Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  I glare back at her and she shoves me into the back of a sedan. The female agent piles in beside me and we peel off down the street.

  “Where are you taking me?” I demand. “What am I under arrest for? I need to know…”

  “I’ll explain everything very soon,” she says. “But I can promise you, Sasha, this is probably the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”

  The agents take me to a white house in the middle of suburbia. And the entire time, the guy that’s driving keeps staring at me in the rearview mirror. He’s giving me the creeps, and nothing about this situation feels right.

  When we park the car, my rational thought process starts to come back to me. They can’t just do this kind of stuff. I have rights, and I’m pretty sure they’ve already broken half of them.

  “What are we doing here?” I rant. “You can’t just arrest me without telling me what it’s for. I want a lawyer. I have somewhere to be… I need to post bail, and I know my rights…”

  “Sasha.” The female agent grins smugly. “Just calm down. I’m going to explain everything right now.”

  They take me inside of the house and seat me at the kitchen table. The female sits across from me, looking way too self-important as she folds her hands across the glass.

  “Sasha, my name is Agent Reed, and believe it or not, I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me how?” I demand. “By holding me hostage? Am I under arrest or what?”

  “You’re not under arrest,” she says. “Yet. But that could change, depending on how the rest of this interview proceeds.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I snap.

  “We’ve had a good Samaritan tip us off on some criminal activity within the club you work for. Leads in some missing person cases as well as a written witness statement by one Donovan O’ Connor.”

  “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I shake my head and a maniacal laugh bubbles up my throat.

  Am I never going to escape this frigging asshole? He’s dead, and he’s still fucking with my life.

  Agent Reed purses her lips and acts genuinely surprised by my outburst. “I’m really not. Included in that witness statement are some very interesting things about you Sasha. It seems you are implicated as a potential accomplice yourself to some of these crimes.”

  I sit back and cross my arms while I stare at her. “First of all, Donny is frigging deluded. So if you buy anything he’s trying to sell you, I feel sorry that he’s wasting tax payer’s dollars sending you on these types of goose chases. And second of all, I don’t know anything about any crimes. I’m just a dancer. A freelance one at that. So technically, I’m not even employed by that club. And unless you’re going to place me under arrest, you better take me back to my house.”

  The agent sighs and gestures for the other man who is still watching me closely. He’s clearly an agent too, but something about him doesn’t feel right. I don’t like the way he keeps looking at me. Like he knows something I don’t. Like all of this is just for show.

  He opens up a drawer and hands agent Reed a file which she then tosses onto the table in front of me.

  “Donovan O’ Connor has been missing for some time now,” she says. “And by his own account, he suspected this might happen. He was prepared for it.”

  She opens up the file and leaves me to have a look on my own. I swallow down my nerves as I slide it across the table and begin to flip through the pictures. Immediately, I know exactly who and what they are.

  The photos themselves are grainy, and there’s no clear shot of his face. But it’s undoubtedly Ronan shoving a large roll of carpet into the trunk of a car behind Slainte. I take my time studying each photo. I’m trying to see if Donny actually captured anything of use.

  The photos were obviously taken on a cell phone, and there are no lights in that part of the lot, so almost all of it is in shadows. There’s nothing that can identify the car that I can see because Ronan is blocking the plate itself. The photos have obviously been altered as much as they can to try to identify the subject, but a fat lot of good it did.

  If I didn’t know it before, these photos only confirm what an idiot Donny was. He thought this would be his smoking gun. But it’s obvious that if they have me here they need me to corroborate his story. And without him being here to talk, I have to doubt they have anything else to go on.

  “Before you say anything,” agent Reed interrupts my thoughts, “I think it’s pertinent you know Sasha, that you can be brought up on charges as well if you don’t cooperate. Alternatively, you can have the slate wiped clean. Move into our WITSEC program and begin anew. New name, new city. A chance to make a life of your own. I know that the last few years have been difficult for you. Supporting your mother during the final stages of her cancer could not have been easy. And then going to work at Slainte every night, knowing that you could never leave. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I’m giving you that opportunity now.”

