Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  Another bullet flies through the window and takes out a different guy. His body makes an awful sound as it hits the floor and I can’t bring myself to look at it. I close my eyes and count to ten, and in that ten seconds there’s another thud.

  And then someone is grabbing me, dragging me out from beneath the table and holding my body in front of his. He’s yelling something out in Russian when the back door flies open.

  There’s still gunfire coming from the front, but my eyes are focused on the formidable figure standing in the doorway. Chocolate brown eyes meet mine, and my lungs fill with some much needed air. It doesn’t matter what else is happening around me, the one thing I know for certain is everything’s okay now. He’s here, and I’ll be okay. Because Ronan always saves me.

  He says something in Russian to the man holding me, to which my captor replies. I’m surprised at Ronan’s grasp on the language, though I shouldn’t be. He never does anything half-assed, this man. Ronan’s gaze meets mine as he raises his gun, and I know he’s silently telling me not to be afraid.

  I should be. I should be feeling something. But I’m frozen. Numb. In shock, I think. The man behind me raises his knife to my throat.

  Ronan moves forward on instinct, but pauses when the blade digs into my skin.

  “Andrei.”

  The way Ronan says his name is a threat all its own. His voice is deadly and calm. His body is too. This is what he was trained for. But even I can’t miss the warring rage and fear in his dark eyes. If there was ever a question about how he felt for me, it’s unmistakable right now.

  “You have such a pretty little whore my friend.” Andrei drags the tip of the knife down my neck. “Such a shame I could not spend more time with her. This skin, I have a feeling it would look so lovely flayed wide open.”

  Ronan speaks to him in Russian again. His voice has lost the calm resolve he displayed only moments ago. The rage is taking over. Turning him. And I know it’s only a matter of time before he goes ballistic like he did with Blaine. Only this time, the guy behind me has at least one knife, and I suspect by the sharp object digging into my back, possibly two. He’s using me as a shield and I have no idea how Ronan’s going to disarm him.

  Right about now I’m really wishing that I’d asked Mack to teach me some of that crazy shit she’s always doing to defend herself.

  “Shall I take her for a little test drive?” Andrei asks. “Just a few slices. You know they say that all blood is the same color once it meets oxygen, but I don’t think that’s true. So many shades of crimson. You would agree with me, yes?”

  Ronan lunges forward, and the man drags me back further, cutting off my air supply as his arm snakes around my neck. He turns the knife in Ronan’s direction and waves it back and forth in a disapproving gesture.

  “C’mon, my friend. You must know better than this by now. I’ve heard so many tales about you. The great Reaper of Boston. Men quake in his presence I am told. And yet here you are, completely helpless as I hold your treasure in my arms.”

  “She is mine,” Ronan snarls.

  His eyes are moving over every possible angle, searching for weaknesses and assessing the situation. I can literally see him being split in two. He’s fighting the urge to be the man he was created to be and the man who I’ve slowly gotten to know. The cold blooded killer in him would take the shot without fear of hitting me. But the man who has laid beside me in bed, fought off his demons in my presence, and spent every moment he could inside of me is holding back.

  Before he can come to any sort of a decision, the knife in Andrei’s hand slices down my chest in a sharp shock of pain. My mouth opens and the faintest sound spills from my lips as I glance down to see blood dripping from the long gash.

  Ronan’s lunging towards us again, but Andrei was prepared for this. The sharp object has disappeared from my back. And before I have time to scream or warn him, the second knife is sailing through the air and into Ronan’s stomach.

  A shot goes off, and I have no idea where it came from. But the heavy weight around me falls away, and I turn around to check. That’s when I see Scarlett standing there, wielding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. She’s completely unhinged, her eyes dark and filled with a thirst for bloodlust. I know because I’ve seen that same look on Ronan’s face many times before.

  Andrei is lying on the floor, bleeding from the leg. Scarlett moves closer and stares down at him with a smile on her face that scares me a little. But the reason is stamped in her eyes for all to see. This is the man who hurt her too.

