Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  Her eyes never leave me until I’m tucked in behind her, an arm wrapped around her waist while Archer curls against her chest. In this space between darkness and dawn, I have a clarity I’ve never felt before. A purpose in life that is so much more than my brotherhood, or proving myself, or anything else that ever seemed important before.

  My whole life is in this room. This is my family, and I’ll never let myself forget how close I came to losing them because of my own ignorance and pride.

  I bury my face against Ivy, breathing her in as I kiss her hair. “I love you, baby girl. I love you both.”

  “Conor?” Ivy’s panicked voice escalates from inside the bedroom, and I fling open the shower door, barely managing to cover myself with a towel before I make it back to her.

  “What’s wrong, love?”

  She looks up at me and blinks, disoriented and confused, but worst of all… terrified. The covers are clutched around her, and she is too paralyzed to move, but it’s clear she thought I left her.

  I walk over to her, still dripping wet, and kneel down before her. “It’s okay now, love.”

  My fingers feather over the only patch of skin left unscathed on her battered face. It looks worse in the daylight, and the only comfort I have is the knowledge that I will drain the life from Slick’s eyes. But if I could, I would murder Animal all over again, and I would make him suffer in ways he’s never known.

  “I thought you left,” Ivy blurts. “I woke up and you weren’t here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise her. “I was just taking a shower.”

  She still looks unsettled, and I’m sure we have many more days like this ahead of us.

  “Ronan and Dom are just down the hall too. Nobody is getting in here, love.”

  She glances at the door to the hall. “They are?”

  “Aye. But if you don’t feel safe here, then we’ll move. We’ll buy a new house.”

  She bites her lip, and nothing comes out, but in her heart, I know that’s what she needs to move forward. Ivy still has to wrap her head around the notion that it’s my job to look after her. She wouldn’t ever come right out and tell me she wanted a new house because that costs money. But I want her to know these boundaries between us aren’t going to remain. Whatever it takes to make her feel secure in my love and devotion for her, I will do it.

  I lean up and give her a gentle kiss. “Besides, we’ll need a bigger place when I get you in a family way.”

  A blush spreads over her cheeks, and I kiss her for real this time. She tastes so fucking sweet I never want to stop, but I don’t want to hurt her either.

  “How do ye feel about a shower?”

  “I’m a little sore,” she says. “But I think I can manage it.”

  She glances back at Archer, still asleep, and worry passes over her face.

  “He’ll be okay,” I tell her. “If you want, I can have Ronan come sit with him.”

  She thinks on it for a minute. “Maybe. I just don’t want him waking up alone.”

  I pop my head out into the hall and call for Ronan, and he appears a moment later. With my instructions, he sits on the end of the bed and folds his hands in his lap with the seriousness of a sentry. Ivy takes one look at him and knows that nobody will ever fuck with our boy if they have to contend with Ronan.

  I help her from the bed and we make a slow walk back into the bathroom. All she has on from last night is one of my tee shirts, and it fits like a dress on her. I help her out of it, trying not to look at her body because right now would be an inopportune time to get an erection. But regardless of my precautions, my dick throbs between my legs, itching to get back inside of her.

  I test the water with my hands to make sure it’s still warm and then help Ivy inside. She relaxes into me completely and the ugliness of this past week disappears with the knowledge that she trusts me. Even after she saw me at my worst, she trusts me.

  “Ivy, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  “What is it?” She twists her neck to look up at me.

  “We have Slick, but I’ve yet to deal with him. There isn’t a question that he’ll die, but I need to know what he did. I need to know how he should suffer.”

  Her fingers curl into my back and she buries her head in my chest. “He didn’t get far enough to do anything.”

  Satisfied with that answer, I rub small circles into her back, and her lip trembles. “But he was going to take my son. My son. He was going to—” She chokes back a sob, and I hold her until she’s calm enough to speak again. “I just want him dead. I want him gone. Does that make me a monster?”

  My fingers brush over her cheek and down her throat. “No, love, it doesn’t. You won’t ever have to think of him again. I’ll make him go away.”

  Tears splash against her cheeks, and I try to brush them away, but she shakes her head. “I’m sorry I left, Conor. It was so stupid.”

  “I fucked up, love. That’s on me. I’m not used to being so out of sorts over someone. I think we just need to get better at fighting.”

  “What you said last night,” she whispers. “Did you mean it?”

  My lips graze against hers, longing to taste her. “I meant it then, and I mean it now. Ye’re mine, baby girl, and I love you.”

  She squeezes me and offers me a watery smile. “I love you too.”

  My heart beats victorious in my chest, and I groan into her mouth when she reaches up and pulls my face back to hers.

  “I need you, Conor,” she pleads. “I want you inside of me. I have to feel you.”

  “Christ.” I pull away and look at her. “Are you sure? You just—”

  “I don’t care. I miss you and I need you. I just need to feel good. Please.”

  My dick is so hard I could drill a hole through the shower wall, but I’m still nervous. “We can try, but if it hurts at all, we’re stopping.”

  “Okay,” she concedes.

  I want inside of her now. It’s been so long, and I just want to plunge my cock into her warmth again and again. When I slide my fingers between her legs, she’s already wet for me.