  I take a slow, controlled breath and look up at her. For the last three years, I’ve managed to fool everyone who ever asked about Blaine. He’s the fucking nightmare that just won’t go away. And this agent thinks I’m just a dumb stripper who doesn’t know what she’s doing. She thinks she can fool me with her sweet talk. Her promises of a new life. I know better. I know her sugar coated lies are really laced with venom.

  Even if I had nothing and nobody to lose, betraying the syndicate is the last thing I’d ever do. It’s a death sentence, no matter which way you spin it. If it had been Blaine I was selling down the river, I might have felt enticed. But it isn’t. It’s Ronan and everyone else who has done right by me. And if I can stand up to Lachlan and his questioning, I can sure as hell handle this dumb broad.

  “Look,” I tell her. “It’s obvious you think I know more than I do. But I don’t know what you want me to say. I have no idea who’s in those photos. Even if I did, it’s kind of hard to tell what he’s doing. I mean, it looks like he was doing renovations for all I know. So I’m sorry, but like I said before, I can’t help you.”

  “That’s a shame,” she sighs. “We were really hoping that you’d be willing to cooperate with us on this.”

  She remains calm, opening the other file in front of her and sliding it across the table in my direction. I give it a cursory glance and feel my own resolve fracturing just a little.

  “The way I see it,” she says, “there’s only one obvious choice. Either you take the deal I’m offering… or you’ll be going down for multiple crimes that involve aiding and abetting a criminal organization.”

  She points at the second piece of paper in the file to prove her point and then arches a brow for emphasis. “Those are all felonies, by the way. Not that it matters. It makes no difference which prison you end up in. The Irish have reach in all of them, I’m told.”

  My eyes snap up to hers, and I seriously debate lunging across the table and choking her to death right here.

  “This is making you feel really fucking important,” I snarl. “Isn’t it?”

  She brushes off my comment with a wave of her hand. “So what’s it going to be, Sasha? You better think quick. This is a limited time offer.”

  I sit back in my chair and contemplate my options. My airway is growing smaller by the second, and I know I need to ground myself. But I look around this room, and there’s nothing familiar. It doesn’t help the way it usually does. Panic is seeping into my every ounce of flesh, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m pregnant. I can’t go to prison. But I can’t sell Ronan out either.

  Agent Reed and I stare at each other across the table, neither of us speaking a word in the stilted silence. But there’s a smug smile on her face. Because she knows she’s caught me in her web. Fucking bitch. Fucking traitor bitch. She doesn’t give a fuck about anything but how good this will look on her record. This is all about her job accolades and what it will do for her.

  I honestly have no idea what to do.

  But
as it turns out, it doesn’t matter. Because a moment later, someone busts through the back door and gunfire erupts throughout the house. Agent Reed shoves me under the table and I grab a chair for cover and squeeze my eyes shut.

  I take three deep breaths to calm myself before I peek out to see agent Reed hiding behind a partition as she fires off shots in the direction of the intruders. A pair of leather shoes walk up behind her, and all I can see are the man’s legs.

  A gunshot goes off, and she collapses to the ground. Dead.

  And I’m officially in a full blown panic attack. There are some murmured words in Russian when more shoes converge in the kitchen. One of them crouches down a moment later and smiles at me. It’s the same creepy agent who was driving the car.

  A corrupt fed. Who just watched these guys murder one of his own and is probably going to kill me too.

  He grabs me by the arm and yanks me out from under the table. Two other men join him, and I know just by looking at them they aren’t who I want to be leaving here with.

  “Where are you taking me?” I try to resist as they pull me out the door and shove me into another car, but it’s futile. The fed says something in Russian to the other guys, and confusion washes over me.