  She kneels beside him, digging the tip of her knife into his cheek and dragging it over his face.

  “You’re not the only one who likes to play with knives.” Her eyes flick down to his leg wound. “But I guess you bleed red just like everyone else.”

  It’s obvious what she’s going to do. What she wants to do. And I can’t handle watching it. I spin back around and run towards Ronan, who is leaning against the wall for support. His eyes are glued to the scene before him, and the man I thought could never be shocked finally is. His face is awash with bewilderment as he watches Scarlett carve up the man on the floor behind me. He’s clutching at his wound, and I’m afraid to get a good look at it. Because I don’t want to see. I don’t want to see Ronan hurt, or worse. I can’t handle that.

  I whisper his name, and his attention moves to me, some of the haziness disappearing from his eyes. Tears are leaking down my face, and I’m sniffling. I just keep repeating his name, staring at his blood soaked shirt. Fingers graze my cheek, and then I hear the sweetest sound in the world. His voice.

  “Shhh,” he whispers. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

  And just like that, I forget everything else for a second. He pulls me closer and kisses my forehead, untangling the mess of hair around my face.

  “Sasha.”

  My name sounds like a revelation on his lips. His palm moves to the cut on my chest and he smears some of the blood onto his skin, which serves to strengthen his resolve. He kisses me twice more before pulling away. I grab onto the lapels of his suit because I know what he’s doing. I don’t want him to go kill that man Scarlett’s hurting. I don’t want him to go anywhere.

  “Ronan.”

  My hand is wet, and when I look down, it’s covered in his blood. It’s getting worse. And it’s too much.

  “We need to go.”

  I can’t lose him. Not now. Not ever.

  “I have business with Andrei,” he argues.

  His words are firm, but his body is weak. Fortitude isn’t going to win out this time. He wants to kill the man who hurt me. And maybe a part of me wants that too. But right now, his bleeding wound takes precedence.

  “Ronan, I need you,” I tell him. “Our baby needs you. Okay? That’s all that matters. And if we don’t get you into the car right this minute…”

  “She’s right,” a voice interrupts from behind me.

  I turn to find Rory standing there, his eyes fixed on Ronan’s blood soaked shirt.

  “Get in the car, Fitz. I’ll finish off Andrei.”

  Ronan shakes his head, stubborn as ever. “He’s mine. I’ll be the one to finish him.”

  All of our eyes move to the man in question, who Scarlett has done quite a number on already. His face and arms and chest are all covered in cuts now, and she’s holding the knife to his throat.

  “I’m going to finish him,” she announces.

  Rory shakes his head and yanks her up to her feet without an ounce of finesse. She tries to shove him away, but he holds her steady and kicks Andrei in the face when he moans.

  “I won’t allow ye to have that on your conscience,” he says to her. “No matter how tough you think ye are Scarlett. I will not abide by it.”

  His voice is hard. Harder than I’ve ever known it to be. And Scarlett is looking up at him with glassy eyes. I don’t know what’s going on between these two, but Rory’s words affect her. She listens to him, her shoulders falling in

defeat. Then she glances back at Ronan, and she gives him a little nod.

  “He’s all yours.”

  “I’ll put him in the boot,” Rory offers, as if this is totally normal. “You’ll have all the time ye like with him later. Just get your arse in the car.”

  Ronan tries to take a step towards the stairs, but his balance is off and he has to cling to the wall. I wrap an arm around his waist and turn back towards Rory.

  “I’ll need help getting him in the car.”

  Rory nods, and then he’s bolting over to help, but Ronan’s still staring at Andrei.

  “Ronan.” I grab his face and pull his attention back to me. “You can deal with it later, okay? Let’s get in the car.”

  “He tried to hurt you,” he says again. “Ye’re mine.”