  Ivy moans and arches into me, and I know she won’t be able to sustain an orgasm when it’s all she can do to keep herself upright. So, I gather her up into my arms and wrap her legs around my hips, holding onto her arse to keep her in place.

  Her arms fall around my shoulders, giving me open access to her beautiful tits, so perfect I want to worship them all morning. I start by licking her nipples, sucking them into my mouth and drinking in her sweetness as she squirms in my arms.

  “So fucking beautiful,” I groan.

  My impatient little vixen reaches down and wraps her palm around my cock, and my vision darkens at the sight of it. Her petite fingers don’t even close around the girth, and yet she takes me inside of her like a fucking champion.

  “You keep doing that, and I won’t make it inside of you,” I tease.

  She smiles at me warmly. “Then quit torturing me and give me what I need.”

  With a request like that, how could I not? I pry my cock from her hand and rub it obscenely against her wet pussy. My balls are so tight they feel spring loaded, and I’m doubtful how long I’ll survive once I get inside her.

  “Conor,” she whines.

  I squeeze the head of my dick into her tight hole, and she shudders, wiggling her hips until she sinks down and bottoms out.

  “Christ,” I rumble, reaching down to grope her. “Ye’re so tight baby. I need you to come for me before I blow my fucking load.”

  Her nails dig into my back and she bites down on my shoulder in an attempt to stay quiet while I finger her clit. Ivy needs this as much as I do, and it doesn’t take her long. The orgasm rips through her with a violence that leaves her panting for breath, and I’m already fucking her before the aftershocks end.

  So wet, and warm, and mine. I thrust up into her again and again, squeezing her ass as my eyes fall shut and my head lolls back. I can’t speak. I can’t
do anything but ride out of the wave as hot come spurts from my dick into her womb, filling her. Claiming her.

  We are both breathless and spent when I come back down from the high, mauling her lips with a possession I refuse to water down.

  “Mine,” I utter. “Only mine.”

  35

  CONOR

  “HOW IS HE?”

  Alexei arches a brow at me. “I’d venture a guess that he’s pretty sore.”

  A smile curves across both our faces as Boris walks out of the room, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he zips up his trousers. “I think I’ve taken my fill of pleasure. He’s boring me now.”

  “They always bore you when they stop screaming,” Alexei muses.

  They laugh, and I nod to Boris. “Thank you for your service.”

  “Anytime,” he puffs out between drags.

  The Russians are our allies, and Boris has helped us out many a time when the situation warranted it. Our brotherhood is a firm believer in an eye for an eye, and even though Slick might not have touched Ivy, he certainly intended to. There is only one suitable punishment for such a crime. When I open the door and find his limp body draped over a wooden bench, I have no remorse for his agony.

  “You,” he slurs, eyes opening half mast. “Fucking kill me or let me go you sadistic fuck.”

  “As you wish.” I pull out my Glock and tap it against my thigh. “Just one question though. What exactly were your intentions with the boy?”

  Slick makes an unintelligible sound, and I can see the wheels turning in his pea sized brain. He knows what’s coming, and I don’t expect honesty from him, but it can’t hurt to ask.

  “I wouldn’t have harmed him. It was just a matter of keeping her compliant.”

  “Aye.” I curl my lip in disgust. “You would. What honor do ye have left? Ye’re going to die, there’s nothing left to lose now.”

  “I don’t hurt kids,” Slick insists.

  “To be sure, ye don’t hurt my kid.”

  His lips flatten, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth to challenge me on that, but he knows better.

  “Blood or not, that boy is my son,” I inform him. “And you should know what happens when ye touch a brother’s son.”

  “I didn’t touch him.” Slick thrashes against his restraints with what little life he has left.

  “But ye thought about it. That was enough.”

  I stuff the Glock back into my jeans and reach for my knife instead. Slick breathes harder in anticipation, flinching when I step nearer. He’s wrong if he thinks it’s going to be a violent attack. Slow and steady wins the race.

  I cut the rope from his waist and use it to secure the knots between his wrists and ankles. A quick call out to Boris, and he opens the door and lets Alexei inside with the wheelbarrow.

  “What the fuck now?” Slick yelps. “Just finish me already.”

  “I intend to.”

  Not so gingerly, I dump the sack of shite face down into the wheelbarrow. He doesn’t say a word, but he’s shaking as we wheel him down the dark tunnel in Alexei’s basement. When we reach the exit, the sun is high and it’s a beautiful day for a funeral.

  Slick wastes his energy carrying on the entire way to the fresh slice of earth in the woods where many a traitor has come to meet his maker. The freshly excavated hole is six feet deep, and Alexei seems to appreciate my efforts.

  “You didn’t skimp on the details,” he says. “This is good.”

  Without further ado, we each grab one side of the barrow and unceremoniously dump Slick into the hole.

  “Come on, man,” he screeches. “You can’t do me like this. Have a heart.”

  The two of us grab our shovels and start the long process of covering his body with dirt. He bitches and moans about it the entire time, and I don’t bother to acknowledge any of it until we’re ready to cover his face.