  The Irish have an alliance with the Russians. Maybe they are helping me. I cling to that hope for all it’s worth. Until they put zip ties on my wrists and duct tape over my mouth.

  Then I watch in horror as the two guys punch the fed in the face a couple of times until he’s banged up pretty good. I’m no genius, but I don’t need to be to see what’s going on here. He wants to make this look good to his colleagues. Which means he doesn’t plan on me being alive to contradict it.

  The fed crouches down and winks at me.

  “Have fun, kitten.”

  37

  RONAN

  “THAT ONE THERE.” Rory points ahead. “The black Denali.”

  My eyes scan the road and focus on the distance between us and them. By the time I was able to get to Rory, Andrei’s crew already had her in their possession.

  Part of me wants to lash out at Rory for not stepping in sooner. But the rational part of me knows I wouldn’t have the first clue where she was if it wasn’t for him.

  I’ve failed her. Allowed my fears to overcome me and walked away at a time when she needed me the most. And now she’s in a car with Andrei’s men, who I have every intention of slaughtering like the pigs they are.

  “I will protect her,” I say aloud.

  “I know, Fitz,” Rory replies. “We’re going to get her back, mate. Don’t ye worry about that.”

  “You shouldn’t have left her behind in the first place,” Scarlett chimes in from the back seat.

  “I was protecting you,” Rory growls. “Which you seem to keep forgetting.”

  “I don’t need your protection,” she answers.

  “She’s having my baby,” I tell no one in particular. I just need to hear it spoken aloud. So they understand the gravity of this situation.

  “Congratulations, Fitz,” Rory says. “I never pegged you for a fatherly type.”

  My hand twitches on the gear shift. “I’ll protect her,” I repeat. “I’ll look after both of them.”

  “I know,” he agrees. “I don’t doubt you, Fitzy. You’ll do a grand job of it.”

  The car ahead of us changes lanes, and I finally get a clear view of the Denali. The one that has Sasha in it. My Sasha. And my baby. Because I’m going to be a father.

  I haven’t had much in my life. Crow and his mammy and the syndicate. I made do with that before, but things are different now. My whole life is in that car up ahead. I’m going to slaughter the men who thought they could take that from me.

  “Keep your distance,” Rory warns. “We don’t want them to work out they’ve got company just yet. Remember the bigger picture, Fitz.”

  “I need to get Sasha.”

  “You do,” he agrees. “But you also need to get Andrei. Settle this once and for all. And having a showdown in the middle of the freeway won’t do.”

  He’s right, there’s no argument about that. But I have an intense pressure inside of me which only breeds every moment she’s trapped in that car. It’s the same pressure I felt when I killed Blaine. When I saw him hurting her. I don’t understand this emotion. I don’t know how to sort it out or even what to call it. I only know that when it comes to anyone hurting Sasha, I will always feel this way. The only balm for the fire inside is to eliminate the threats against her. To destroy anyone who thinks they can touch Sasha.

  It’s the single thought keeping me from going mad right now. Planning Andrei’s murder and bathing the floor with his blood. I will make him suffer. I will make his death a thousand times worse than any he’s ever saw fit to dole out. The butcher will know real pain when I’m finished with him.

  The car ahead exits off the freeway, and I follow. Daisy starts to whine in the backseat and Scarlett pulls her into her lap.

  “This dog looks familiar,” she says.

  I ignore her because my attention is focused only on the Denali. They’re driving into a rural area. A sure sign they’re leading us directly to Andrei. When they turn off onto a dirt road, Rory taps the dashboard to get my attention.

  “You need to slow down, lad. It’s only going to put Sasha at risk if they catch onto us. We’re not going to lose them.”

  I pull my foot from the accelerator and attempt to calm myself. The rage is coiling tighter inside. I’m losing control. And all I can think of is Sasha and my baby. These pigs might do something before I can get to her.

  “No.” I push my foot back down and focus my attention up ahead. “It has to be dealt with now.”