  “I am,” I agree. “And I need you to stick around. For a really long time, okay? Because I can’t do this without you.”

  I try to get him to move forward, but he stops us. I think he’s going to argue again, but instead he kisses me. It’s rough and possessive. When his lips fall away, his face is as earnest as I’ve ever seen it.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Because I love you, Sasha.”

  My eyes clog up with tears, and I’m nodding like crazy because I’m too choked up to speak. Finally, I get myself under control enough to tell him what I’ve been dying to for the last three years.

  “I love you too, Ronan. I think I always have.”

  39

  SASHA

  RONAN’S PASSED out in the backseat, his head in my lap. Scarlett and I are both applying pressure to the wound while Daisy nudges at his leg, whining in fear.

  That fear is spreading through me like toxic sludge, darkening my world that was only just beginning to get bright again.

  “You have to hurry,” I yell at Rory for the tenth time, although I know he can’t drive any faster.

  “He’s going to be okay, Sash,” he answers. “He’s survived much worse.”

  “I don’t care,” I snap at him. “Where the hell are you taking us? It’s been too long. He’s bleeding too much…”

  “We can’t go back to Boston just yet,” Rory says. “In case it wasn’t clear, we’ve got mad heat on us right now.”

  “I don’t care about that…” I protest.

  “Sasha, we have a friend out here,” he explains. “He’ll take care of Ronan.”

  I want to believe him, but when I glance down at Ronan’s pale face, I don’t know if I can. This is too big to put my faith in someone else. This man resting on my lap is my whole world. My whole life. The sun rises and sets with him. And I know he’s strong. He’s stronger than anyone I know. But just because he’s survived so many horrors in his lifetime, doesn’t mean he’s going to survive this one too.

  “It’s too much.” I shake my head. “He’s been through too much. Eventually, your body can’t handle it.”

  “Sasha.” Scarlett grabs my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “Just take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. He doesn’t want to leave you. He won’t leave you.”

  “I’m having his baby,” I announce.

  “I know ye are,” Rory answers. “And there’s nothing that could stop him from being around for it Sash.”

  “He told you?” I meet his gaze in the mirror.

  “Aye.” Rory nods. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. How much he needs to protect you. Take care of you. He blames himself for walking on out on you today. For not being there.”

  I shake my head and trace the lines on his face again. “He just needed some time,” I whisper. “That’s all.”

  The tires crunch over gravel, and when I glance out the window again, we’re in front of a house. A house in the middle of nowhere.

  Rory turns off the engine, and a moment later he’s got the back door open. A man walks out of the house and Rory gestures for him to come over.

  “Franco,” Rory greets him. “He needs help.”

  Franco glances at Ronan and his lips flatten. He speaks in Russian, and I can’t understand what he’s saying, but his expression says it all. He doesn’t like Ronan.

  Another man comes out to join us, and Franco clips out a few words of explanation in their native tongue. The third man glances at Ronan and lifts a brow. I don’t know who he is, but somehow I know he’s the one in charge. And whatever their beef with Ronan, I don’t care. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.

  “Please,” I beg. “You have to help him.”

  The man’s eyes examine me, blue as the sky and gloomier than anything I’ve ever seen. He takes in my expression and my hand clutching at Ronan’s shirt, and something shifts in his features. He gives Franco a small nod, and then they’re carrying him inside, with me and Scarlett in tow.

  “You’re going to help him, right?” I ask.

  The man with the blue eyes nods. “I will do what I can.”

  40

  SASHA

  I DON’T KNOW who this man is. The one with the blue eyes. But Rory calls him Alexei, and I’m certain he’s one of the big fish in the Russian mob. He has to be.

  His house is the size of a small castle, and it looks like one too. But it isn’t overly luxurious. In fact, it’s a little cold, and it reminds me of Ronan’s house in that way. Stark. Used for function, but not a home.

