don’t want to turn back now. But then I just keep thinking that he left me. Again. And maybe this time, he really doesn’t want to come back. Maybe it’s all been for nothing.
My new phone rings, startling me from my thoughts. When I see Mack’s name, I pick up without hesitation.
“Sash,” she yells through the phone. She sounds totally freaked. And Mack never sounds freaked. It puts me on edge too. “Something’s going down.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some feds just came and arrested Lachlan. I tried calling some of the other guys, but I can’t get through to them. Is Rory still there?”
“I don’t know.” I walk towards the door. “I’m going to check now.”
“Wait!” Mack says. “Grab your purse and some clothes. Tell Rory to bring you to the safe house. That’s where I am.”
“I can’t,” I argue. “I have to wait for Ronan to get back.”
“Sasha, this is protocol,” Mack insists. “He’ll know exactly where you are, and he’ll come to you when he can, okay? But for right now, we don’t know how many of the guys are in custody, and it isn’t safe to be in the house unprotected.”
I think of my baby, and even though I want to wait for Ronan, I know she’s right.
“Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll grab some clothes.”
“Be quick,” Mack urges. “I have a really weird feeling about all of this. I’ll stay on the phone with you until you’re in the car with Rory.”
“Alright, but I’ve got to grab Scarlett too.”
“Scarlett?” Mack echoes through the phone. “What’s she doing there?”
I don’t answer because I’m pretty sure if she doesn’t know already then I wasn’t supposed to say anything. But I really don’t care.
“I’ll let her tell you herself,” I answer. “When we get there.”
“Ugh,” Mack groans. “Fine, whatever. I’m going out of my mind, Sash. Just hurry.”
I pack quickly, and Mack repeats the evening’s events to me while I do. She explains how Lachlan had just come home from the club when the feds started banging down the door. It was odd timing, like they intentionally wanted him to be away from the others so he couldn’t warn them.
“You haven’t heard anything from Ronan?” I ask again. “I’ve texted him and he won’t respond.”
“No, Sash,” she answers. “I’m sorry. But if anyone knows how to evade these guys, it’s Ronan. I don’t think you have to worry about him. We’ll figure out what’s going on.”
Her words do nothing to comfort me, so I focus on the task at hand. I rouse Scarlett from her sleep and explain that we have to leave. To my amazement, she jumps up without delay. And it occurs to me this girl’s natural fight or flight instinct
s are kicking in, a sure sign this isn’t the first time she’s had to run for her life. We reach the front door and I scoop Daisy up, tucking her under my arm when something occurs to me. Her leash is still in the kitchen, and we’re going to need it.
“Can you take her to the car?” I ask Scarlett. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She nods and Mack grumbles in my ear, obviously on edge.
“What’s taking so long?”
“I’ve got to get Daisy’s leash. Ronan doesn’t let her outside without it.”
“We can get a new leash,” Mack protests. “Just get your ass in the car.”
“Alright, I’m going, I’m going,” I tell her. “Let me call you right back.”
She’s still protesting in my ear when I hang up and glance around frantically for the leash. I know how particular Ronan is about Daisy going outside with it because he doesn’t want her to run off. But I can’t find the stupid thing anywhere.
Just as I’m about to give up, I find it hanging over one of the chairs. I yank it off and race towards the front door and down the steps.
But I don’t even make it ten feet before a car pulls up and a flurry of activity ensues. My phone falls onto the sidewalk in the chaos, and my gaze drifts to the car parked down the block. Where Rory and Scarlett are.
Their faces are panicked, and I know it’s too late for me already when the uniformed agents converge on me. There’s nothing they can do for me at this point without alerting the feds that they’re here too. So I tear my eyes away and focus on what’s in front of me.
A woman decked out in FBI field gear approaches me first, gripping me by the arm.
“Sasha Varela.” She holds up a piece of paper. “We need you to come with us.”
I don’t even get to see what’s on the paper before she yanks it away. I hesitate when she tries to usher me to the car, and the other agents move towards their guns.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she says. “But I will cuff you if you don’t come willingly. Let’s not go that route, Sasha.”