  “For every minute you still have breath in your lungs, I want you to think about my wife and my son. Think about how sorry you are that you even considered laying a hand on them.”

  “I’m sorry,” he blurts. “So fucking sorry.”

  His wasted words are smothered by a shovel full of dirt on his face. After that, Alexei and I work in silence, burying Slick and sending a message to anyone else who thinks they can take what’s mine.

  36

  IVY

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

  Archer glances around the room and shrugs. “It’s nice, mama.”

  I can’t help but laugh when I meet Conor’s eyes. The house is a lot more than nice. It’s more than I ever could have dreamed of having. Conor told me to pick out a house, any house I wanted, and even if I never said it out loud, he knew this was the one. The Victorian style townhouse is in the Beacon Hill neighborhood, only a few doors down from some of his other friends. I feel safe here, as Conor intended, and I hope Archer does too.

  After moving all day, we’re exhausted and ready to settle into our new space. But Conor and I still have plans to celebrate. I get Archer tucked into bed and go over my instructions with Rory again. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being nervous about letting him out of my sight, but over the past two months, I’ve come to understand that Conor was right. These guys protect their own and they won’t let anything happen to Archer, or even me, on their watch.

  “You ready, hot mama?” Conor wraps his arms around me from behind and feathers his lips over the length of my neck.

  “I think so.” I turn into him and drag his mouth to mine, kissing him like it’s our last day on earth. Conor grunts and pulls away with a wicked smile.

  “If ye keep at that, we won’t be making it out the door.”

  He threads his fingers through mine and leads me to the car. He gave me warning this time, so I already know where we’re going. And for Conor, I’m ready to try again. This is important to him, so I try not to let my nerves get the best of me as he drives us to Sláinte.

  The drive is far too short, and when we pull into the parking lot, Conor turns off the ignition, but doesn’t get out of the car. Now he’s the one who looks nervous, and it’s totally freaking me out.

  “I have something for you,” he says. “A couple things actually.”

  “Oh.” I rasp. “What is it?”

  An awkward laugh rumbles from his chest as he taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Chrissakes, this is ridiculous. I’m fumbling like a schoolboy.”

  “It’s okay,” I insist. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  Warmth bleeds into his eyes, and it must be infectious because I feel it in my chest too.

  “I just want ye to know this wasn’t the way I intended for it to go down. I wanted to give it to ye earlier, but with the moving and everything, there was never a perfect time. You deserve something more romantic, but I’m not very good at that stuff.”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box, and my heart beats wildly in anticipation. Conor doesn’t think he’s romantic, but he has no idea how much that isn’t true. Because when he looks at me with that boyish smile and flips open the box, I couldn’t imagine anything better than this.

  “Sorry it’s taken me so long to sort ye out a proper ring, but I wanted it to be just right.”

  I examine the vintage diamond ring through bleary eyes, nodding my approval. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s an antique, but if you don’t like it, we can get ye a different one. I just liked the story that came with this.”

  “What story?” I ask.

  “This ring belonged to a couple who were mad about each other. They came from two different worlds and didn’t have a lick in common. She was a society girl, and he was the son of a farmer with barely two nickels to rub together. Against her family’s protests, they ran off and got married, and then he was sent off to war.”

  “What happened to them?” I press. “Did he live?”

  “He was captured and presumed dead,” Conor says. “For six years, they told h
er that was so, but she couldn’t believe it. She never took off the ring. She never gave up hope. And then one day out of the blue, he appeared on their doorstep. They spent the next fifty years together and died within days of each other. She wore the ring for all that time, vowing that as long as she kept it on, he would always come back to her.”

  “Wow.” I can’t tell if I’m more moved by the story or the emotion on Conor’s face. “That’s really sweet.”

  “We Irish tend to believe in good luck charms, and this will be ours.” He slides the ring onto my finger, and I examine the stone, noting that it’s new. But the original art deco style of the band is untouched.

  “I made a few minor changes,” Conor explains. “I hope ye like it.”

  “Like it?” I take his hand in mine and squeeze. “I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me. I don’t even know what to say.”

  He offers me a lazy smile. “It was long overdue. I want the world to know ye’re mine, and I’m yours.”

  “Oh, God, I need to get you a ring.”

  He pulls another box from his pocket and wiggles it between his fingers. “Already got that covered, love. Would ye care to do the honors?”

  I open the box and inspect the ring he bought. A simple black titanium band. I couldn’t have picked something better for him myself. I slide it onto his ring finger with some difficulty, considering his huge knuckles, and we both laugh.

  “Thank you, Conor. This means so much to me.”

  His fingers brush the length of my arm, making me shiver. “Thank you for being my wife. I like to fancy myself the luckiest man on this planet.”

  My lips graze against his. “I think we’re both the lucky ones.”

  He kisses me, and it’s the kind of kiss that turns my insides all gooey. It’s deep and possessive and intense, a complete symphony of all that Conor is. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of kissing this man. Making out in parked cars or sneaking into dark corners to frantically tear at each other’s clothes. He makes me feel like a teenager, love drunk in the best possible way.

  “Shite,” Conor grunts. “Ye got me all worked up.”