  “Fitz,” Rory tries to argue, but I’m past the point of being rational.

  Scarlett doesn’t seem to have an opinion on the current events as she continues to talk about the dog. I’m not listening much, until some of her words capture my attention.

  “Princess,” she says. “That’s what her name was.”

  “Her name is Daisy,” I argue. “Sasha picked it.”

  “But where did you get her?” Scarlett asks.

  Rory glances at me when I don’t answer because he already knows. Conor’s been giving me shite about it in front of the lads every time I go to the club.

  “Being as ye’re not going anywhere…” Rory meets Scarlett’s eyes in the mirror. “I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you this was Donny’s dog.”

  Scarlett wrinkles her nose and glares back at him. “Keep trying to find reasons to make me stick around. I promise you’ll get sick of me soon enough.”

  “I doubt that very much,” is Rory’s only reply.

  The car falls silent, and I’m glad for it. I’ve no need for this carry on while I’m trying to focus on Sasha. But Scarlett won’t let up about the bleeding dog.

  “Was she wearing a pink collar?” she persists. “With a crown on it?”

  This time, I do meet her gaze in the mirror. I don’t like that she knows that.

  “What’s it to you?” I ask.

  “I thought so,” she answers smugly. “It is princess. I know who owns this dog, and it isn’t Donny.”

  “I own the dog,” I growl. “She’s mine. And Sasha’s. She’s ours.”

  Scarlett just shrugs. “Well that may be the case, but I know who owned her before.”

  I open my mouth to argue when Rory taps me on the shoulder. He gives me a look, and it conveys everything I need to know. This could be important. Whoever owned that dog might be the same person that’s been leaking information to the feds.

  “I’d love to hear all about that,” Rory tells her as he turns around in his seat. “Maybe ye just might be useful after all.”

  38

  SASHA

  “WE’VE GOT COMPANY,” the man driving the car observes.

  His eyes keep flicking to the rearview mirror, and a seed of hope blooms inside of me.

  Ronan.

  It has t
o be him. I have to believe that Ronan has come for us. That he isn’t going to let me die like this. Let our baby die.

  The man beside me picks up his phone and makes a call, muttering a quick string of indecipherable words. He’s short-tempered, and the voice on the other end of the line sounds even more so. There’s a tiny farmhouse up ahead, which I suspect is where they’re taking me. There’s only one dirt road out of here, and we’re on it.

  Which means that whoever is behind us has got us trapped.

  The men in the front seat speak in rapid fire Russian while I try to crane my neck and get a look at the car behind us. It’s too dusty though, and the minute I turn, the man beside me grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back around.

  He yells something into my face, which I don’t understand, but I get his meaning clear enough. I curl into myself and mentally try to prepare for whatever is about to happen. Up ahead, the windows on the farm house are open, and the barrels of two rifles are poking out.

  The driver guns the engine without warning and sends us careening around the corner of the house and towards the back. The car has barely come to a stop when someone’s yanking me out and dragging me inside.

  I don’t resist, but it still doesn’t stop him from hurling me onto the floor once we’re inside. I crawl under a table and not a moment too soon.

  Another spurt of gunfire erupts around us, tearing through the glass and walls of the farmhouse. I can’t see into the living room, but I know there are at least three other men in there. In addition to the three who brought me here that makes six. If Ronan is outside, I have to wonder what kind of backup he has.

  As I’m questioning it, something thuds on the back porch where we just entered, followed by a crash of shards from the window above the sink. Something wizzes over the table where I’m hiding and hits one of the men in the head. It all happens so fast that during the time it takes me to blink, he’s on the floor with his face half gone.

  My hand flies to my mouth and I have to fight the urge to retch. Jesus. How many times have I been in situations like this now? This is exactly why I didn’t want this life. I don’t know how I seem to have forgotten that in my time with Ronan. Now I have a baby to think about too. And no way do I want my kid growing up around this kind of shit.