  He leads us through a maze of halls and directs the men to leave Ronan on the bed. His man Franco is on the phone, and I’m staring at him impatiently, wondering what he’s going to do. He seems to understand this, because when he hangs up, he tells me what I need to hear.

  “The doctor will be here shortly. In the meantime, I will tend to the wound. You can wait downstairs where Magda will tend to yours.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I argue. “He doesn’t like people touching him. He needs me here. He won’t understand if I’m not here…”

  “Sasha.” Rory gives my arm a squeeze as he dips his head to meet my gaze. “I will stay here with Ronan. He’s not going to wake up right now, because he’s lost too much blood. Alexei and Franco know what they’re doing, okay. But we need to respect their wishes so that Ronan gets the best treatment. They can’t do that if you’re here.”

  My lip trembles and I want to keep arguing. My eyes move to Ronan on the bed, his face soft and relaxed and too pale. The longer I stand here and argue, the longer it’s going to take for them to help him. Logically, I know this. But I still don’t want to leave him.

  I glance at the man with the blue eyes, who is watching me quietly. The one who I know is in charge.

  “Promise me you’ll take care of him,” I demand. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to help him.”

  His head dips and he gives me a small nod. “You have my word.”

  My eyes dart back to Ronan once more and then Rory is easing me out the door, directing me to go downstairs. He tells me the housekeeper will help with my cuts, which are the last thing on my mind. I’m barely holding myself together as I stare at the maze of hallways and the door shuts behind me. Locking me out. Keeping me in a void of questions with no answers.

  This is the way of the mafia world. They see women as weak. As not being able to handle these types of situations. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t want to see. But it’s Ronan. My Ronan.

  My troubled, strong, proud man. The man I love beyond all reason. Beyond all limits. It almost knocks me off balance thinking how much I love him in this moment. Tears are tracking down my face as I stumble down the hallway, looking for the way that I came. Maybe I could just wait on the stairs. That way, if he does wake up, I will hear him.

  But before I even make it that far, I catch someone peeking at me through another door before she slams it shut. I pause and stand there in confusion. It can’t be the housekeeper, because they said she’s downstairs. I’m not in the mood to care, but there was something about her face that looked familiar.

  Needing the distraction, I walk to the door and knock on it. There isn’t a response. But when I turn the knob, it opens without protest. And sitting there on the bed, staring up at me with hazel eyes is the last person I ever expected to see again.

  “Talia?” her name leaves my lips in a shocked whisper.

  She stares back at me, her face devoid of any expression at all. At first I’m not even certain she recognizes me. This girl is supposed to be dead. She is supposed to be overseas somewhere where she was sold into human slavery and then killed. That’s what Mack said. What Mack believes.

  And yet, here she is. In the Russian mobster’s house. There are a lot of different conclusions I could draw from that. She’s probably seen more horrors than I could ever imagine. I wonder if she even remembers her past life. If she even knows what she’s doing here. Or how she got here. Which is the question lingering in my mind. What is Alexei doing with her?

  “Do you remember me?” I ask her.

  “Of course I remember you,” she answers. “I’m not brain dead.”

  Her snappy attitude takes me by surprise. My eyes scan over her body, assessing the situation. She’s healthy and well cared for. Dressed in nice clothing and a little thin, but otherwise in good condition. But I never remember her being so hard. Her eyes are different now. They aren’t soft like the girl I first met at Slainte. She’s looking at me like I’ve left her with a sour taste in her mouth, and I can’t understand why.

  “Everyone thinks you’re dead,” I tell her. “You do know that, right?”

  She shrugs.

  That’s it. There’s no emotion there. Nothing. Just a shrug. Like it doesn’t matter.

  “Do you realize what this has done to Mack?” I ask her. “She’s been sick over this whole situation for months. Do you have any idea what she went through to try to get you back?”

  This time, a hint of remorse swirls in her pale irises. But it doesn’t last long. She looks me dead in the eye and speaks with unwavering conviction.

  -->